One of my most common prayers that I say on at least a daily basis, if not more, is my prayer to God for patience and tolerance of those whom I deem unworthy to breathe the air in our atmosphere. In other words, the stupid folk out there! I am constantly reminded, especially by our parish priest, that the Lord does not grace us with patience, He graces us with opportunities for patience. That being said, I am sure the Lord is very disappointed in me because he affords me numerous opportunities for patience and I fail them at least 9 out of 10 times.
"So what is this weird entry here for in a blog about a lap band?" You may ask. Well, it has nothing to do with the lap band, I just had an incident with one of those 'special' people and I need to share it. So if you don't want to listen to me rant, you need read no further.
This morning, after throwing my back out, I realized my daughter had left her lunch behind. So being the glutton for punishment that I am, and not wanting her to have to eat that horrible cafeteria 'food', I gathered her lunch bag and headed to school, severe back pain and all. Once I arrived, I saw two parents sitting on the wall outside of the office. I presumed they were waiting for their kindergartners but when I noticed the clock said 10:40, I realized it was entirely too early for that so I proceed to the office doors. It should be duly noted at this time that I recently received a new pair of prescription glasses because I can't see worth a shit without them. Do you think I was wearing them? Well, of course not! I'm defiant, stubborn, and certain that I can conquer my eyesight problem. So as I approached the office doors, I noticed (remember, I'm supposed to not be able to see anything without my glasses) the only white sign on the door right at eye level that read, "Earthquake drill in progress, doors are locked, will return in 20 minutes", I begrudgingly sat on the wall because my back hurt so bad, and before long I found myself wanting for a pair of Bose noise cancelling headphones after being barraged by the droll story of this man's wife who can't stand their baby's spit up. About as soon as that thought entered my mind, a bit of entertainment began to approach us.
A man in his very early thirties, dressed in black slacks, black shirt, black tie, and black shoes, looking appropriately dandy with his properly used hair care products, man-bag, and official-looking ID tag hanging off of him, charged the office doors. Now before I go any further, you all need to understand that this man stood no more than two feet away from me. . . so this made things especially amusing. He grabbed hold of one office door, pulled, and when it didn't open he did the same with the other one. He then began to shake the doors as if somehow they were just lodged together and all of us on the wall were too stupid to figure that out. He continued to shake and pull on the doors, stopping only to push his face into the glass to see that the office was empty, just as promised. He shook and pulled the doors again and then he looked at me. Apparently I had that, "Really, Dumb Ass?" look on my face because after looking at me, he stepped back and noticed, right there in front of him, at eye level, was the only sign on the door warning him that the doors were locked. He looked at his watch and proceeded to dance a little jig as if to distract everyone from his stupidity; however, this only served to add to it.
It was at this time I found myself thanking God for never letting this man be a partner of mine when I worked in the prison. This was, after all, the kind of guy who would walk to the guard station and complain of his side hurting, his partners being the ones to notice the shank in his side, you know, the one the inmate was flailing in front of him before sticking him with it! Yes. . .we had stupid people like that working the tiers with us and we were expected to trust them to back us up in serious situations and to get us home safely to our families at the end of our shifts. Perhaps it is this line of work that has made me so sensitive to the stupidity of others, or as my friends tell me, "You're too sensitive to all the little things nobody else notices." Perhaps they're right, noticing those little things are often what protected us from what was about to happen, but I digress. . .
Can ya'll just do me a favor? If you see me out there (I look exactly like my blog photo) and you're about to do something stupid, or you notice someone near me who's about participate in some sort of random, stupid activity, can you please remove yourselves (or them) from my presence? I swear a little piece of my brain melts away every time I'm witness to such stupid antics. I'm just saying. . . .
"So what is this weird entry here for in a blog about a lap band?" You may ask. Well, it has nothing to do with the lap band, I just had an incident with one of those 'special' people and I need to share it. So if you don't want to listen to me rant, you need read no further.
This morning, after throwing my back out, I realized my daughter had left her lunch behind. So being the glutton for punishment that I am, and not wanting her to have to eat that horrible cafeteria 'food', I gathered her lunch bag and headed to school, severe back pain and all. Once I arrived, I saw two parents sitting on the wall outside of the office. I presumed they were waiting for their kindergartners but when I noticed the clock said 10:40, I realized it was entirely too early for that so I proceed to the office doors. It should be duly noted at this time that I recently received a new pair of prescription glasses because I can't see worth a shit without them. Do you think I was wearing them? Well, of course not! I'm defiant, stubborn, and certain that I can conquer my eyesight problem. So as I approached the office doors, I noticed (remember, I'm supposed to not be able to see anything without my glasses) the only white sign on the door right at eye level that read, "Earthquake drill in progress, doors are locked, will return in 20 minutes", I begrudgingly sat on the wall because my back hurt so bad, and before long I found myself wanting for a pair of Bose noise cancelling headphones after being barraged by the droll story of this man's wife who can't stand their baby's spit up. About as soon as that thought entered my mind, a bit of entertainment began to approach us.
A man in his very early thirties, dressed in black slacks, black shirt, black tie, and black shoes, looking appropriately dandy with his properly used hair care products, man-bag, and official-looking ID tag hanging off of him, charged the office doors. Now before I go any further, you all need to understand that this man stood no more than two feet away from me. . . so this made things especially amusing. He grabbed hold of one office door, pulled, and when it didn't open he did the same with the other one. He then began to shake the doors as if somehow they were just lodged together and all of us on the wall were too stupid to figure that out. He continued to shake and pull on the doors, stopping only to push his face into the glass to see that the office was empty, just as promised. He shook and pulled the doors again and then he looked at me. Apparently I had that, "Really, Dumb Ass?" look on my face because after looking at me, he stepped back and noticed, right there in front of him, at eye level, was the only sign on the door warning him that the doors were locked. He looked at his watch and proceeded to dance a little jig as if to distract everyone from his stupidity; however, this only served to add to it.
It was at this time I found myself thanking God for never letting this man be a partner of mine when I worked in the prison. This was, after all, the kind of guy who would walk to the guard station and complain of his side hurting, his partners being the ones to notice the shank in his side, you know, the one the inmate was flailing in front of him before sticking him with it! Yes. . .we had stupid people like that working the tiers with us and we were expected to trust them to back us up in serious situations and to get us home safely to our families at the end of our shifts. Perhaps it is this line of work that has made me so sensitive to the stupidity of others, or as my friends tell me, "You're too sensitive to all the little things nobody else notices." Perhaps they're right, noticing those little things are often what protected us from what was about to happen, but I digress. . .
Can ya'll just do me a favor? If you see me out there (I look exactly like my blog photo) and you're about to do something stupid, or you notice someone near me who's about participate in some sort of random, stupid activity, can you please remove yourselves (or them) from my presence? I swear a little piece of my brain melts away every time I'm witness to such stupid antics. I'm just saying. . . .
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