I'm not an angry person. I'm polite to call centre staff and give way to pedestrians, I wait patiently in line at Coles and smile politely when old ducks stop me in the street to comment on my child. But sometimes I get peeved *incredible hulk moment*. Luckily I don't commit acts of violence, rather I steam silently and think about how I will word my anger in a blog.
1). When you are parked in the front of the petrol queue, with a number of cars behind you who have filled up, paid, and are waiting to get on with their day, please do not decide to leave your vehicle, pop into the shop and do your weekly grocery run. Note I said please this time but next time I will kick your stupidly inappropriate and remarkably clean 4WD right where it hurts and honk my horn in such a way as to offend your finely-tuned upper-class sensibilities.
2). Leggings are not pants. You may wear them to the gym, or for any form of exercise, or are heavily pregnant and unable to fit into anything else. If you and your friends are all 15, slim and thus with a wide choice of trousering options available, you do not need to become little miss Lohan's. If you do wish to wear leggings, please wear some form of frock, skirt or even shorts over the top. DO NOT wear a cropped hoodie or short tee or "oversized" shirt that when belted comes up past your pubic bone. IT MEANS I CAN SEE YOUR BUM and so can everyone else. IT IS NOT FLATTERING and yuo do not look hip, alternative, or any of those otehr things kids these days want to be. I remember leggings when we (or our Mums, courtesy of Kmart) matched them with scrunched down socks, boots or sneakers, and a big tshirt or jumper with a complementary floral scrunchie. Generally you could buy these as sets, and even if we now look back and cringe, at least our bits were hidden. As you were probably still gestating or facing the rigours of testicular boot camp*, you may claim ignorance of these 90's horrors. But in the eyes of the law, IGNORANCE IS NO EXCUSE. It's true, ask your Legal Studies teacher.
3). Just because you work in a shop, and I shop there, does not mean I want to tell you my life story. I sincerely appreciate a friendly smile and "Hello"; on a good day you can even stretch it so far as a "How are you?" or comment on the weather, but that's where it stops. You don't care how may day has been and I can't really tell you in a few sentences, as any more in depth than "oh, ok thanks" requires me to tell you about all the people in my life that I have dealt with today. This is confusing as well as boring for you, and you'll probably end up charging me for extra bananas, which will mean I will have to trek back into the shop with my tattered receipt, claim that I did not purchase the aforementioned bananas, even though I can't prove it, and pray that they offer me a refund. What alot of bother for absolutely no point at all. Say what needs to be said in a nice manner and smile and we'll both leave happy. And don't even think about telling me about your day. I DON'T CARE.
4). Speaking of shops, some supermarkets or large shopping centres have designated spots for the disabled, eldery and mothers with babies and kids. This is very considerate and makes the trek from the shop back to the car laden with bags alot quicker. However, to park in these spots you generally need to fall into one of the categories of shoppers they are intended for. And just because you fall into one, doesn't mean you fall into ALL of them. So when I'm circling the carpark at peak hour with a cranky toddler, dreading facing the maze of trolleys and tot temptations while simply trying to purchase consumables, I do not appreciate a fully mobile, high-heeled twat whose ovaries have dried up casually sauntering towards her sportscar with really amusing numberplates overloaded with one, yes count them, ONE bag. You can park ANYWHERE with ease you sourfaced bint but no, why should you go out of your way for anyone else? All those mothers with babies, and frail elderly people could do with the exercise, and frankly, those in wheelchairs can just roll towards the door, on wheels all the way, so why would they need a close spot? You have a shiny car and an expensive purse so you deserve it! Of course you do!
5). And in something completely unrelated, but very simple, it shits me no end when people can't spell. I can't type, but at least I can spell. Your is not the same as 'you are' and now is not the same as 'know' and so if you are representing a company, it's offputting and unprofessional when you make these simple errors. It makes me think that you, too, are a bit simple and I will not give you my money. YOUR SIMPLE. YOU'RE SIMPLE. If you can circle the correct option, I'll give you a sticker; good yuppy, good girl!
*I think this was on Family Guy. It made me titter.