Dude, I’m tired of people. I want to say that the crank has snuck up on me, but that’s not true. It was a sudden switch and I know when it happened.
That week that I spent in Dallas for a conference was totally the tipping point. I’ve been around this small, isolated group in this tiny town for a long time, and so have gently melded into their social standards. But being away from that, with a much larger and more diverse group for a WEEK made all the Northern Sass rise to the surface. And when the week was done I kept the sass.
Mainly, my version of common sense (including appropriate ways to communicate with others) is waaaaayyyy different than this bubble’s version. In my little fantasy world, it’s not okay for someone to call, text, email, Facebook, and visit me in person when I tell them, “sure, I’ll take a home-shopping catalog from you.” (Avon, Mary Kay, Pampered Chef, Scentsy, Silpada, Passion Parties, Tastefully Simple, etc…)
Here, though, apparently it’s okay.
Also in my head is that when I do a favor for someone, they do me one back. OR they stop asking for favors. I guess I’m not thinking of favors so much as trades. I need something, they need something, the scale is balanced. It’s actually thinking of those things as favors that often soils the waters – I’m currently in a spot where (I think) a nice person is under the impression they are doing me an awesome favor when, in fact, it’s just barely a fair trade (and the scales often tip in her favor). In Rae’s Fantasy World, hyper-awareness of this kind of balance is a basic piece of the transaction.
Here, though, not so much. (When it’s a long-term thing, watch out. Difficult to brush off as misunderstanding when months go by…)
Most glaringly, I freakin’ hate when people give me information that is useless to me, but creates an environment where I might possibly be responsible for it. Here’s an example: someone asks for any leads on a babysitter. I pass on the contact info of someone, plainly stating that I have no kids, so I’m not recommending, just informing. In Rae’s Fantasy World, that’s end of transaction.
What makes me bat-sh*t-crazy is when someone comes back to me and says, “that babysitter was terrible, she was so mean to my kids.” Or, “that babysitter stood me up.” Or, “that babysitter isn’t a legal citizen.”
(FYI, this is a made-up scenario. So if you’re one of my real-life friends wondering if you’ve done this, cool your jets. You haven’t.)
(I’m really trying to go with make-believe scenarios instead of real ones.)
I do not care about the damn babysitter. Whatever happens beyond my realm of responsibility is stuff I do not care about. Don’t waste my time warning me about stuff that doesn’t touch me.
It makes me crazy. I’m not lying. For some reason, this kind of “oh, I thought you’d like to know” information makes me want to punch kittens. For me, it translates into the following, “I found out something new and juicy about this thing that I absolutely must share with someone so I’m going to tell you. And yes, my sharing it with you might imply that I think you’re somehow responsible for this situation in some way, shape, or form, but I’m not going to really get into those details. Instead, I’ll let you figure out how you might possibly do anything productive or useful with the piece of crap info I just dropped on you while I go on my merry way, much happier and lighter now that I’ve managed to get some solid gossip out into the world. Ta ta!”
My ability to deal with social differences is very low right now. Today is not my day. Tomorrow is not looking good, either.