In honor of high school graduations everywhere, I got to thinking about how as an adult, there are times when you could swear you were still back in high school. And this is not a compliment to those people who are making the rest of us feel that way. To them, I say
So without further ado, here are ten times you’ve got to wonder, “Are we still in high school?
#1) When you greet someone at work or some other familiar place where, like Cheers, everybody knows your name, and the other person will not return the greeting. And I’m not talking about one time where they may have missed hearing you–I mean you’ve given this person at least the three-time rule. The first time, maybe they didn’t hear you. The second time, maybe they’re having a bad day. The third time with no response? I won’t waste my breath on you again.
#2) You know that one guy who is always bragging about the athletic prowess of his kid? The one who never asks about you and yours? Yeah, we all know him, too. A couple of months ago when Mr. Blowhard was bragging about little Chandler’s bases loaded home run, my husband chimed in, “Well, my son has the lead in the school musical.” The blowhard thought he was kidding. He wasn’t. Ha!
#3) That woman at work who insults you with a smile on her face, and you are left stymied because you can’t believe anyone would every have the audacity to say such a thing? Something like, “That’s a lovely dress… On a thinner woman…” Doh!
#4) How about that ass-hat who thinks he’s being slick when he’s trying to “help” you?
“So we have this maid and she’s in really great shape. She works out and watches what she eats. Maybe she could sit down with you and explain how she does it.” Don’t do me any favors, Pal.
#5) And then there’s that woman who keeps pushing you to find out what color dress you’re wearing to some major formal event? And then she shows up in the exact same color and style you’ve picked out? And she’s had plastic surgery to reshape her mom-bod? Bitch!
#6) Speaking of the woman with the plastic surgery that reshaped her mom bod–how about her predilection for posting bikini photos of herself all over Facebook? Even showing up her teenage daughters in the bod-department.
Of course, her face reminds one of that old punk song from the eighties in which the refrain goes, “Nice legs, shame about the face.”
#7) What about that co-worker who loves to put you down? “I can’t believe you misspelled separate. Who doesn’t know how to spell separate? And you’re college educated?”
Yes, it happened to me. I was very young and a temp-worker. There were no computers at this company–only IBM Selectric typewriters and, yes, I made a mistake. Never again.
In contrast to the bitchy co-worker/niece of the company’s owner, the actual owner of the company was so down to earth, he carried a can of Tucks Hemorrhoid Pads with him through the office on his way to the men’s room. His niece? A Grade A-Bitch.
#8). People from high school who still post their “Glory Days” pictures with their posse–just to prove, one suspects, that they are still a big deal. Well, maybe in their own minds, anyway. I still think it’s a shame to peak in high school. Who wants to live life looking in the rear-view mirror?
#9) And then there’s the jerks who are members of a group at church or at work or in the community, who speak in the presence of other group members just to a select few about their special plans and experiences that are separate from those of the group.
The message they are trying to send is, “We are friends and you’re not one of us,” but the message that’s received is, “You’re a dick.”
#10) Finally, how about those boors who always brag–either verbally or on social media–about their expensive hobbies (golf, boating, etc.) or their excessive partying? News flash:
We all know you are probably in debt up to your eyeballs, and;
Your liver may be your bitch, but it will catch up to you.
Feel free to add to this starter list in the comments below. We’ve all been there, done that when it comes to people who just bring a little ray of sunshine into our daily lives. Remember,