Pet Peeves: Exaggeratedly Dangerous

I had this teacher back in high school who was told to be dating a commercial model from the Gard shampoo commercial back in the days. Word had it that model-guy went to her house one night to pick her up for a dinner date. After a short while of having the guy wait, she came down the flight of stairs from her room leading to the living room area. She was dressed splendidly. She was more than pretty. She was beautiful. She has this air of street-smart confidence about her. Model-guy, probably feeling relaxed, had his leg hoisted over the arm rest of the couch, beaming and all smiles, probably more than happy that she gave an effort to look elegant for their date. She, however, was disappointed. She just hates it when people drape their legs over couch arm rests.

I could not anymore recall her name, for the light of me. I could just remember her face. She has the charisma that would never translate to her having something against what most would only consider trivial. She also has the mature woman look that could easily be the subject of more than half of the male population of the entire secondary school's wet dreams, both asleep and awake. There are teachers who effortlessly become the hapless focal point of adolescent urges and this particular teacher's on the top bracket of the list of "Most Eligible and Hottest" secondary school teachers in the region. The list of course never made it public and was even regarded as fictitiously made up by one blogger with supposed "naturally-almond-brown-since-birth-colored eyes." Her beauty is a fact, though.

Going back, it gradually ended that night between the two. She did not get to be with him for long. Word was she did not even go out with him that night.

Pet peeves die hard or, in most instances, they never die at all. Ever.

My pet peeve is when people ungratefully hand me over their jeepney fare that I in turn should pass on to the driver without them saying thank you. I've got nothing against taking people's dirty coins and brushing against their gunky hands. To pass on public transport fare is after all a duty everyone inside the jeepey or FX is bound with. The sacred protocol that those of us who are either too lazy to drive our own cars, too miserly to spend on gas and parking, too passive to learn to drive, or too poor to afford even a bike for transport are constrained to keep to. Saying "bayad," a two-f*cking-syllabled word, is just as long as "thank you," and being grateful is the least you could be among those people who have equally paid for the same right to conveyance. I'd understand if the thankless were in a deluxe section of a jeepney where their fare subsidizes my own. I will even avert eye-contact from them, staring at my feet, as I take pleasure in biding their command. The deed of handing over somebody's fare for them translates to a favor done in their behalf---instead of personally going all the way forward and back a narrow jeepney's low-head-spaced aisle more so for those who sit at the far end of the jeepney. They give an alibi that people who hand over their fare do not even hear the spoken "salamat" anyway so they might as well do away with the bull crap niceness gesture. It was not about people hearing the giver's gratitude that mattered in the first place, rather that the person feels grateful for even the simplest of deeds because that's what separates the refined from them condescendingly pompous smegma-class. That's how low these kinds are from my perspective. Lower than scum-level. Smegma: the dead remnants of life even before they even had the chance at a life.

Expressing gratitude should not be something beyond the capacity of any normal person's proper upbringing which all the more makes it hard for me to rationalize why the societal sub-class of them bitch-assed ingrates still exist. May their traits all die together in mass-genocide with those who unthankfully borrow lighters from total strangers and those who treat restaurant attendants like dispensable slaves.

Labels: Opinions, Vertigo

posted by Fritz @ 12:14 AM