Oh no, not again: yet another one of my rants and tirades against the cruelties and injustices of the world
‘A Pang is more conspicuous in Spring.
In contrast with the things that sing.’
(Emily Dickinson)
If you’re one of my loyal, devoted
readers who has been with us since the beginning, then you’ll know how much I love a good rant. If you’ve only read me a little, then be warned: I really
love a good rant. Typically, most of my grumbling falls into one of these
categories:
* people and the idiotic things they do:
I’m a misanthrope
* technology and what a pain in the ass
it is: I’m a Luddite
* bad customer service and being wronged
in restaurants: I love boycotting places (a recurring theme in these pages: I
hold grudges)
I don’t have statistics for this and I
don’t even think there’s a way of checking, but if I were to do a text analysis
of all my posts over the years, one of the most common phrases would have to be
‘one of my biggest pet hates/pet peeves/bugbears is…’ followed by a threat to
one day put together an entire post comprising all of my pet hates. The problem
is, that list would easily run to over a hundred items and turn into a 10,000+
word magnum opus, with 90% of my faithful readers giving up by number 37.
I do actually wonder how many pet hates
I’ve shared in 10+ years here – they crop up from time to time and there must
be some algorithm that can determine this? Or perhaps there’s a crazed reader
out there who has kept track? (if so, I’m not sure I even want to know)
I shan’t do that here and will try to
limit my grovels to around 10, give or take a couple.
I’ve been asked by a few people about
fatherhood’s effect on my crankiness, as in, has it mellowed me, at least a
little? I’m not so sure – what it has done is force me to ‘compartmentalise’ my
rage at the world. In other words, when I’m with my daughter – cringeworthy
cheesiness alert – I’m the happiest person in the world, suppressing all my
pent-up rage for her benefit. And the second she’s out of sight, I start to
froth at the mouth and feel my juices bubbling up until I’m about ready to
explode. At the same time, I don’t hesitate to inform my little one about the
travesties and injustices in the world, especially when we notice things out in
public. For example, I regularly point out the absurdity of parents
overdressing their kids and forcing them to wear winter Arctic gear and wooly
hats in 25+ degree heat, and she truly does seem to take delight in other kids’
misfortune.
I don’t necessarily want to shield my
little one’s eyes from the cruel horrors of this world.
So here we go. A whirlwind overview of a
few bugbears and minor irritations that have irked me over the past 12 or so
months.
(A warning that if I come across as
grumpier and more cantankerous than usual, it’s because I’m in a slightly
fouler mood than usual – I was rather ill for the duration of my spring break
from work and had every intention of doing some serious writing catch-up, among
other things, only to be waylaid by some particularly vicious and nasty
headaches for a solid three weeks. Grrrr…)
1 One of the more underrated annoying
noises in cities is from carwashes.
2 Under no circumstances should a knife
and fork ever be used to eat a burger or a pizza. Never. Even more egregious is
this disturbing ‘trend’ over the past couple of years – in Ukraine, at least -
of using latex gloves to eat a burger, presumably only in public, but knowing
some people they probably do this at home too. Why was it fine to eat a burger
with your hands for years and years and then suddenly they start giving out
rubber gloves in restaurants. Is this a hipster thing? Is it only in Ukraine or
do other places do it?
(Just the other day I also saw something
even more ridiculous. So ridiculous, in fact, that I had to stop and stare to
make sure what I was seeing was real. There were four women sat outside at a
restaurant, one of whom was eating a steak, with a knife and fork and…wearing
latex gloves.)
There’s a [politically-incorrectish]
saying in Russian, and I’m probably mangling this, to the effect of ‘birds,
fish and women you should take with your hands’.
One of life’s unalloyed joys is the mess
from eating with your hands, whether it’s a burger, chicken wings or any type
of fish. Call me a barbarian – and my wife too, for that matter – but at home
we will eat just about anything with our hands. As a colleague of my
mother-in-law told her, when you’re in public, you have no idea how clean the
utensils are, but you know how clean your hands are. We’ve taken this and
applied it at home.
I do freely admit that I probably take
this a bit too far – in the past, I have been known to devour most of an entire
roasted chicken with my hands, which is probably pretty off-putting to some. I
have fond memories of my time in Nigeria when utensils were rarely served for
any dish, which even meant four of five of us each digging into a massive
barbecued ‘croaker’ fish. Have I mentioned that in nine months in Nigeria I
just about never got ill?
There’s a legendary burger joint in
Harvard Square, Cambridge called Mr Bartley’s, featuring burgers named after
celebrities and pop culture references. Some examples include:
JEFF BEZOS (He’ll build the WALL and
ship it for free!) swiss / grilled sauerkraut / russian dressing with onion
rings
KIM JONG-UN (He’s crazier than Trump)
turkey burger / stuffing / cranberry / mayonnaise with fries
BREXIT (God Save the Queen!) blue cheese
dressing / crumbled bacon / spinach / red onion balsamic vinegar with onion
rings
My favourite has always been the…
VIAGRA (rise to the occasion!) blue
cheese / bacon / lettuce / tomato with fries
I cannot imagine enjoying the Viagra
burger with a pair of latex gloves on, missing the feeling of all that juicy
goodness running down my hands…
(As my father taught me, these gloves are
referred to as ‘asshole gloves’ in the military, or at least by doctors in the
military – I first noticed this many years ago when I saw an old coffee
canister in our garage with ‘asshole gloves’ written on the side. I’ll let you ponder that
yourself.)
3 This is clearly a first-world problem
and now that the weather is pretty balmy it no longer applies, but it drove me
nuts over the winter. Why do upgrades in technology actually sometimes appear
to be ‘downgrades’? I traded in my old Kindle for a Paperwhite last summer and
loved it. When winter rolled around and it was time for gloves or mittens, I
realised one of its major shortcomings (does this sentence belong better with
the Viagra burger?). You can’t actually scroll from page to page wearing
gloves. With the old one I could, and with it being so damn cold on the metro,
this is critical. I found myself having to take off my gloves just to turn the
page every few seconds and it’s much more of a hassle than you think. It got to
the point where I just started taking regular old-fashioned books on my commute.
[EDITOR’S NOTE: Skip this next part.
Honestly, do yourself a favour and just skip this, unless you want to hear yet
another tirade against mobile phones. Seriously, will this Pedzo character ever give over on this?]
[EDITOR’S NOTE, continued: if you really
are a glutton for punishment with way too much time on your hands, feel free to
read this overly long and painful in-depth diatribe: On the anxiety of responding, impatience and quirks gone sour
5 Our latest restaurant boycott: a place
called Bootlegger, and one of the few more salubrious places in our local, less
than salubrious neighbourhood. They’ve done one or two small irksome things in
the past, like telling us after we’ve asked for the bill that that the 30%
discount during lunch hours is no longer valid, even with the sign still on
display outside. Recently we went for Sunday brunch, where they advertise
unlimited coffee or tea or mimosas for a set price. Because April was no
alcohol month for me – just a ‘fun’ dietary challenge – I stuck with coffee but
Olya enjoyed quaffing a few mimosas while the little one snoozed peacefully,
oblivious to everything. The menu had separate prices for a solitary coffee (29
hryvna) and unlimited coffee (69 hryvna). We asked for the unlimited options, I
ordered a cappuccino. I then had another one. After eating, I ordered an
espresso and asked for the bill. Olya was outside with the baby. The bill came,
with a set of 2 separate ‘unlimited coffee’ charges of 69 hryvna each. Despite
our protest over the ridiculousness of this, they didn’t budge, with a bad to
non-existent explanation.
(there shouldn’t have been an extra
charge at all, but even if there had to be one, at least make it 29 hryvna for
just one ‘extra’ coffee)
This leads into another one of my gripes
over the past few years. On one hand, there’s no question customer service in
Kyiv has drastically improved since the time I arrived in 2010. And I do
suppose that many [foreigners] would appreciate that they are recognised as
such and automatically given an English menu upon arrival. I so much prefer a
menu in Ukrainian or Russian, mainly to keep my language skills a bit
fresh[er], but also because with some types of cuisine, Georgian for example,
the names of dishes in English make little sense.
But the thing that particularly disturbs
me is not the waiter or waitress speaking English to me – that’s fine and a
nice gesture – but when they don’t even attempt to address me in
Ukrainian/Russian and instead address my wife on my behalf, as if she’s my
interpreter. At other times they sort of freak out and don’t even attempt to
put up with my [admittedly pathetic] language skills and call an
English-speaking waiter over.
In this Bootlegger case, the waitress
should have said something at some point but made no attempt at all to explain
or clarify anything to me.
6 Why do people, in an attempt to avoid
spoilers, still go onto Facebook or Twitter and then complain about seeing
spoilers? Just stay the hell off social media until you’ve watched the damn
thing you’re trying to avoid! I have no sympathy for such nitwittery, as my
good pal Dr Wasabi Islam would call it (I’m also intending the pun,
here…pathetic).
I’m mainly referring to Game of Thrones
spoilers. I don’t actually watch it myself, but I have noticed a few gripes
about spoilers, and it befuddles me as to why people go on social media and expect
not to have it spoiled. Shame on you.
I could write a ludicrously long post
entitled ‘the agony of the spoiler’ detailing myriad instances of how spoilers
have affected my life, including one that could have led to me getting fired
from my current job. Actually, I may have even started writing one at one point
and then neglected to finish it.
A further point: ‘I have never seen an
episode of Game of Thrones’. You know what drives me up the wall? People who
make these emphatic declarations like ‘I have never watched Harry Potter’ or
‘Game of Thrones’ on social media, along with a ‘Like this comment if you agree
with me’. Why do people feel the urge to make these contrarian declarations as
if they are too good for something? What are people trying to prove?
For me, I have absolutely nothing
against Game of Thrones and I’m sure I’d enjoy it. I simply just never got
round to it in its early days, I’m more of a reader anyway and barely watch TV
at all these days. It’s as simple as that. We’re pretty limited with the
serials we watch (in the past I’ve only really watched The Wire, Vikings, Black
Mirror, Stranger Things, Dark, and the Borgias; there are many more on our
list)
7 Reading baby books is pretty damn
overwhelming and confusing, especially with all the contradictory advice. But I
must admit that they are quite enjoyable and entertaining to read purely as
forms of low-brow literature. And as I read all of this conflicting ‘advice’,
we end up just saying ‘to hell with it’ and doing whatever the hell our
instinct tells us and whatever feels natural. After all, look at the bright
side: when our little girl turns 18 and we sit down and analyse her upbringing,
we’ll have no idea whether what we did or didn’t do was the right thing or not.
8 Another reading point: when reading on
the way to work in the morning, if I’m in the middle of a chapter or paragraph
or section of a book, and as long as I’m not in a rush, I try to finish what I’m
reading after I’ve got off the metro. It might look odd to see someone get off
the train and just stand there reading, but I can’t leave off without finishing
the chapter or article. This happens rarely, but there have been occasions when
someone recognises me on the platform, comes over, stops and sort of stands
there expecting me to accompany them out of the underground. What do people
think, that I’m standing there waiting to be approached and then accompanied
out of the metro station? No, I want to finish my damn chapter, leave me alone!
9 My final point is the one that
incenses me the most, and it’s one I’ve already written about ad nauseam and
referred to above: people overdressing their kids when it’s already damn hot
outside. I don’t want to belabour the point, but surely some of this borders on
child cruelty, no? Why is it okay for parents to walk around in sandals, shorts
and t-shirts while their kids are dressed as if it’s -10 outside? I did a
rudimentary statistical analysis a few weeks ago, when the temperatures hovered
around 25C/77F on a balmy spring day. Out of 47 children we spotted, not
including our little girl, 46 of the kids were wearing wooly hats. From a
purely medical standpoint, there is a FAR greater risk of overheating and
dehydration when your child is overdressed.
Best not get me started. This is a
slippery slope that’s only going to lead to me swearing lifelong eternal pain
and torture on anti-vaxxers, flat-earthers, climate change deniers and Gwyneth
Paltrow’s Goop followers.
Rant over. I’ll try to be more positive
next time.
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