Now here's a thought...

What if people actually slowed down? To speak and not shovel their time, agenda and thoughts down my throat?



My window is ready, and now I am battling to find a day that I can have it put in, which only costs me even more in terms of time. I am not particularly close with my neighbors, especially since my building has turned into a revolving door of people moving in and out. I have been robbed in the past, so should I just hand over my key to a total stranger to make it easier for this company? I've been cut off, shoved off the phone and generally treated like a nuisance. The problem is, the window is there, I can't cancel the order without paying. Perhaps I'll mention that I will go with another company if I don't get this window in by, say, the end of next week. I think that'll work.



And the constant barrage of people speaking to me in general as if the world is ending NOW and they-must-fit-every-single-word-in-at-five-hundred-miles-per-nanosecond-because-this-call-is-so-important is also going to end. I am proud to say I positively REVOLTED one of these road runner pod dwellers about 10 minutes ago by not only announcing that I dropped my pencil, but that they'd have to slow down because I could not understand their name. THAT was how fast this person was speaking. I took my sweet time writing the message, too. I got a sound not unlike an exaggerated "HUFF" on the other line. My smile was not unlike that of the Grinch.



This must be the legacy of MTV--fast, cut, chop, faster. Edit, sound bite, blip, cut, speed thru, fast forward. Um, sorry, people, but does rudeness ever factor into your thinking? I guess not.



I committed heresy in a store just a few weeks ago, when I announced that the people behind me would wait while I put my change back into my wallet. I was not about to be shoved like cattle so the bitch behind me could buy her damn breath mints. "Two seconds WON'T kill you, trust me." The shocked and murderous looks of those behind me AT THE END OF THE DAY--it wasn't even morning or lunch hour--was BEYOND any satisfaction that chocolate, sleeping, sex or lottery winnings could have afforded me.



And what does all this rushing get you? NOT A FUCKING THING. My father rushed, ran, had regular anxiety attacks, and eventually pummeled himself into a manic depressive heap coupled with hardened arteries and alcoholism that killed him about 20 earlier than if he didn't have these things. My mother is now riddled with arthritis, a heart condition, a thyroid condition that should have been treated 20 YEARS AGO, and panic attacks because she is still swaying under the weight that she's not done enough for everyone and is running out of time. Is this any way to live? I don't think so. And I don't care who doesn't like it.



When did it become a crime to finish a thought, not be interrupted, and complete one task thoroughly rather than five half-finished? Cell phones, technology, wi-fi, ethernet, machines, computers, digital hoo hahs, blinking bells and whistles and automation gives us this? THIS IS CALLED CONVENIENCE???!!! ARE YOU ALL FUCKING MAD???



J'accuse. I will protest. Slowly. Calmer, meaner, smoother, and with my pencil. Maybe not with a window anytime soon, but definitely slower.



And to those of you who don't like it? Fuck Off.