You’re excused and I’m not sorry

Recently, I was told that I was ‘too polite’.  The comment really didn’t register then partly because I was at work and it was from someone who is somewhat compromised in their own way.  But the more I pondered the observation, the more I realized its validity – I am too polite.  If someone bumps into me at the grocery store and it’s clearly their fault, I end up apologizing.  Moreover, my initial reaction to the previous post was – “Wow, I should apologize and claify what was written.  It sounded so severe.  No one is ever going to send me another Christmas card again!”

Apart from the over-dramatazation of that reaction, some who read the post may interpret it in that unintended way. And that’s what fuels my constant need to apologize; even when I do nothing wrong.  Quite frankly, I’m over it.

So what happened? How did the general public become so … freakishly sensitive.  Well, I’ll tell ya’.

The political correctness conscience has become so heightened that people are offended by every word that is spoken and/or written. I could rant on and on, but all that really needs to be said is this  –  deal.  Grow a set while your at it too, you pansy-assed whiners.

For me personally, it’s a learned behavior.  I blame this thing I call a profession – retail.  When situations arise and the customer is in fact the one at fault – remember I wrote an entire novel about this –  if an apology or acknowledgement of the situation doesn’t happen on my part, that customer is often disgruntled.  This is not good. God forbid said customer  fills out the damn receipt survey.  The monthy delight score goes out the fuckin’ window and there’s hell to pay.

It’s draining; physically, mentally, and emotionally.  So, I need to change.

Yes, I realize that I do need to continue to work.  Though I can be ‘creatve’ with the way I handle situations at work.  Believe it when I say that I am very creative.  Really it’s these personal interactions that need the overhauling.  All I gotta’ say is, I pity da’ fool walking through the grocery store distracted by some handheld devise that bumps into me and growls as if it’s my fault.   The only thing sorry will be their ass.

Those who know me realize that my bark is much bigger than my bite, but remember I’m changing. Right?




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