People who leave their shopping carts next to the handicapped spaces in parking lots because “there’s a space there”–into the Pit with you!
People who make left turns v-e-r-y s-l-o-w-l-y–into the Pit with you!
Stores (Target) that don’t carry mop heads for the mop you bought there four months ago–you go Pit-ward too!
People who get RIGHT BEHIND YOU when you go to pay for something and do a little impatient dance while you’re scanning your card and then, the very second you’re done, slam their one item down for the cashier to scan–you just lost your item and you’re going to the Pit.
On the other side of the issue, people who stand in front of the card scanner thingy and put every single coin and bill into labeled compartments in their wallet (or whatever they’re doing) and don’t move for eight years while you’re trying to pay for your purchases–give me all your money and go to the Pit.
Okay, here’s a minor thing, but it disproportionately bugs the shit out of me. It’s the word “mic.” Now, for years and years, we had this word “mike” – everyone knew that it was shorthand for “microphone,” everyone knew how to spell it, everyone knew how to pronounce, and the spelling helpfully reflected the pronunciation. But now, for reasons unknown, it’s been driven into the wilderness by “mic” – a word that, every time I see it, I can’t help mispronouncing as “mick.”
How about the coffee shop alchemists who add a bit of sugar to their coffee, a bit of milk, stir stir stir, carefully taste, add a bit more sugar, perhaps some of those mysterious powders they have lying around, add a splash of milk, stir stir stir, carefully taste, add a bit more sugar, stir stir stir, taste, nod, get a napkin, unfold and refold as an origami octopus, rearrange the counter items, wait for the coffee temperature to drop to exactly 125 degrees F, give it a wine connosoir style spin, taste, nod, attach the lid, rotate the lid so the sip hole is facing them, then set it down, carefully zip up their coat, make sure they have their wallet and keys, wipe their glasses on a napkin, make another origami animal, and then, finally, stroll away so casually that passing icebergs ruffle their hair.
All while a line of people has formed behind them, of course, so they can add the one splash of milk, grab a sugar or two and a stir stick, and get out of there before their meter expires.
Asshole drivers who nearly kill people getting off streetcars.
You see that giant vehicle running on tracks in the middle of the street?
You ever stop to think about how disembarking passengers get from the vehicle (on your left) to the sidewalk (on your right)? (Stupid question. Obviously you haven’t.)
You see the sign that says “STOP BEHIND OPEN DOORS”?
You know what happens if you don’t?
You run a very real and immediate risk of killing someone as they get off the streetcar.
You are the one with the driver’s licence, and with the enormous hunk of steel and glass under your control. You are the one that has to know what the rules are in the area you are driving in. The rules here: You are the one that has to stop.
Fucking pay attention.
It would really wreck my day to watch someone get smushed as they get off the streetcar that I’m riding on.
My gripe… drivers who stop 6 car lengths behind other cars at a red light, then
S - L - O - W - L - Y creep up to an acceptable distance before coming to a full stop. Dammit! Just zip up and come to a stop!
Listen, I know I’m waiting in the phone queue, and frankly I don’t really mind the 12 minute wait to talk to somebody who actually knows what he is talking about and can answer my question.
But you don’t need to remind me EVERY FUCKING THIRTY SECONDS that you haven’t cut off the phone call. That’s what the goddamn Muzak you pipe onto the line does. I don’t need a ten-second reassuance that I haven’t been trapped in the land of strings and woodwinds for the rest of my natural existence after only twenty seconds of reprocessed instrumentals. And if you’re going to play the reminder every thirty seconds, don’t start it with a little click that sounds just like a live person picking up the phone.
Actually, what makes the most sense is to approach the light gradually. Not to stop 6 lengths back and then creep up, and definitely not to approach at the speed limit and stop at the last possible second. The former is annoying, and the latter wastes gas. Besides, what difference does it make? The following cars are not going anywhere until the light turns green anyway, right?
I was gonna start a pit thread about this but this is as good a place to put this… I’m in front of the self-serve scanners at the supermarket. There are four scanning registers, two on each side. Today (as most days) three were occupied and one was out of service. So I stand in line directly in the center of the aisle, waiting for the first scanning machine available to open. Like so…
S2 S3
S1 S4
me
Some jackass straddles up BESIDE me… what the fuck?
S2 S3
S1 S4
ja me
I’m going to make a unilateral rule here on behalf of mankind. In the future, in this arrangement, we’re going to line up in the middle in a line, like so:
S2 S3
S1 S4
me
you
everyone else
And we’re going to go in order of line. In other words, if you’re third in line, you get the third vacant scanner. We’re not going to play gambler and line up behind individual scanners (if that’s even possible). Capiche?
If my coworkers don’t stop losing their copies of the shipping labels I give them, I am going to pit them for reals. For heaven’s sake, how many times do I have to tell them to hang onto those goddamn labels?! The shipping company’s website is not user friendly at all and looking up tracking numbers is a major pain in the ass - that’s why I gave you a copy of the label in the first place! And then sent not one, not two, but THREE officewide emails to the entire floor reminding you not to lose them! (The second and third emails were prompted by multiple people being snotty because no one had ever told them that their goddamn paperwork shouldn’t be used as toilet paper or whatever the fuck they did with it.)
1). Dipshits (usually in, but not limited to, pickup trucks) who drive IN THE CITY in the CRYSTAL CLEAR PREDAWN with their fog lamps on. Ooooooooooooh! YOU have FOG LAMPS! You just can’t resist turning them on, can you? WE ARE IN AWE OF YOUR FOG LAMPS. Rest assured. The rest of us motorists are admiring them at every turn. Even though many of us have fog lamps and are choosing to leave them off until we happen to be driving on a poorly lighted road in ACTUAL FOG, always remember: we thrill over our morning coffees in their to-go mugs at the daring blaze of your fog lamps in our rearview mirrors, or better yet, coming at us in the opposite flow of traffic, wearing a canny commuter’s smug and superior I HAVE FOG LAMPS stare as you rattle along.
2). Many mornings just ahead of me in the University area, the woman in the blue Tracker who stops in the middle of the street LESS THAN A DOZEN YARDS from a turn-out designed for dropping people off to let out someone I never see, so focused am I on leaning on my horn. No, I’m not going around you, even though it would be a simple matter. I’m going to lean on my horn every morning that you stop dead in the street in front of me, just to ANNOUNCE to the ENTIRE CAMPUS that yes, your time is MUCH more important than mine.
Depending on what you’re purchasing, the impatient dance may be called for.
People who cheerfully wander around shopping all day without an actual paper dollar to their names, despite all of the ATMs that abound, thus purchasing cups of coffee, and other equally minute and mundane items, with their fucking credit cards, are a major pet peeve of mine. To the Pit with them! It’s A DOLLAR NINETY EIGHT! WHY THE FUCK DON’T YOU HAVE A DOLLAR NINETY EIGHT IN CASH? POCKET CHANGE? WHEN’S THE LAST TIME YOU SAW AN ACTUAL PIECE OF AMERICAN CURRENCY, YOU ANNOYING TIME-CONSUMING-MAKE-SURE-YOUR-SIGNATURE-IS-PRETTY-AND-YOU-TUCK-YOUR-RECEIPT-AWAY-CAREFULLY-IN-THE-VERY-SPOT-YOU’RE-SUPPOSED-TO-KEEP-REAL-FUCKING-MONEY-MOTHERFUCKER?
Drives me nuts. So much so that I don’t even know if the above makes much sense.
I live in the country. It’s even worse here because they turn their fog lamps on every. Profanity of choice. Night. And do they turn them down when someone is coming from the opposite direction? No because THEY HAVE FOG LAMPS. A deer might run out in front of their car! Oh noes! They have to use their FOG LAMPS to blind the deadly deer! Or they might have COLORED FOG LAMPS! Then they have to turn them on to show that their lights come in yellow or purple or plaid or what have you.
When I rule the world, fog lamps will be smashed by giants. :mad: