The little things

Let’s talk about the little things. Those small bits of life that separately seem fairly inconsequential, but together can become the cause of multiple tirades on the phone to PPI scouts and general customer service workers, the poor things. Sometimes people refer to these little things as “The straw that broke the camel’s back” or “Arse-ache” as it’s known in other, more frank circles.

Things that push me over the edge are in abundance and unfortunately growing daily, but here’s just a few of them:

  • People being rude
  • People telling me what to do
  • Wednesdays
  • Self-involved people
  • People who squeeze themselves onto the tube when there is clearly no room
  • People who are angry when their efforts to squeeze themselves onto the tube are not well received
  • Passive aggressive people
  • Two-faced people.

Just a small list there, with nary a common denominator in sight and – oh wait. Yes, I see it; it’s people isn’t it?

I don’t think anything else pushes me further into stress than having to deal with other people’s nonsense when I’m already dealing with my own. And I know, I know; this is just a part of life, but sometimes I want to tell life to take a jump off a high bridge. Granted, I used to listen to people talk for a living, and that was fine because I knew that their issues were not directly related to me, and my role in the conversation covered 50 minutes a week.

In the general day to day though, especially during high levels of stress, it’s other people’s extreme emotional reactions to things I don’t care about, or people constantly complaining without looking for solutions, or sometimes just someone saying “Hello”, that makes me want to tear my eyes and ears out so that I can see no evil and hear no evil.

Is that extreme? Probably. Does that stop the feeling? Not so much. Granted, my levels of irritation increase exponentially on a monthly basis for 2 to 4 days, but really, it just amplifies annoyances that were already there.

And as yet I have not found a way to stop these things from irritating me, except perhaps pretending I’m a different person or eliminating the person/ people annoying me in a more permanent way. But since I’m really not built for prison (what with my inability to physically fight people and squeamishness around public toilets), I know I’ll have to find better ways to deal with these frustrations.

A logical person might say “Just tell them how you feel”, but that would imply that I think my own reactions are logical and justified, which a lot of the time they really aren’t. In fact, if I start being honest with people about how irritating I find them on any given day, no one would talk to me again.

Hmm, actually, that doesn’t sound like such a bad idea now that I’ve thought it through…there would be silence at last…so much glorious silence…I must explore this further.

For now I’m just going to walk around with permanent headphones on in the hopes of repelling those who might rub me the wrong way. I’ll add the usual London commuter stance for good measure too; eyes down, lips pursed, staring with intense concentration into space and avoiding all and any eye contact at all times.

Image credit: Frustrated by Christian Frost from the Noun Project

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Maame Blue

Writer| Poet| Blogger| Ghanaian by heart, Londoner by nature

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