Next In Line: The Intersection of Disability with Asshole Customers and What Should Already Not Be Okay

In case anyone that has been following this blog (HAH! Followers.... I crack me up...), I'm no longer a grad student. My program ended up pushing me out (and no Mom, I don't have grounds for any substantive lawsuit). But that doesn't mean I stopped thinking academically about life and situations I may find myself in on a daily basis. Like one I found myself in the middle of on the way home a few weeks ago. 

I stopped at Target for a few things before hitting the highway: lotion, shaving gel, TP, etc. There were a surprising number of people checking out at such a late hour, so the cashiers were all kind of backed up and doing their best to get people out the door in a timely manner. I got in a line with two people in front of me, a gentleman in a suit that I'll call Silver Fox from now on (because he was probably in his mid-forties but damn handsome, and the salt-and-pepper hair gave him a very Richard Gere kind of look) in the middle of being helped. And a younger guy in line behind him, wearing one of these specific Dragon Ball/Z/GT shirts: 

Yeah, you've probably seen them, and to the uninitiated in the ways of the Dragonballs (insert dirty Lord of the Rings joke here, right?), the shirt is a mockup of the outfit the Good Guys wear (think of it as their dojo's uniform) (and yes, pedantic fans, I know, it's called Turtle Training School and run by Master Roshi). This guy also had on a hat with a patch in the image of Totoro on it, so I'm calling him Anime Dude for the rest of this post. 

The cashier (whom I'll call Cashier, so as to give him a "name" here, too) was a man probably a few years older than me (God, I'm officially in my 30s now...), and from listening to him interact with Silver Fox, I could tell he has some sort of developmental disability, accompanied with some sort of mild speech impediment (starting words with hard consonant sounds like hard "c" or a "b" usually involved a stutter). He was being pretty jovial, though, and Silver Fox was smiling and engaging pleasantly in the conversation that Cashier was making; I came in late to the conversation, but it seemed like they were just talking about their mutual love of cheese (I can only presume Silver Fox was purchasing some?). When Cashier told him to have a nice night, Silver Fox said, "You too, son," and grabbed his bag and walked away, smiling.

As Silver Fox was leaving, a woman not much older than me put a hodgepodge of stuff on the conveyer belt: some fruit snacks, an energy drink, diapers, and a thing of baby food. So while I'm a feminist and I don't think a woman's identity is based solely on her motherhood, I'm going to call her Tired Mama (because she sure did  look tired- I smiled at her in an "I get it" kind of way,  and she sighed and smiled back). 

Then Anime Dude's turn came, and after the usual, "How are you?"s were exchanged, Cashier asked, smiling up at Anime Dude (who was a good four or five inches taller than him), "So, that symbol on your shirt, is it Chinese or Japanese?"

"Japanese," Anime Dude said, frankly.

"Aaaah," Cashier said, enthusiastically, "okay, cool! Yeah, when they look like that, I figure it's got to be one or the other, so a fifty-fifty chance, right?"

"It's Japanese,"Anime Dude snapped, kind of jerking his head and his hands to emphasize it. His whole aura was prickly and hostile, and it even caused me to jump back a bit, and I was already a few feet away (because I hate it when people crowd me as I'm being checked out, so I try to provide the courtesy I prefer to others). 

"Oh," Cashier said, looking down now, "sorry." And his body language went from open and excited to closed off and sad, maybe even a little scared. I noticed that while he had maintained eye contact with the Silver Fox at every chance he could, save when he absolutely had to look at the screen or some other thing he was using to do the technical parts of his job at that moment, he was now staring at the things he was scanning, and the counter, and anything else besides Anime Dude he could look at (but, I should note, not anyONE else- he was focused on his station). His shoulders were slouched, his head craned downward.

After a few long, uncomfortable seconds in which  Tired Mama and I exchanged, "Did he really just do that?" looks, I finally couldn't take it.

"Well," I said, toward both Cashier and Anime Dude, "actually," and I tried to sound as authoritative as I could, "that depends. See, Dragon Ball-Z," and at this point, I turned directly to Anime Dude, "and yes, I recognize where that shirt comes from, I get it." And then I turned toward Cashier now, "Dragon Ball-Z, the show that shirt comes from, is a Japanese show, but  the Japanese language has three different  alphabets, one of which is based off of Chinese characters. And the symbols on that shirt," and I pointed at Anime Dude without looking at him, "are from the alphabet based off of the Chinese stuff." At this point, I moved a little closer and turned my body so that if Cashier wanted to, he could look at me and  not have to look at Anime Dude at all while still doing what he needed to in order to finish the transaction (which wasn't much, as they were in the transaction phase at this point). "So, it depends on how you look at it. You could say it's Japanese because it's the Japanese use of that symbol, or you could say it's Chinese because of the original use of it, a Japan-ized version of a Chinese thing, as a way of putting it."

Cashier straightened up like a flower blooming and smiled a little again. "Reeeeally?"

"Yup!" I said, smiling, "I took Japanese in high school, so I know all kinds of stuff about that sort of thing." 

Cashier's smile got even bigger. "Wow, I had no idea! That's so cool!"

"Not really," I said, chuckling, "I'm just a nerd that's into super nerdy things, and fixing mistakes is one of them." I looked pointedly at Anime Dude, who was now the one looking down a little. We made eye contact, though, and then he darted his eyes away.  

"Nah," Cashier said, "that IS cool! My New Year's Resolution was to learn something  new every week, and that makes two things for this week, so thanks!"

"Wow!" I said, "That's a really great resolution! Most people pick things they don't stick to, like losing weight or exercising. Lord knows I have tried that."

At this point, the receipt was printing, and as soon  as Cashier handed it to Anime Dude, who already had his bag, I moved into Anime Dude's space to "suggest" he get out. He went around the edge that's parallel with Cashier, and said, sounding defeated, "You have a good night," to Cashier. Cashier looked a little wary as Anime Dude kind of bowed to me and said, "And you too, ma'am." He looked up at me just before scampering off with a very apologetic look on his face.

I turned to Tired Mama, and she had a kind of smug grin on her own face, as if to say, "Hah, you showed him!"

I spent the rest of my time at the register talking to Cashier about his snow boarding trip from earlier that day and how cool he must be because I know I would spend more time with my butt in the snow than my feet on the snowboard if I ever tried that because I'm so clumsy. I could feel Tired Mama's eyes on me the whole time, and when I finally looked at her, she had a kind of... well... motherly look, like she was proud of her baby bird for flying. Cashier was genuinely funny and earnest, and I didn't pretend to laugh at his jokes, and couldn't have been more sincere when I said I hoped he got some good rest that night when he made it home. 

I knew I was justified. Anime Dude had been a jerk. I mean, Silver Fox had been joking and smiling, and Tired Mama seemed as shocked at Anime Dude as I was, and pleased with how I handled it.

But when I got to my car, I was like this on the drive home:

Seriously, I am still amazed I didn't crash... again... Ugh.

ANYhoo, the whole thing brought up so many emotions for me, on as many levels.

The most general is the interaction between a friendly cashier/person in customer service and an asshole customer. Cashier had been nothing but sincere and pleasant, and for absolutely no reason, entirely unprovoked, Anime Dude snapped at him. I don't care how shitty your day has been, it is 100% not okay to take it out on someone else; and if you catch yourself doing it, you fucking call yourself out and apologize. That doesn't make it okay, but at least it lets the other person know it wasn't them, and it makes it easier for them to move forward.  

This shit happens to me all the time. It's annoying, and I get it, but that doesn't mean it doesn't bother me at least a little. I've had people yell at me for nothing and snap every time I tried to appease them, and a few times they were bad enough before starting to tell me everything that they had on their mind (that had nothing to do with the store they were in, by the way), I even said something along the lines of, "Well, that has nothing to do with me, and I'm trying to make this experience as pleasant for you as possible, but that's easier when I'm not getting yelled at."

I actually had something like this just a few days ago- a gal came in and was super curt the whole time we were interacting, and the fact that she was shopping for a trip that was the next day made any solutions I offered with respect to ordering what she wanted impossible didn't help; I didn't want to ring her up, she had been so rude, but I did, and so I said, "And since I seem to have done nothing but get on your nerves and disappoint you today, I'm going to give you this coupon." She got bug-eyed and apologized, saying she was annoyed with her husband when she walked in, that must have been why she was so rude. I never said she was forgiven; I just nodded, said, "Ah, I see," and kept doing my thing, to give her the same message: That I had nothing to do with what happened with her husband, and she had been rude to me for no reason as I was bending over backwards trying to find what she wanted. She felt guilty, and seemed distressed. And to a certain degree, I felt bad, but not very much: She kind of deserved to realize she had been a shitty person to a super nice one, and it was entirely unwarranted. 

So Anime Dude. My pointed look and "mistake" comment that was totally for him, obviously, were meant to send that message: That he had been shitty for no reason to a perfectly, frankly exemplary, person behind the register- because not every cashier actually makes jokes and conversation. And I'm fairly certain  he got the point, what with how he basically ran off with his tale between his legs. And I'm happy about that. Anime Dude's behavior was 100% Not Okay. And us retail workers need to stick together, and any time we can educate the assholes we deal with is a win. Right?

But the other, deeper level, and the reason I was such a blubbering mess on my home has to do with disability. I saw my little brother in Cashier in so many ways. High-functioning, curious, sweet, sincere. For my little brother, being a cashier would be peek achievement level. And I hate it. Not because I think he's "above" that in some snobby way, but because I know he'll be in situations like the one I just saw. He'll get his own Anime Dude, that snaps for no reason, and he'll think  he did something wrong, but he won't know what. And he'll be as sad and apologetic as Cashier was. Because he won't be able to understand that it wasn't him, his customer was just a jerk, unless someone standing right there can tell him that immediately. And even if he tried explaining it later, he may not have the vocabulary and grammatical skills to express it in a way that someone besides a trained professional or a person in our family would understand well enough to reassure him it wasn't his fault. 

And that enrages me and makes me  want to scream and sob and break a whole dinner set or just knock  over anything knock-over-able in my general vicinity. 

I was proud and relieved I was there for Cashier, but I can't be there every time, and I won't ever be able to be there for my brother. 

I hate that we live in a world where customers can just be assholes and get what they want. But I hate even more that we live in a world that then makes people with disabilities like my brother feel guilty for that behavior. That allows them to feel that way. Because they don't have the comprehension to see that they didn't do anything wrong, that they did everything right. A world where people like my brother, people that need it more than others, can't defend themselves. A world where we put people that are already vulnerable, that already experience all sorts of systemic abuse, into situations where they are supposed to tolerate abuse like that.

This actually relates to the whole Orange Debate: Those oranges that are pre-peeled for convenience also happen to be more accessible, so they're beneficial on multiple levels. Well, this is the reverse: The fact that cashiers are expected to just take it (even though corporate handbooks claim otherwise, that they don't tolerate abuse and stuff, their actual definition of "abuse" really just comes down to overtly threatening language and physical attacks; being super shitty and snapping and even insulting doesn't cut it) is doubly-hard on people with lower cognitive abilities, since the people with disabilities working in customer service are even less likely than non-disabled persons to recognize they hadn't done anything wrong. And  by perpetuating this "the customer is always right" bullshit, we're actually perpetuating a system of ableism.

Because the system doesn't require an apology to the cashier. There is no remedy in the system for the genuinely distressed or hurt feelings a cashier with disabilities may feel as a result of the combination of their shitty customer's behavior and their own cognitive comprehension levels. There is no recourse for a person with disabilities that entirely, 100% unjustly believes they hurt someone else. That person just goes on thinking they upset someone, and that customer goes on with their day, being shitty to other people and not getting any kind of lesson on manners, respect, or humanity. 

AND  WHAT REALLY MAKES ME ANGRY IS I HAVE NO SOLUTION. THIS  IS HOW CAPITALISM WORKS. CAPITALISM IS INHERENTLY ABLEIST IN THIS AND SO MANY OTHER FUCKING WAYS.

I mean, think about it. What if Cashier had snapped back at Anime Dude? Anime Dude could then have complained and had him fired. And Cashier is already in a precarious state: Unemployment and poverty rates for persons with disabilities are leaps and bounds higher than other demographic groups, even when taking into account things like equal levels of educational attainment (so to put it differently, a PWD with a BA is less likely to have a job or more likely to be underemployed than someone without one). This is exactly how intersectionality works. Customer service workers are already lower in the pecking order and prone to being treated like crap by a shitty customer; a person with disabilities is more susceptible to them and less likely to at least have comebacks like I did with the gal who was pissed at her husband. I mean, if I snapped back, I am certain I could get another job, were I to get fired. But if Cashier snapped back, if my brother snapped back, not likely, or at least with much more difficulty.

Because I don't buy the "equal opportunity employer" line. If every company that claims they're "equal opportunity" actually was, the statistics wouldn't be so skewed against persons with disabilities. That's capitalism. These companies don't want to hire (or promote) persons with disabilities for any combination of these, and I'm sure many other that I'm forgetting, reasons:

1) Accommodations may be "too costly."

2) They may assume less output from disabled employees.

3) Whoever is doing the hiring at the ground level has at least latent, if not blatant, ableist tendencies that influence their hiring process.

4) They fabricate statistics to avoid investigations by any organization that may be monitoring them for discriminatory hiring practices. 

Etc.

I don't  really know how to end this. Except to say that customers really shouldn't be allowed to treat people working at where they're shopping/eating/whatever like shit, especially for stuff that's out of the hands of the people working there. But it's exceptionally vile when the target of the poor behavior is a person with a disability. And I recognize I'm saying this from my non-disabled, fully-employed position; but I can't help but picture my little brother with a mop at a McDonald's getting screamed at because someone just clogged the bathroom he had cleaned less than an hour ago, and  him crying because he didn't know what he had done wrong and had just checked on that bathroom and it was fine...

Sigh.

Wide Open Spaces

I had the weirdest thing happen today, and I figured I could turn it into some deep message to anyone that gives a damn, so read on, if you care.

The seating at my favorite on-campus coffee spot, which  is also attached to a cafeteria, was uber full this morning. I'm guessing it was the rain- I imagine I wasn't the only person with the idea of just camping out and working until my meeting, rather than having to go in and out of the rain a bunch of times. No big deal- it happens, right? So I stood around for nigh thirty minutes waiting for a table to clear up in order to meet a former student about grad school rec letters. As soon as one cleared, I put my stuff down, then hopped over and ordered a yummy hazelnut  latte.  

I had been typing, my coffee cooling beside me, as I waited for less than five minutes when this old dude started putting his stuff on my table in vacant seat (for the student). And  I watched, flabbergasted, as his companion started doing the same thing to the young lady, also typing and with the remnants of a coffee and muffin, at the table beside mine. Neither even asked if it was okay, they just did it. 

I said I was waiting for someone to come, could they please find an empty chair, and the guy at my table said this "isn't a place for students to wait around."

Students, huh?

I corrected him and said that I'm an independent instructor, waiting for a student to show up so we could discuss recommendation letters, and he sat down and said, "This is a place for eating, not meeting," as he pulled his bread (I think pumpkin...? some sort of sweet loaf he got from the coffee shop, at least) out of its little wax baggie. 

I held up my own coffee and said, "I paid for this coffee, so I have every right to be here, and you're also obviously meeting with someone, too, so I see no difference between the two of us." 

He pointed at my laptop and said, "You paid for your coffee, but this isn't a place to work, it's a place to eat." 

"Oh really?" I asked. "So are you going to go around to every single other person on a laptop or whose food or drink is empty and tell them to leave? I'm not moving, sir, I paid for my coffee, just like you paid for yours, and this is a public space, so you can't tell me I have no right to be here." 

He grumbled something incoherent, then turned toward his companion and the two started speaking in another language to each other while glaring at me and the other woman whose table had been invaded (obviously they thought she shouldn't have been using her laptop, either). The other guy got up for something just as my student showed up, at which point  the other young lady offered her table to me. I said, very loudly, "Well, there's someone at your table, too, so that's not really going to work." I looked poignantly at the guy across from me. He glared, then moved to her seat, and when his companion returned, they continued to mutter and glare at me as I started talking to my student about her applications. After a few minutes, they seemed to get over it and I'm assuming started talking about other stuff, although I still couldn't understand  them.

Now these two old men... I don't know if they were professors or what, but  they were entirely inappropriate and rude and hypocritical- I had paid for the space I was occupying by buying that coffee that was still too hot to sip. Further, they seemed to have no concept of how public spaces work, let alone ones on or near a university campus- wherever there's a chair, bench, or some other thing you can sit on, there are going to be people camped out, working. Do they go up to complete strangers at the Starbucks off the highway and tell them to leave because they have a book or a laptop? And there's the fact that they didn't ask. And then being so overt about talking trash about me in another language? 

I mean, I seriously have trouble understanding/comprehending how anyone  would think any one  aspect of their behavior was okay, let alone all of it combined!

Of course, I could offer the entirely opposite story from when I was at an airport Burger King once and this adorable old man  in a suit asked to share my table, and I ended up seeing pictures of his grandchildren, including the newborn  he was about to visit. Same situation, different approach, different results. 

This  makes  me  think,  though.

Because while studying (or at least looking like you are) or meeting  people for official stuff (or at least looking like you are) is totally expected in open spaces on campus, even doing so, gasp, socially (!). I do think I'm kind of judgy about other stuff. Like I find it kind of more than a little inappropriate when I see people asleep on benches or soft chairs around  campus. Our  Union has a whole bunch of couches and cushioned chairs on one of its floors, and I swear, I don't think I've ever been  there without seeing at least one person napping. And that just... I dunno, it irks me and weirds me out. And I feel kind of bad about being  judgy, and I usually end up thinking something closer to, "Oh God, that poor person must be so drained and overworked!" but not  until after, "What a slob!" sits there for a few seconds. But I do know I'd never let myself fall asleep in public like that.

And  here's  another thing that irks me: When say you're at a coffee shop, and there's a table big enough for six, and one person is at it, alone, with all of their crap spread all over the table  so a person would either have to move it for them, or they'd have to do it themselves in order for the space to be shared. Now I understand  that sometimes you're alone  and the only table left is the big one, but why spread your stuff, except to passively say, "Fuck off," to anyone considering  asking to share? Again, the idea of acting that way just isn't brain-wrappable  for  me. 

Where does a body draw the line? When does  a body know  when it's okay to ask and when  it's not?

And I feel bad and a little useless for not really even knowing how to begin to answer that. Except maybe to say, "Follow your gut," and hope it's enough? I mean, I know I usually try to take up as little space as possible, and if I'm alone and it looks like someone else needs to sit, I'll sometimes call out to them and offer my spare seat. And I always, always  ask permission to sit with a stranger.

So I guess for once I don't really have much of a deep point to make. I just know that while I may  be kind of rude in my head, I'm not remotely as huge of an asshole as either of those dudes this morning. And no, that's not a very high standard to use, it's better than throwing my stuff down in front of people and trying to make  them feel like crap.

And I'll also say, albeit slightly bashfully, that I'm kind of proud of myself for not just sitting there silent or, worse, getting up. I stood my ground- by sitting on my fat, Native American  ass, to be fair- even was a little snarky, which isn't something I'd usually expect of myself. So, uh, go team?

Too Nice?

I wish we lived in a society where  being nice wasn't taken as "creepy" or "weird." Where helping others, even strangers, was second-nature for everyone. Where niceness wasn't a barrier or rarity. Where being "too nice" isn't a possibility. Where having good intentions doesn't come across as weird or "creepy" or what-have-you.

Although, was I the only person that just
laughed during the whole 'Emo Peter' thing?

I'll start with somewhat of a disclaimer. I recognize that because of my appearance and physicality, I "get away" with a lot more than other people. I'm female, short, pale, heavy, dirty blonde, have a mousy voice, and just generally project a warm, soft aura/presence. Rather than pull their kids closer to them, parents that notice me noticing the kids smile and encourage the kids to interact with me more. If I had darker skin, or were a dude, it wouldn't be the case- and that's society's doing, not my own, just in case we were unclear. So it's probably a good thing I usually "get away with" stuff more often than not, because I'm so inclined to be nice to people I don't know.

But there are some things even I may do without realizing they could be taken as strange, crossing a boundary, or something. I know there have been times where I've reached out to people that I'm not all that close to, and they took it as strange, weird, etc. A few even seemed weirded out enough by it that they gently distanced themselves from me  henceforth. And that kinda sucks- all I wanted to do was remind them they're awesome, people care, and I'd be willing to listen. But it's not like I really blame them- we're conditioned not to trust one another. And  I'm not  even talking about rape culture- just generally. Exhibit A:

The whole Antoine Dodson  phenomena may have been funny, and we make light of what he said in the video, but that moment in our shared cultural experience is a reflection and response to the general self-preservation we're trained to maintain from the moment we can stand. We're raised to be cautious and wary of one another, to put up walls that can sometimes prevent real human  connections. We're raised to believe life  is  the way Hobbes describes it, "nasty, solitaire, brutish, and short," and  because we're all out to get one another and would just as soon stab each other in the FACE, rather than help one another. Or, as Oscar Wilde, said, "A true friend stabs you in the front." You know what?

So there's this woman in my apartment complex that lives by herself. She's not quite retirement age, but close. She has a cat, but before you get into the "crazy cat lady" stuff in your head, I want to stop that bs right now because that crap is crap and I'm fairly certain it's part of the paradox I'm about to present.

Anyhoo.

She lives in the apartment right next to a large patch of grass I sometimes take River to because it's closer to my own apartment than the bigger one she usually ends up at. So quite often, when this woman notices me and River, she'll open the glass door to her patio and tentatively start conversation with me, usually about how pretty River is or the weather at first, then sometimes we'll talk about other things. She prefers talking about me and gives vague answers when I ask about her. Overall, it's obvious she's trying to get some social interaction, but isn't quite sure how to go about it and doesn't wish to come across as self-centered.

I'm not under the impression her shyness is inherent shyness, per se, but rather she's so lonely, she has developed a fear of creeping me out- it's not social anxiety in the usual sense.And I think it partially comes from her awareness of those "crazy cat lady" stereotypes in the first place. Because it's obvious she lives alone with her cat. In fact, she's referenced that specifically and (vaguely) being lonely with me before. She has an aura of sadness and loss. So naturally I've made up this tragic backstory where she had a family that died in some horrible accident while she was out taking that cat to the vet or at home getting a surprise ready for everybody else. Realistically, I doubt it was that cinematic, but I intuitively sense that she had at least one person in her life that is no longer there- could be a parent, lover, I dunno. Whatever that loss is, it's still haunting her, and she wishes for some connection in order to at least ease the pain.

And don't ask me how I know this, I'm just really good at reading people and guessing underlying feelings. I'm basically an empath. Have been all my life, even as a little kid. Hence my Powers of Comfort.

So I'm sad that a lonely woman is afraid to be more outgoing with me, prolly one of the safest people she could possibly try to talk with, because she's afraid I'll think she's "crazy."And I really want to do something nice for her, bake her cookies and bring over stuff for tea so we could sit and chat and she could have a friend. And you know what prevents me? Fear of coming across as creepy!!!! 

Like  this guy

Isn't that ironic? I find it just so messed up. The benefits she'd get if it was successful would FAR outweigh any costs I'd receive if she thought I was creepy. And would the latter even harm her at all? I'd hope not- she'd just think, "Weird-ass young woman with her dog and her loudness and her nosy nature." She'd be irritated, but it wouldn't hurt her feelings.

So to go back to the beginning of the post, we're afraid of trusting others, and we're afraid of coming across as untrustworthy. And I hate both.

I know I've been hurt a lot in my past. And very, very frequently, it has been because I opened up to someone, trusted them, and they hurt me- either eventually, or right away. And one would think that would give me  reason to close myself off, turn  into, as a friend says, a teddy bear in a mecha suit. But  I can't do that. Because the way I see it, it the likelihood that I'd make the kinds  of valuable connections I have because I've put myself out there is slim to none. The good things in life are worth taking risks.

And you know  what? I also think it's pretty shitty that we would be justified in not trusting people. Because yeah, people are assholes. They do stab you in the back, throw you under the bus, send your heart back to the kitchen- that's a fact of life. Being a human with a heart SUCKS. Caring sucks.

Sometimes.

But when it works? It's wonderful. I've  made connections with a handful of people in my life that I'm so grateful for, I cry. (Yeah, yeah, I'm a cryer.) I'd die for them. And, I like to think, they'd do the same. I wouldn't ask  it of them, but that's the point- caring for someone enough that you'd give your  life for them, but never think to ask the same, that doesn't happen often. And I know I have friends close enough to me like that because I've put  myself out there with  them. Because I'm "so nice." 

And while being  "so nice" has caused me pain- whether it's because people have walked all over me, have thought I was "so nice," they couldn't see me as anything  but  friend, or because  people betrayed my trust- I loathe the idea that anyone could be "too nice," as well. 

I get that a lot. "You're too nice!"
There shouldn't be  such a thing as "too nice." People  should just be  kind, caring, considerate, sympathetic (without condescension), empathetic. The  fact that  I demonstrate  these things every day and am somehow outside the norm and exceptional and rare is really fucking awful. And  the fact that I'm still single, and still have trouble finding people that won't hurt me, is just  beyond  fucked up. If I'm "so nice," why is it so easy for me to feel like  nobody cares?

Humanity needs to get its act together. Only through loving one another can we improve our own conditions- what value is there in being a greedy, selfish asshole? You may get a lot of stuff, but if you've stepped on too many people in your quest to get it, you'll be alone with all of that stuff, and then what? If that's enough for you, I feel sorry for you, and in earnest, because, well, my view on life is it isn't what you have, but who you have, that matters.  And a life all about getting stuff rather than helping people and forging honest, loving relationships, would be entirely empty.

So I'm angry. That the woman  in my apartment complex is  alone, and  may stay  that way because of social norms. That my being a good person is, gasp, so rare and special and praise-worthy, and yet, somehow, cause for people to retreat from me. That it's so hard to find people that won't break my heart or leave me  to the wolves.

I haven't seen her in a few weeks. I know she's around- her cat has teased River from the window a few times, and  she switched from her patriotic summer decorations to Halloween ones last week. I dunno. Maybe I'll make  some pumpkin cookies and take a basket to her door with a note. Because no, I don't want to get hurt again,  but  I just feel like this woman has been trying to reach out to me, and society's entirely fucked up system has cut her off from me. And I'd rather take  the initiative in the hopes that I can bring her some goddamned joy  than not and wonder if she's still in pain.

How (and how NOT) to Comfort Someone

I know I'm a mama bear. 

I'm on the left, in case you were wondering

I take care  of others all the time, it's my natural modus operandi. And usually, it energizes me. But every now and then, I'm tired, and I'm hurting, and I just want to let out my own troubles. And then I start to (start to-I don't remember the last time it was complete) confide in someone. And by the end of the conversation...

I'm comforting them.

Wait...

"WHAT?!"

Sometimes, it doesn't really affect me either way- I may not feel any less crappy by the time the convo is over, but I don't feel an increase in crappy feelings, either. But  other times, it makes me feel worse, because it signals that the person I was interacting with doesn't care enough to let me finish or really only keeps me around  to serve as free therapist. And whether or not I'm more upset, I'm usually at least a little annoyed. 

PROTIP: If someone says they're sad, immediately saying you're sad, too, is THE WRONG THING TO SAY. Seriously, it negates their feelings and makes it about you. If you want to comfort someone, keep your own shit to yourself, at least at first- start out by  acknowledging their feelings and prove you've contemplated them before offering your own shitty shit. If you don't send a message that you've heard them, they won't feel heard- and it'll come across as if your only motivation for talking at the time is for them to hear you.

Trust me, I'm an expert comforter. I earned my Ph.D. in comforting others before I was ten. So believe me when I say, the worst thing you can do when trying to make someone feel better is make the conversation about yourself*. Sure, present parallels as a way of demonstrating you understand, but always bring it back to the other person's feelings before you finish your statement(s)- finish telling your experience with a reflection on theirs. For example, the first three lines of a conversation:

"I'm feeling  kind  of crappy right now."
"Aw, how come?"
"Well, my dog died a year ago today, and every dog I've seen for the past week has made me remember him. I don't even know if I'll ever be able to get another dog again."

The Proper Response:
"Oh, I'm so sorry. I understand. He was a really great dog, irreplaceable, I agree. You know, I lost my cat five years ago, I grew up with her. It took me two years to get a new one, and I still miss her sometimes. So I know it's hard, and it's okay if it still hurts, even years from now. But maybe someday you'll be able to get another dog. Not a replacement, because it's not like you can just replace an important part of your life. No  other dog will ever be the same, but that's okay. He was YOUR dog, and special for that! But a new dog for a new kind of companionship may someday happen, too. And you know what? It's okay if it doesn't."

The Wrong Response:
"Oh, I know  what that's like. When my cat died, I was so sad, I didn't even eat for two days. I was a wreck, because gee wiz, that really sucked. I was so sad, I didn't want to go to school. I kept crying in class and expecting her to be there when I got home, then I'd cry when she wasn't. I mean, I still miss her, and I was a kid when that happened. Whenever I see a cat that looks kind of like her, I remember how she crawled on my shoulders as I was trying to do homework and I get this sinking feeling in my stomach."

Do you see why? The first offers comfort, the second is a passive request for it. The second barely acknowledges the person whose dog died, while the first is mostly about that. The first uses the personal experience as  reference point, the second is all about that personal experience.

You shouldn't make it about you. If they say  they're upset first, it should be about them. Even just saying, "I'm sad, too," without offering any words of encouragement (sorry, an "internet hug" doesn't count) is potentially hurtful, because it signals you'd rather discuss yourself instead of the other person's feelings.

Now, here's the thing. It's okay for you to be in pain and not up to dealing with theirs. So what then? You tell them that, plain and simple. "I wish I could help you, but I'm so messed up over my own shit right now, I'm kind of useless.." And if they offer for you to share your stuff, say no. If they persist, only offer your problems  up if  they say it'll distract them from theirs- this sometimes genuinely works for me, which is why I already said it's sometimes energizing to care for others. It does sometimes give us something to focus our attention on apart from our own shitty lives, so if they say as such, then it's okay. Otherwise, try to avoid the conversation altogether if you know they're unhappy and you're not happy enough to provide the kind of comfort they need.

This may genuinely come as shock, folks, but part of why I don't often confide in others (for the real stuff- complaining about the bureaucratic failings of my department or something is small potatoes compared to the REAL shit going on in my life, I promise) is that it HARDLY EVER WORKS. I'm stuck in this terrible cycle of everyone expecting me to be the one comforting them, no matter what the blazes is going on, so if they're already upset, they take me initiating conversation with them as a chance to unload on me. I've had conversations that started with me sobbing so hard my chest hurt turn into me hugging the other person, petting their head, and telling them it's going to be okay. 

And no, not eeeeverybody does this to me, but more do than don't. And it's enough that I just don't bother talking to the people that don't because I'm so used to keeping things to myself. 

So back to the example. I realize  that no, not everyone would respond to the second one like I would- my instinct to care for others means I'd answer the unstated request: I'd tell that person I'm so sorry, do they think they'll ever get a cat again, etc. I'd ask them for happy/funny stories about the cat to remind them that while the loss was sad, the contribution the cat made was a net positive. And I'd crack jokes and do all I could to get them to laugh.

So this  means  that yeah, okay, maybe this isn't universal truth, but I know this is how I respond. And I know I'm not the only one. And everyone tells me I'm so good at comforting people, how do you do it? And so instead of saying, "BOOBS!" like I usually do to be funny, this is some legit, serious advice for making other people feel better.

So here's a very clear how-to, based off of a combination of what I know has worked when providing the comfort, and what I have experienced on the receiving end as helpful or NOT helpful: 

• When someone expresses being upset, sad, etc. (whether they came to you or it's because you asked what's up, how they are, etc.), do not react by presenting your own crappy situation (current or not). Start out by acknowledging how they feel- give it a thorough verbal contemplation. 
• If you absolutely CANNOT keep in your own  shit, be as brief and vague about it as possible- only say enough for them to understand that your empathy comes from the fact that your situation is/was similar. 
• Also, for the love of God, don't shoehorn your own story- if your only way of comforting is through sharing your own experiences, even if they aren't applicable, then, well, stop comforting, or just nod and encourage but don't say much else. It's possible to comfort people WITHOUT talking about yourself, after all. But it needs to actually pertain to the circumstances.  NEVER try to equate, say, insurance problems with someone losing a loved one. Believe it or not, a common element does not remotely equate the same experience. Not only does it make you seem even  more selfish than if you poorly present just something genuinely similar (i.e. they lost their grandma to cancer, you lost yours a while back in a car accident, so you spend a very disproportionate amount of time on that (thus not following the above bullet)), but also makes you come across as not understanding them at all (because if you somehow thought these two things are the same, you must have been the wrong person to come to, because you obviously misunderstand completely).
• Take cues from them both in the present conversation and based off of what you know of them as to whether they're seeking advice or just a chance to vent (and sometimes also hear that it'll be okay). And for  your own well-being,  if you know they're the kind of person that argues with advice, no matter how good, don't give it. Even if they seem to be seeking it, play dumb. If they ask directly, say you don't know, or give such a non-answer that they'd have nothing with which to argue. If that frustrates them, say something like, "I don't think you're ready for advice yet, it's still too soon, why don't you process how you're feeling, first?" or something. Dealing with hostile comfort seekers is tricky, and you shouldn't be attacked by someone you're trying to show kindness to, so it's okay to dodge a confrontation over advice. Their comfort shouldn't be through bashing you. If that seems to be the only thing that makes them feel better, reassess how important that person is to you, and at least consider avoiding  them when they're sad.
• Actively listen, meaning demonstrating you're listening and actually hearing them. The most common form is restating some of what they've said  in the form of a question. (But be careful, asking for something like the date or time- unless there's a temporal aspect to their upset- makes it seem like you're more concerned about superficial details than the actual meat of the matter.) You can also do this by nodding, maintaining eye contact, and making little "Mm-hmm" and "Uh-huh" sounds or saying, "yeah," "okay," etc. And, "Go on, I'm listening," if there's a pause or they seem to get hesitant. 
• Never end on your own story- always come back to theirs and demonstrate how what you learned (if  it's in the past) or are learning (if it's current) from yours can help them get through their own situation.
• If you're down with touch, offer to hug. If they want one, they'll take it. If they don't, they won't. Sometimes people averse to touch may feel like a hug could help, so give them the option. If you're both comfortable with it, maintain physical contact by letting them lean on you, holding their hand, rubbing  their arm, etc.
• If you know they like comfort through physical contact, but you don't like touching people, try to gather the guts to at least touch their arm or something once or twice- if they know you don't usually do that, it'll mean a LOT to them. 
• Put. Your. Phone. Away. If it makes an alert noise (text, email, FB, etc.), don't check it (although if  it seems  to keep going off, silence it). If it's ringing, apologize and stop it. If you do end up needing to mess with it  because some sound won't let up, don't have it out for more than a few seconds. I hate that I should need to say  this, but I've had people answer their phone on me while I'm in the middle of crying when  the received call wasn't even an emergency (and  then a few of them wondered why I said for them to never mind when they eventually hung up).
• Don't blame them for their suffering in a mean way- it's possible to gently help them to understand how they've contributed to the situation, but this should also come directly with solutions and praise for recognizing that once they do so.
• Don't downplay the situation to the point of delegitimizing their feelings (as in saying, "It's not that bad, why are you so upset?" in a way suggesting they're overreacting and being  irrational). 
• Avoid offering "advice" that comes across as judgy or know-it-all-esque. Be helpful, not bossy or condescending. 
• Don't change the subject too soon because doing so indicates you're uncomfortable or don't care, thereby demonstrating you were the wrong person to turn to, and thus making  the person feel dumb. It's okay to change the subject, but you need to feel 100% certain they're okay with that- so the best way is to either wait for them to do it, or ask if they feel any better or need to keep talking about whatever it was.

I know that's a lot, so if there's one thing you take home from this post, it's this:

Please, think about it before you offer your own sob story to someone that's already crying. You may just make it worse.

Now go forth and comfort someone you know, and take this image with you for strength:

Right on, dog.

*Okay, prolly not always the worst thing, but it's pretty bad. See the bullet list to notice some other things you could mistakenly do wrong. 

I Hate April Fools Day

And to elucidate why, I'm going to just give you a run-down of my day yesterday.

I got up and walked River first thing, then got some work done- what else is new, right? Well, actually, that latter part- my mornings are usually entirely unproductive, so the fact that I sent five important emails, and made a Facebook event for one of the lectures I'm putting on and sent a Tweet about it, and re-Tweeted said Tweet on my own Twitter (God, I hate the language of the Internet sometimes, SMH), that's pretty fucking fabulous.

But anyhoo, I digress.

So I also went and snatched a package from the leasing office and paid my rent. Whilst there, I informed the ladies working there that on Friday, my awesome roommie was vandalized and thieved- her clothes had been taken out of the washing machine for our building and scattered all about the laundry room, and her hamper was stolen. All this while they left her huge, Sam's Club sized tub of laundry soap just sitting there. So was it a prank? Meh, doesn't matter, that's an asshole thing to do.

But while one of the gals working in there was really concerned about it, the other was seemingly annoyed that I'd have the audacity to inform them that there's someone filching things from the laundry room on the property she's supposed to be managing. I could call the cops, but they won't do anything, she said; My roommate should just be more careful with her stuff, she said; It's a shame, but what are you gonna do, she said. The other gal seemed appalled by this behavior, but, well, what could either of us do about that? The one being all shoulder-shrug-ee about it was the boss.

So then I opened the package once I got home, and it was filled with pieces of what looked like bone, made out of resin.

Wait, what?

Yeah, they definitely looked kind of like bone. Wait, no- antlers. Yeah.

What. The. Fuck.

And the address and name were entirely correct. So I looked in the package and found a very sweet little "thanks for shopping with me" slip that had an email address on it, as well as the name of the business (which confirmed the antler thing). I looked at my bank account and saw nothing from them in it when checking the last three months (although I did see that someone in Vegas bought makeup at Ulta... Mom...).

Now this was getting slightly creepy. 

"What uninformed friend would send you antlers, Gab?" my roommie asked. Fuck if I know.

As it had originally arrived April 1st, I thought mayhap it had been some sort of bizarre April Fool's joke. But I emailed the owner of the business, suggesting maybe it had been a gift, etc., and didn't hear back from him before hopping on the bus to campus. My first stop there was to the undergrad library (GULP) to do some color printing of posters for the lecture today. I should have done this last week, but health and that personal crap got in the way, so I decided it'd be best to just print one for each elevator in my building, as well as my own office door. To my chagrin, though, the computer took almost eight minutes to finally be able to handle Firefox (I know this because I got through two distinct songs on the album I had going on my MP3 player, and they run just shy of eight minutes together). So it took me way longer than anticipated to get that done.

Of course, I forgot my phone, so I had to borrow one from an officemate (and BFF) to order the pizzas for the lecture today. Eighteen. Sigh. It's always hard not to eat them, because I'm in love with pizza and it's there... but I always get a swanky dinner after the lecture (like the main perk I get from this gig- I'd get more out of it if I was an environmental policy person, not a social policy one). So I'd just embarrass myself if I took any. Plus, we usually run out, so yeah.

Then as I was actually putting those posters up, I got hit with a wave of ickiness and realized I was cramping. And the day I had another appointment, of all days... But I got the posters up, then dicked around on a lab computer until I needed to go meet a friend that was kind enough to take me to my appointment.

On the way to our designated meeting spot, I come across a dollar bill, folded in half (hamburger style) on the ground. Hm, that's strange, there are two bros right there. I ask them if it was theirs, they say no, looks like it's mine now. Well, okay. So I pick it up and start to walk again. But I notice it feels off- heavy, like there's something inside it. I feel it a bit with my thumb and notice it's a bit cold and has some sort of round shape. Indeed, something's in there. Gum? I squish and BOY DOES IT SQUISH. Out oozes something soft and brown that smells.

Yes. Shit. The dollar had a dollop of feces in it. 

I turn in panic and notice the two bros are chucking and staring at me. 

And I'm so embarrassed, I toss the dollar into some bushes and run, crying, into the nearest building to wash my hands.

Why the fuck is that funny? That's terrible and mean and cruel.

The friend I met up with also feels the same about Arpil Fool's Day. She even posted something about it on her FB, to which a few people responded with what comes down to, "If they're being an asshole, they're doing it wrong." She also pointed out that people like her (and myself) are highly susceptible to it because we're usually extremely trusting, almost to a fault. So if someone tells her she can get a free puppy, she's not going to think of the fact that it's April Fool's Day, she's going to call the number after discussing it ad nauseum with her fiance; and she's going to be really hurt and upset when the guy that answers the phone says some of his friends put up a fake sign with his number as a means of pranking him, never mind what it would do to people like my friend that genuinely wanted a dog. (And yes, I'm paraphrasing something she ended up telling me.) So she and I ranted about this a bit together when we got on the bus and went to her apartment. I then hung out with her and the two other people in her relationship for a few hours. But the whole time, the shit thing and the story she told me and some of my past experiences with April Fool's Day were bubbling in my head. I couldn't even watch Buffy all that enthusiastically.

My problem is that April Fool's Day isn't really about "jokes." It's just an excuse to be an asshole, so those people aren't really doing it wrong- and, actually, what's the "it" in the first place? April Fool's Day is a "holiday" for making rude behavior and pranking socially acceptable  People can let their inner fucktwat out by using "APRIL FOOLS!" as a disclaimer. It gives people with a propensity to troll have a shield behind which they can troll even more openly. And it makes people think being offensive is okay. That people are overreacting or "have no sense of humor" if they do get hurt or upset. And then those assholes doing the "pranks" make that person feel bad for being hurt.

When I was a senior at my undergrad, our school paper put an April Fools Day insert in. It was meant as satire, as a joke, but it was offensive. Because the main headline was a fictional story about how a (fake) local tribe kidnapped the college's president (a dude I was already on a first-name basis, let me say) and held him hostage in his office, demanding their lands back. There were statistics about scalpings, and a photoshopped picture of that same college president in a hugeass, stereotypical headdress, beside a bunch of very stereotypical dudes like this*:

It caused a huge stir, and I led the assault through letters to the editor, speeches on the floor of our student Senate, and meetings with various administration members. All the while, the editors and writers of the paper claimed "SATIRE! APRIL FOOLS! Don't you get the joke? No? Then you're just a prissy little prat. You have no sense of humor. And you should apologize to me for accusing me of being mean to you." The President wrote his own letter to them, and so did their own adviser, a personal friend of mine through our work with the first-generation/working-class organization on campus, too. In the end, I made a lot of enemies for it- I was still getting rude emails when my mom got into town to see me walk for graduation, and as recently as three years ago, someone I graduated with referenced it in a very snarky, snide way in their blog (something like, "And don't worry, no Native Americans were in any way objectified or hurt in the writing of this post, [insert my full name here]."). I saw it as standing up to a bunch of white trust fund babies that used April Fools Day as an excuse to make racist jokes at the expense of my people, while they saw it as a bully with no sense of humor demanding a school paper be censored ala George Orwell or some shit. 

I hate April Fool's Day because it's a means of legitimizing laughing at, not with, others. It's used as an excuse to hurt people.

Now, okay, I'll say that I'm cool with little jokes on April Fool's Day, mostly harmless stuff like when Google made it so you couldn't click on anything a few years ago, or the way Overthinkingit goes to Underthinkingit for the day. But nothing at the expense of others is okay. It should be laughing with, not at, each other. Any jokes on April Fool's Day should be no more extreme than anything you'd do on any other day- which, yeah, defeats the purpose, but then I ask you to ask yourself, what IS the purpose, then, other than to hurt people and point and laugh at them as they suffer? 

But I'll end on this: I got an email back from that business owner. Turns out, the antler pieces are real- they're chew toys for River that my older sis sent me as a gift, since I was telling her how River destroys supposedly indestructible toys in a few minutes, and her own dog loves these things and is a chewer of the same caliber. They come from this website, here. Very nice guy, and I got warm fuzzies when I realized it truly is a totally private business, and just LOOK AT THAT DOG ON THE HOMEPAGE!

So it wasn't a weird April Fool's joke. And that would have been okay, because that's not really mean, just weird. But instead, it was a nice gesture from the sister to which I wish I was closer.

But my roommate's laundry basket, while that wasn't on April 1st, that's still an asshole thing (and the fact that it being a prank was suggested by the office worker speaks volumes).

Putting shit in a dollar bill the day after April Fool's Day proves you're a sadistic asshole that needs have his balls put in a toaster. And laughing at the person that finds it proves you should then be forced to eat them.

*Not to say headdresses are entirely illegitimate- rather, in the context, they were obviously going for the huge, telling image, one more akin to this  or this, rather than anything remotely culturally sensitive.