What the hell is wrong with people, episode 1

As promised, I'm back and starting what I plan to make a recurring feature. Because really, people are stupid. They are careless and unthinking and self-absorbed and, above all, really annoying. Not you, of course. I would never say that about you. But all the other people.

I'm going to try to restrain myself to just one example per edition, so this blog doesn't become one long play-by-play of the perils of driving in "the city that reads" (aka the city that smokes crack and then drives while high, usually while also on the phone). I have a feeling it may make for a lot of installments, but it may also put something of a brake on my misanthropic ranting.

For the first installment, I would like to introduce the receptionist at the lab I visited yesterday for blood work. I signed in and sat down with a magazine. After only twenty minutes, one of the techs called me up and asked for my insurance card and requisition. I was holding one of the babies in one arm and handed her the paperwork. She drew back her hand as if I were handing her a snake (by far the fastest motion I'd seen from either her or her colleague) and said loudly, "I don't open no envelope, oh no, you open it yourself." I did so, awkwardly because of the baby, and she continued to ramble on for the remainder of my time at the desk about how she doesn't get paid enough to open envelopes, that you never know what might be in there, that "it ain't legal to open other people's mail, I used to work for the government, so I know."

I know it's not that big a deal - so I had to juggle a baby and open my own envelope. I'm trying to find the words for why it annoyed me so much. I guess it seemed to me like this woman was substituting what in her head passed for safety precautions (from what?) for courtesy and good judgement. The envelope had the return label of my doctor's office on it (the office right next door) and my name. It was not sealed, it was not mail, and I couldn't be much less threatening (I arrived looking post-partum chic in my sweatpants and maternity shirt, with two infants and my mother). It sort of felt symptomatic of a society in which a million imagined or exagerrated dangers are preventing normal human interaction, or at least providing an excuse for rudeness.

So, there's the first installment of what the hell is wrong with people. Feeding my own irritability, one anecdote of annoyance at a time.