The longer I live, the less patience I have for shenanigans. For example, last week I was picking up my clothes from the cleaners:
ME: Oh, it looks like you missed ironing on that sleeve.
ME: So would you like me to wait here until you fix that?
And on my last date (years ago):
DATE: I was thinking we could go on a hike.
ME: Oh! That sounds like fun! I hope you have a good time. I’ll just wait here in the car until you’re finished.
ME: And then let’s get something to eat I’m starved
I’ve realized the older I get…the more I’m turning into my mom. (Which is AWESOME of course! Right mom??) I’ve discovered I have less time on this earth for putting up with stupidness. I guess that’s why you always see old people at the symphony and never on facebook. They don’t mess around.
I aspire to be like that.
Last week my threshold for tolerating shenanigans was violated when I was driving to work, and I saw a car…
…back into the car behind it.
It didn’t just bump it, it bumped it and then kept on going.
I was a little surprised but was certain they’d pull over and take care of that.
But they didn’t. They started driving off!
Don’t worry I stopped them!
ME: Hi you totally just backed into that car back there
HER: What? Really? I didn’t feel it!
ME: Why don’t we pull over and take care of this?
So we did, though she left her car running (???)
Now, the car was pretty beat up already and it was hard to tell which dents and scrapes were hers. But I saw she’d hit it pretty hard so some of them had to be from her.
HER: I didn’t do that! There was no way I did that!
ME: Maybe you should go knock on their door and talk to them.
HER: *storms off to the porch*
She began knocking on the door angrily. In the meantime…I took pics of both license plates.
After a few minutes, it became clear no one would be answering the door.
ME: Looks like no one’s home. I guess you should probably leave a note.
HER: I’m a grownup, you know! I can take care of this!
ME: Well, yeah, except you totally were driving off
ME: …And that was pretty squirrelly.
(I really did say this.)
By now, the girl looked like she wanted to punch me in the face. Undeterred, I asked if I could get her name and number, just in case.
HER: WHY WOULD YOU NEED MY NAME AND NUMBER??!
ME: Er. Well, you’d need a witness, right?
HER: WHY WOULD I NEED A WITNESS IF I WAS THE ONE TELLING THEM I BACKED INTO THEIR CAR?? I CAN TAKE CARE OF THIS! I’M A GROWN-UP!
I got in my car and drove off, never knowing if she left a note or got in contact with them. I’m sure she did. Absolutely sure.
I was so sure, in fact, that when I got to work I emailed the SLC police department with the story and pics of the license plates.
(Told you I didn’t like shenanigans.)
On a side note: If you live on 200 N in the SLC avenues and your bumper’s been mooshed and no one left a note or anything…you might wanna get in touch.