A co-worker passed along a message to me that a female friend of his was upset that we were “driving really slow” through an upscale shopping district known for its people-watching and narrow walkways popular with locals and visitors alike, with the implication that we were “checking out chicks,” and because she has nothing better to do, she was considering filing a complaint. A very stupid complaint.
I always wonder how people can be so quick to jump to conclusions based on complete ignorance.
“I don’t know anything about this issue, but I’m going to have an opinion nonetheless!”
- We were clearing a call. You know, an emergency call, the type of crap we do for a living. “I’m sorry, sir, we can’t respond to your request for medical assistance because we’re afraid that some random nobody will complain that we were ‘cruising,’ even if it’s the only time today we set foot in the shopping district.”
- I’m unaware of how to exit the complex without doing at least some driving inside the complex.
- It was dinner time. We had not even finished cooking yet. Way more important than “checking out chicks.”
- I’d hate to be a pedestrian where this woman drives if she thinks there’s no need to drive slowly in a place that has crosswalks like every 100 feet and more kids than the Matrix’s battery farm. In a rig with more blind spots than a bat with chickenpox.
- The many kids and their parents who waved at us didn’t seem too unhappy that we were driving through. Perhaps this woman is upset we didn’t wave at her?
So, lady, file all the complaints you want. I don’t give a shit. I hope the poor person tasked with listening to all you crazies calling about bullshit laughs at you.*
Just like when I’m standing in line at Starbucks getting a cup of coffee, don’t fucking talk to me unless you have something intelligent to say.