As some of you may have noticed, I occasionally use this space to do a little venting. Okay, well maybe more than occasionally. I like to call it self-therapy.
In that same vein, I like to occasionally reel off some of my leading pet peeves in the hope that some people might change their behaviour. It hasn’t worked so far, in fact, my list has only grown over the years, but that may have more to do with my advanced age than the behaviour of others.
The latest addition to my list of pet peeves are people who don’t seem to know how to drive in parking lots. The lanes are not one-way. The are designed for traffic to go in both directions, but I am forever trying to turn into a lane that is blocked by someone coming in the other direction and blocking the entire lane.
People who feel it necessary to take up two spaces is also a big pet peeve of mine. In fact, Ottawa drivers in general and their refusal to signal when they are changing lanes, or even checking their mirrors, are a pet peeve.
Another new addition to my list are checkout clerks who ask if you would like any bags when you have a shopping cart filled with items, or your arms are overflowing with them. Of course, I want bags. If I didn’t need any bags I would tell you. In fact, there is one store in Orléans in particular in which all the checkout clerks have been put on notice – if I have more than two large items in my hands, I want a bag. Two items, two hands. Three items or more, a would like a bag please.
Speaking of bags, the switch from plastic bags to paper bags by a store which shall remain nameless – Farm Boy – is another new pet peeve of mine because most of the time I have too many items to carry and not nearly enogh to require a large paper bag.
Paper straws have become another huge pet peeve of mine.
Why? Are plastic straws taking up so much space in our landfill sites that we have to switch to paper straws? And don’t paper straws take up just as much space? And before you tell me that I should be recycling my paper straw, please, don’t even go there.
Still another new addition to my list of pet peeves is the announcement you now get when you pull up to the drive-thru menu board at Tim Hortons.
“Please have your method of payment ready to prevent delays in the drive-thru,” or something to that effect. How about they please have my order ready when I get to the drive-thru window to prevent any delays.
Two other pet peeves when I’m out shop-ping are lottery people and dividing bars.
It happens without fail. Whenever I’m in a hurry and I want to pay for my items there is always someone with a fist full of lottery tickets holding up the line as the checkout person dutifully checks every ticket to see if the person has won anything. Then they have to issue the person new tickets. They could save a lot of time by just giving me their money and skipping the part of actually buying the tickets in the first place.
As for dividing bars – the bars stores use to separate orders at the checkout counter – they’ve always been a pet peeve of mine because they are nothing more than an excuse for people having to actually converse with one another. Before the advent of dividing bars you used to have to talk to the checkout person to make sure they knew when the order in front of you ends and yours begins.
Fortunately, with the introduction of self checkout machines I can avoid having to use dividing bars, so they are quickly dropping off my list.
Another pet peeve are people who insist on cycling on the sidewalk. If you are over the age of 12, you should not be cycling on the sidewalk, period, end of sentence.
Still another pet peeve, and I understand that this may be somewhat controversial, are crossing guards who insist on using their stop sign to help anyone over the age of 12 crossing a street, including adults. Surely, by the time you hit puberty you know how to cross the street safely.
Last, but by no means least, are gas pumps that are out of paper when you need a receipt forcing you to go inside to get said receipt. How hard is it to keep paper in the printer?
Well, that just about does it. In fact, I feel so much better now that I’ve gotten that off my chest, at least until I have to get gas from a pump that has run out of paper and then stop by a store where I have to wait five minutes for lottery person to check all their tickets only to be asked if I need any bags once I do get to the counter.
At least, I won’t have to worry about getting run over by an 18-year-old cyclist while walking home. Thank goodness for life’s small mercies.
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