Lisa Hoffman & Charles Atkins

Published January 27, 2005

"If looks could kill, would anyone be left?"

Charlie Writes:

The winter doldrums are here. The holidays have past, although the foil-wrapped chocolate truffles linger, as does an uninvited five pounds that has migrated to my midsection. So for our essay, on this brutally cold January day, it seems fitting that we give vent to a few of our least-favorite things; it’s Kvetch Day. This is similar to other holidays, like Thanksgiving or the Jewish Day of Atonement. But instead of saying "thank you" or "I’m sorry"--this is a special time to gripe and complain. And while scholars believe the origins of Kvetch Day are pagan—dating back to the Roman god, Curmudgeonus—this has never been confirmed. So as we set about celebrating this important—and thankfully non-commercial holiday--we must not forget the true spirit of Kvetch Day, which is--whoever complains the loudest, lives the longest.

"Okay," I say to Lisa, who’s looking a bit like a lumberjack in flannel shirt and jeans, "you start. What things do people do that annoy you?"

She’s ready; she has a list; she’s checked it twice. "I hate it when someone gets your attention by tapping your shoulder or grabbing your arm, or putting their hot clammy hands on your back. I only want to be touched by people I love."

"Oh," she continues without pause, "I have a friend who can’t hold a conversation for two minutes without her beeper going off. I can’t stand that! I can see it now on her tombstone, ‘God beeped her.’"

"Similarly," I say, getting into the holiday spirit, "I hate it when you’re in the check-out line, and the phone rings behind the counter. Why is it that even though you’ve been waiting, the call takes priority?"

"And," Lisa says, moving through her list. "There are people who are so preoccupied with their looks. They constantly play with their hair, and check themselves in mirrors. I had a boyfriend—a famous artist—who was so vain; he couldn’t pass a mirror without stopping to preen…And I don’t like people who drum their fingers. It makes me feel that I’m being rushed.

"And," she continues, kvetching faster than I can type, "the incessant chatter on cell phones. It’s out of control!"

"It’s ridiculous," I agree, "I was in THE GAP last week, and the man next to me was browsing through the sale rack while asking his wife--over the cell—‘Honey, should I buy cargo pants?’"

Lisa’s black-cat earrings bob merrily as she comes to her next gripe. "I don’t like it when people say, ‘you know you know you know’. Or they start a sentence with ‘anyway’ or ‘whatever’ and end with ‘ah, well’."

"My favorite verbal habit," I add, "is when someone starts a statement with ‘I’m telling you the truth.’ When people say that, I’m convinced they’re lying. It’s like a poker player with a ‘tell’."

"Or," she says, "When someone says, ‘Let me make a long story short,’ and they don’t."

"You’ve done that on occasion."

"What?!" Her head whips around. "People will hate you soon, because you’re attacking me…" And then she moves on, "You know what I used to hate? When I was younger, people would constantly ask me, ‘how come a lovely girl like you isn’t married?’ To which I’d reply, ‘because I can’t get what I want, and I don’t want what I can get.’

"Or when I’d go for a job interview and be told, ‘you’re over qualified.’ One day I’d had it and I picked myself up, and said ‘if I’m over qualified, why don’t you raise your standards,’ and I walked out. The real reason they didn’t hire me, was they couldn’t pay me what I was worth, and they used that as an excuse."

"And that," I say, "gets me to the granddaddy of all my gripes, passive-aggressive behavior."

"What exactly is that?"

"It’s nasty and it’s everywhere. But for something to be passive-aggressive, it must contain two essential ingredients. You need a zinger; something that causes pain—like in your story, they didn’t hire you. And the second part is, you have to inflict the pain in a way where you can’t be blamed—like them telling you, ‘not our fault you’re, over qualified’. Passive-aggressive behavior drives people nuts. Like someone who pushes a full cart into the cash-only, ten-item-or-less line at the Big Y, and then pulls out a check. When you confront them, they act surprised, and say, ‘Oh, I didn’t see the sign. You don’t mind, do you?’ Well, yes I do, and if looks could kill you’d be toast. Or someone who pulls into the passing line, and proceeds to drive five miles under the speed limit.

"Passive-aggressive behavior is also a nasty way to get back at people who you’re scared of. So if you don’t like your boss, but can’t come out and say something, what better way to punish him than by calling out sick on the day he absolutely needs you to complete an important project, that if not completed on time, could get him fired."

"If that’s passive-aggressive," Lisa comments, "Then aren’t those voice-mail systems passive aggressive? They force you to wait, are extremely frustrating, yet it’s all done with a saccharin-sweet voice telling me how important my call is."

"Exactly, because they disavow any wrong doing, while making your life miserable."

"You know what else I hate?" she says. "People who give advice you haven’t asked for, especially when they don’t know what they’re talking about. Like horribly overweight people, who insist their diet is the best. Or when people offer fashion tips, I don’t want." She reaches over and picks up a vibrant violet boa, "I just knitted another;" she explains, "It’s eyelash fun fur. When I rejoin the red-head society, I intend to wear it. We all wear purple with red hats, it’s from the poem, When I’m an Old Woman I shall wear Purple...And you know what else I can’t stand? Loud people. Noise to me is the most offensive and inconsiderate intrusion."

"Agreed, it can create horrible stress, even lead to illness."

"There are people who are completely oblivious to how disturbing they are. It’s one of the reasons I came to live in Heritage Village; usually, it’s quite peaceful."

"So what have we missed?" I ask, knowing that Kvetch Day comes but once a year. "It’s now or never…And I think we’ve left out a few important ones, like people who make racial or sexist slurs."

"I have another," she says. "People who complain about how exhausted they are, and then proceed to tell you how many loads of laundry they’ve done, or how many stores they’ve been to, driving miles out of their way to use a two-dollar coupon, only to come home too tired to make dinner."

"You know, as I read this," I tell Lisa, as I experience a twinge of Kvetch Day guilt. "A couple sayings pop to mind, such as: ‘Let he who is without blame cast the first stone’, and ‘When you point a finger, three fingers point back.’"

"Well, you may be right, but you’re missing the big one, ‘People who live in glass houses…"

"…Shouldn’t throw stones," I say.

"No. That’s not what I say, she adds, "People who live in glass houses, should undress in the dark."

"What if they’re attractive?"

"Good point," she concedes, "but even so."

And having reached the end of our respective lists--as well as wandering shamelessly off topic--we give thanks to Curmudgeonus, and bid you our readers—a whiny Kvetch Day to all, and to all a good gripe.

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