Society is a pretty odd entity when you think about it. We all do what we’re told, question little and act as accordingly as might an ill-education, but desperate, subservient Thai Bride. However, there are those amongst us that do anything but conform. These are the people amongst us that are causing issues in are already ruined nation. I’m not ribbing on here about Politicians, Bankers, Footballers, Celebrities etc., no. I’m talking about, well, you...possibly? Do you speak loudly in the cinema? Do you take up two seats on the bus? Do you take your time when at the till of a shop...carefully putting your change away? If so, then stop reading this article now. It’s not for you.
Ahhh, so you’ve kept reading – you must be quite the non-conformist! Okay then, but don’t say I didn’t warn you! This article is anti-the non-conformists. Yes, in my own way by writing this article, I am a non-conformist (don’t get smart), however, really and truly I am a hen pecked conformer.
I am one of the many sufferers out there with the condition “HASAD” – “Hyper Accute Self Awareness Disorder”, and right now, if you can’t relate, you’re thinking “HA! SAD!” But before you jibe, let me educate you about this condition, and how if effects us “HASAD” folk in our day-to-day lives.
Perhaps you aren’t even aware that you too are one of the many sufferers out there with such a condition. If you aren’t sure, here’s a few questions that will clear up such a query ;
1) Do you panic when you’re at the top of a queue and are packing your bags/putting your change away?
2) Do you keep your voice low when speaking on public transport and or in the cinema?
3) Do you hold doors open for people who don’t say thanks?
4) Do you stay patient when others cause havoc around you?
5) Do you tip in bars/restaurants when the service has been shite?
6) Do you spend on average fifteen or more minutes on your personal hygiene/appearance each day before you even contemplate leaving the house, yet have to walk amongst many of the great unwashed?
If you have answered yes to more than two of the questions above, you too are a fellow sufferer of the “HASAD” condition, but don’t fear, you aren’t the only one. There are many of us care-FUL individuals out there that have, ha, respect and courtesy for our fellow man and woman – the fools we are. It isn’t exactly an anxiety disorder, nor is it a form of medical condition that can be cured by medicine. Infact, there surely is no need for a cure. It’s not even a bad thing. You are one of the many perfect individuals out there made feel rushed and in the way on a daily basis, yet you aren’t the problem, dangnabit!
For instance, twice in the last few days I have felt increasingly lonely as a sufferer of this disorder, whereupon I have had to both stay quiet when others around me have disrupted me, and caused me to feel in the way, when I wasn’t upholding anyone. Yet, these are the trivialities of life we all face on a daily basis – but somehow, never challenged (down to the disorder, of course!).
I went to see “The Fighter” Thursday night – highly recommend it, great film – go see it! However, amongst my favourite public event setting (the cinema) there were many that were of a very DISsimilar disorder to “HASAD” - the “Aggravating Buoyant Spiteful Obstreperous Loud Ungracious Trivial Exacerbating Contemptuous Uncooperative Nervy Trenchant Syndrome” (or ABSOLUTE CUNTS, as they’re known better). Yes, the cinema appeared to be packed with them. A woman sat behind me, and unless she was with a sight impaired friend, she cannot be forgiven for giving a running commentary of what was happening onscreen. I mean, was she so unsure herself of what was going on and looking for assurance that Mark Walhberg was indeed playing a boxer and Christian Bale playing a drug addict? If this is the case, I feel mostly sorry for her, but clearly she was not of the mental age, nor calibre, to attend the cinema...or any social event involving other human beings.
Then, infront of me sat a fellow, obviously so busy, he really didn’t have time to be in the cinema as he was constantly updating his facebook tagline and exchanged emails. Perhaps he too was giving a running commentary of the film to someone he had at one stage intended to watch the film with, but in my estimation, this would suerely be a form of copyright infringement, right?
Finally, to my left sat a couple bickering as quietly as they could - obviously feeling their conversation was so personal that they didn’t dare risk having it in open view of others, so decided they needed a dark public location to resolve their relationship difficulties. Meanwhile, there I was, eating my Twix Fino (try one – a heavenly creation!) and sipping my honey laced smoothie as silently as I possibly could in between silences of the film so as not to impede anyone’s viewing pleasure, yet each crunch and slurp sounded so deafening to my own ears I expected I would be asked to leave the film. That’s how afraid I am of being told off infront of a large public collection...I possibly am just that pathetic!!!
This one encounter made me realise how overly “nice” and “considerate” I most certainly am, as “the public me” sat there and didn’t react submissively consuming my treats, whilst the “introverted me” contemplated what it would be like to light these people aflame only to extinguish the fire on their backs with a rather oversized shovel. I mean, it’d be okay to do that surely, them having, as childishly as this sounds - started it. A jail sentence would be surely worth it, and hopefully if the Judge were a fellow HASAD sufferer, he might even let me off with a minor slap on the wrists...
Then, Friday morning - I obsequiously queued the long queue that awaits each of us in our nation’s banks each Friday morning, as if the world were about to end and we must be financially cleared for it to happen. Finally, after some time pricking about on my ‘phone so as to avoid making eye contact with any fellow obedient waiting folk (you know, in case they want to talk about “the frustrations of queuing” as if it were only a new founded event), I walked up to the frowning/yawning teller, merrily handed over my withdrawal docket and I.D, and stood smiling like a mug, but felt it was necessary to let the serving teller know I bared no grudge for such an extensive wait to be served. Bearing in mind getting a withdrawal in a bank as easy as being served a Big Mac in McDonalds...it’s the bread and butter of the banking industry surely, and with solid funds in my account, I knew it should only take mere moments for this transaction to be over and done with. But, as what appears to be a consistent pattern in my life, this was not the case to be. The young girl behind the desk wrote a number on the back of my docket after fiddling away at her keyboard in an overly self important fashion, glanced moodily at me just once, and walked away from her post without a single word.
After being left stood unattended for fifteen minutes a sweat broke out on my forehead from being able to see the bickering, head shaking, pointing, taunting, aggressive and unsympathetic saps stood waiting to be served next in the reflection of the glass screen I was now subjected to standing in front of irrelevantly. Huffs and puffs came from behind that started off quiet but grew louder with each minute that passed. Then came the odd burst of frustration – “fuck sakkkkke!!”, and suddenly there were no more utterances said under breaths. These people wanted my blood for causing their wait to become something more than just a simple wait, well in their minds. Their patience running thin and my face becoming ruddy from embarrassment I contemplated leaving, only now I felt I would be lynched before I got to the door if I left without being served after such an over lengthy wait, like I was somehow working in conjunction with the teller to wind up the queue and hold them temporarily hostage in the confines of the building.
After what felt like an eternity, the teller came back, didn’t tell me what the issue was, and handed me my money – but suspiciously I’m fairly sure I could see remnants of a coffee stain on her top lip, and a fragmented crumb of a biscuit on her bottom lip. There was no apology from her. She simply didn’t care what she had subjected me to. But the customers reaction, I felt was unnecessary. With my hands shaking, I didn’t question her, but thankfully took my cash and ran out the door as might a man mistakenly excused from a life sentence.
This behaviour compared to us obsequious folk, I feel, is rather infuriating. Okay, in the bank they had a mob mentality situation so can be excused for being overly horrid towards me, but I wonder if there had only been one customer behind me would he have been so ruthless and blatantly rude? But that isn’t the issue here – the problem is that this is a cycle that cannot be broken. Us, HASAD suffers will never be able to stand up to the people who cause us to feel as if we are in the way, and as long as we stay timid and meek, ABSOLUTE CUNTS will always make our daily lives that little bit more infuriating.
basically passive aggression no?? This is about me and not you, you realise this?? I hate eating popcorn in the cinema, the crunch is sooo loud and I always leave the bottom of the drink so I don't slurp!
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