Saturday, November 28, 2015
Day 11.242 Somewhere Else
One would think that as a former softball umpire, journalist, sub-contractor for the Department of Defense and Marketing Director, that I, by now, would be immune to comments that do not perfectly fit into my idea of 'positive'.
But they kill me. Intentional or otherwise. I die a thousand slow and painful deaths with every insensitive, uncaring, off-target, off-the-cuff, crass, callas or uncalled for comment.
My Mom told me one time that if I had nothing nice to say about someone, then don't say anything at all. That used to be fairly easy, but now in the age of tweets, texts and instant messaging about everything, we lose the art of the delivery. Non vis-a-vis and conveniently anonymous. Thank God for emotions and emojis, eh?
Like the fine art of the Italian slam that opens. 'with all due respect.' Right.
This is totally my fault. If I was better at my job perhaps they would stop sending insults and send flowers.
But I am not. As much as I try to improve, to gain a better, or cleaner, perspective I feel like I continue to trot innocently into the same ambush day after day.
Worse, I am out-manned, out-gunned, and in a compromised logistical position. They have elevation as I scurry for cover.
I would ask, naturally then, why do you do this?
Why not direct all that angst, anger, fear and negative drama in a direction that will come back to help, not haunt you?
I am not the bad guy.
If I have truly pissed you off and you feel the need to retaliate, defend or argue for your limitations, let's set up a time and place and talk. You don't need to slander the pure or libel the wholesome standing upon an on-line soapbox.
It is hard enough.
Let's make it better, not worse.
Mom was right.
Say what you like.