Tuesday, July 18, 2000
They're mad as ...
Readers write about what really pushes their buttons
Where's your beef?
The Enquirer asked, and readers answered, sharing their prime gripes and pet peeves.
Lisa Sullivan has a little problem with service at fast-food drive-throughs.
(Joseph Fuqua II photo)
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Whether it's Cincinnati's heat and humidity, surviving recycled summer TV or refereeing fights over who controls the car radio, our brave correspondents zeroed right in on the particular glitch that jumps on their last nerve and stomps it into the ground.
The treachery of professional baseball, frizzy hair, downtown parking and rude motorists all made the list of Cincinnatians' pet peeves.
Read on, and repeat after us: Venting is good. Venting is good. Venting is good.
Want fries with that?
Summer is supposed to be fun — just kickback and relax. Don't labor over a hot stove, just relax. The scene looks all too familiar ... “What's for dinner, Mom?” So I decide to go to the drive-thru. We jump in the car, anticipating our speedy attempt at dinner. We pull up to the drive-thru and place our order.
I have perfected the art of speaking slowly into the microphone. It never fails - they repeat the order incorrectly back to me.
Again, I slowly repeat the order. I wonder if the cashier realizes I just want to drive-thru without hearing the words, “You need to pull over and wait.” All I can think is please, please let my order be correct.
I forgive her rudeness and lack of eye contact as she passes me my fast food.
“May I please have some horseradish sauce?” I ask. She tosses me a handful of ketchup. I glance down at the ketchup, then turn and look at the crew in my car. The children suddenly become quiet. They've seen that look on Mom's face before. They begin sinking into their seats — hoping, praying that nobody at the drive-thru recognizes them.
I've had a long day. I hurl the ketchup back through the drive-thru window. As the packets sail pass the cashier's head, she turns around and looks at me like I'm crazy. I ask again, “May I please have some horseradish sauce?” She hands me my sauce and then, ever so gently, closes the window in my face.
Truly, I only wanted to kickback and relax. Ah, yes ... the drive-thru.
— Lisa Sullivan, 39, Anderson Township
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Counting down pet peeves
Some possible Cincinnati summer activities for family fun.
1. Take a three-day trip to the Kentucky Speedway.
2. Go to Paramount's Kings Island and watch them service the Son of Beast.
3. Buy gas in Lawrenceburg so you can spend the savings at the Argosy.
4. Apply for that second mortgage for Bengals tickets.
5. Look for a parking spot in Cincinnati.
6. Look up and see if you can spot the golden parachutes given to Nordstrom officials by the Queen City.
7. Donate a bucket of darker ink to each of the city's newspapers.
8. Teach your children simple math by having them compute Reds batting averages.
9. Take a Seagram's tour before it's too late.
10. Try to remember the names of local news anchors.
- George Ellerman, 53, Covedale
Tuning in trouble on car radio
I'll tap my toes to anything from country to classical. It's not unusual for me to be singing along off-key with Luciano Pavarotti while driving my car. This behavior, of course, draws a lot of eye-rolling from my teen-age twin daughters in the back seat.
The girls used to allow me to feed my artistic inner child with opera and symphonies when they were younger. But now they've developed their own musical likes and dislikes.
Unfortunately, one is country; the other rock.
We hop in the car to go somewhere and barely have our seat belts on when the battle over the (radio) buttons starts. I've tried to develop some sort of rotation schedule whereby each of us gets so many minutes worth of listening to her favorite station. That didn't work. While the rockster is being satisfied, the country girl talks loud and nonstop in order to drown out the music, and then turnabout is fair play for her sister.
When a full-blown fight has erupted behind me, I put Plan B into action. I plug in an opera tape, one with lots of arias.
That's right. The fight isn't over til the fat lady sings.
— Gail Chastang, 49, Florence
Signaling annoyance with rude drivers
Finally, the perfect venue to express my overwhelming anger toward “lane-ending drivers.” For those of you needing clarification, I'm referring to those drivers who refuse to acknowledge that a lane is ending, and insist on driving in that lane as long as possible. They then force some sympathetic, arrow-abiding driver to let them in, thus even further delaying the line of other sign-abiding drivers.
Writing this article has made me realize that my anger is misplaced. I'm actually angry with those sympathetic drivers (translate that to mean fools) who allow these line-jumpers to cut into line. These line-jumpers must not be rewarded. Do not delay to accommodate the “flashing-arrow ignorers.”
May this article serve as a call for sign-abiding drivers to unite. Stay close to the bumper in front of you (but not too close). If you feel sorry for these rude line-jumpers, do not establish eye contact! Those of you with stronger resolve may use this opportunity to give the line-jumpers a smile and wave. At any rate, the rest of us will be getting home more quickly and with a lot less aggravation.
— Gina DeBlasio, 30, Hyde Park
Men are on Mars women are on tee
I'm a golf fanatic. Since I retired in 1997, I've probably played 200 rounds. My husband and I play any day, any time, any month of the year.
So what would I be “peeving” about?
Ladies, the golf course is the final bastion for male chauvinism. It will be our Armageddon.
It begins in the clubhouse. Men mill around, appearing to have all the time in the world. Women walk in. Immediately, the men rush to the counter to pay first.
The macho behavior appears next. First loud cursing, then noisy conversations, finally the beeping of cell phones. They must play the championship tees, even if they can't drive past the women's tees. Some wait for the group in front to finish a par 5 before teeing off.
“Thou shalt not allow women to play through,” is their commandment. I've been behind foursomes who would not allow two women to play through, making us wait 20 minutes on each tee.
The cause? It's simply male ego. One afternoon, my husband and I were joined by a highly competitive single. After eleven holes, he asked my husband which of the two of them was winning. My husband said, “Judy has us both by two strokes.” At that point, the single slammed his club in his bag, walked to his car and drove off.
They're afraid we'll beat them. And that, ladies, makes it all worthwhile.
— Judy Kuhn, 54, Pleasant Run Farms
The early bird gets wormed
Being an early bird is supposed to be a good thing, right?
Why then, if you arrive early at a major sporting event, do the parking people direct you to the farthest corner? This may be a coincidence, but the latecomer seems to get the best parking place and ... the early bird gets wormed.
Weddings? Women arrive early at the church to get an aisle seat so they can see the bride up close as she walks down the aisle. As the processional begins, the late comers are hurriedly escorted to your row, and the usher leans over and whispers, “Would you mind moving over, please?” You are now in a middle seat, the latecomers are sitting on the aisle, and ... the early bird gets wormed.
There is a solution. Simply reverse the process. Put the latecomers in the far corners of the parking lot and the stragglers in the worst seats of the church. It doesn't cost anything to make that change.
Give us back our American values. Long live the wise motto, “The early bird gets the worm.”
— Sandy Coffing, 60, Liberty Township
Too many valedictorians lower school standards
Did you know that some high schools in our area had dozens of valedictorians for their graduations this year?
Dozens!
Being the best student in your school was once a great honor. Like so many things these days, however, standards have gone way down. Oh sure, just being in a group of the top dozen is
quite an accomplishment, but that's not the point.
Asked why more valedictorians, school officials would mention that modern students are more competitive, or more aware of how important grades are, or that technology has improved study techniques. They would also point out that they were being more inclusive these days by honoring more students.
Baloney! Trust me. I know about these things. I've been there. The real reason is grades inflated to the point that an “A” doesn't represent what it did a generation ago. Let's face it. If standards were where they should be, no one would be able to get through four years of high school with a perfect record. Standards must challenge everybody, including a genius.
Today it's possible for dozens of students to produce perfect records at some schools. Applause for the students. Shame on those particular schools.
— Dick Ross, 54, Bellbrook
Top 10 summer gripes
1. I'm tired of breaking up the kids' fights.
2. The dog, who dearly loves to be outdoors, appears to be allergic to grass, and he's about to scratch himself bald.
3. The mold count has been hovering around 50 billion.
4. The constant hum of our air conditioner has boosted the electric bill into the panic range.
5. I spend more at church festivals than I win.
6. The entire common house fly population of Boone County is residing in my home.
7. It would be nice to have a picnic without being swarmed by bees.
8. The ice cream man's van arrives in front of the house at the precise moment the children sit down to dinner.
9. When answering the phone at work, the first thing to reach my ear is, “Mommy, guess what she did now...”
10. When I get home from work in the evening, I have to guess what the sticky stuff is all over my kitchen floor.
-- Gail Chastang, 49, Florence
Tuning out summer TV
Let's see, what irritates me most about summer? TV. The reruns. The so-called “Summer Movie Specials” that show the same movie they showed last week.
It's enough to drive a person coconuts!
The kids channels show many varieties of shows. During the morning, they seem almost entertaining. But during the afternoon, when you get to watching the same shows and same episodes a second time, you want to hit Big Bird over the head with a stick. Oh, I forgot. We can't do that. The stick will have a “personality.”
When it comes to the major channels, you come to look forward to the entertaining evening comedies. But when you turn on your TV, prepare to be dismayed.
You'll find they've canceled the program for a boring, pointless new show. Then you find yourself watching Gilligan's Island on Nick at Nite. Why didn't the Professor fix the boat so they could all leave?
So, can you see why summerirritates me? Take my reasoning in mind and throw the TV out the window.
— Erin Fenton, 13, West Chester
Summer makes sticky situation
My peeve is the humidity. I wouldn't mind if there weren't any summer.
Sometimes, when I'm cool, I feel guilty for those thoughts, because we do need to grow crops for food to eat. At the drop of a hat, though, I don't just perspire, I sweat like a dock worker. For a woman, that's just embarrassing.
Let's not forget getting dressed. I hate the way clothes stick and grab when I put them on in humid weather. They seem to have a mind of their own, and that's to be as ornery as possible. Ladies, let's not even talk putting on pantyhose in summer, or watching our make-up begin to run before we're even done.
Recently, I mentioned to friends that I probably wouldn't mind living in Alaska, and my husband said, “Maybe so, but without me.” Everyone laughed, but I can tell you, if he goes anyplace else that has higher humidity than here, he's going alone. No retiring to Florida for us.
- Nikki N. Griffin, 56, Greenhills
Ugly sounds of summer
I love nothing more than dining outdoors on a fine summer day. And nothing wrecks my outdoor meals more than the noise pollution of summer. The worst offender ... the lawn crews with gravely mowers and turbo-sounding leaf blowers whipping through the neighborhood, all tanned and oblivious to the incessant noise they make.
Then there are the guys who make lawn care a daily competition. How often does your yard really need to be mowed, edged, weed-whacked, and blown anyway? When did all this lawn maintenance become so vogue? When I was a kid, all I remember my dad doing was mowing and a little sweeping. Now you never see anyone sweeping, or even using a rake. Noisy machines now do it all.
There is nothing like a meal outside on a beautiful summer day. It makes the food taste better, and it improves my whole mood. But the ambiance isn't there when I have to shout to be heard over the noises of mowers, edgers, blowers and whackers. I long for the peace and quiet of days gone by, when sitting outdoors meant hearing the birds singing, the crickets chirping, the distant music of the ice-cream truck. And, sometimes, complete silence.
- Lynn Curtis Thomas, 39, Middletown
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GET TO IT
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