Politely deadly
Movies have ruined polite conversation in this country. I don't mean that encroaching media has reduced public discourse to shouting and fandom. I mean to say that politeness is a frightening thing.
Sunday night, as I sat upon a couch with my lady love, enjoying something marginally less vapid than the majority of televised pablum, I received a text message on my iPhone. Seeing as it was about 9 PM, this was somewhat unusual, leading me to look at it just about as quickly as I would otherwise, which is to say I picked it up and looked.
It was a number I did not recognize. This happens, though it is rare. The message was somewhat more surprising, though, and I recreate it verbatim:
"Bitch wat r u doing?"
Now, I can accept the term "bitch" in common use, though I am neither a female dog nor a self-assertive female human being. I have in point of fact accepted "Bitch" as a pet name, when spoken by the right people. Used by someone whose number is not already stored in my iPhone, however, I would tend to think two things: either this is an idiot with a wrong number, or someone is playing a joke on me.
It is possible I do not recognize the number because I don't normally recognize people as strings of numbers. Phone numbers are not identifiers I easily recall. So, just in case, I respond thusly:
"As I do not recognize your number and thus don't know who you are, perhaps you should either tell me how I know you or check again just whom you've texted."
It took a few minutes to get a response, finally revealing that the other end of the chain was looking for someone named "Amanda." Again, I don't remember this being one of my monikers, so I replied that whomever I was speaking with had the wrong number, and that it had not changed in years. I advised this person to check the number again, and figured that would be the end of it.
However, there were two more responses coming, including:
"I'm sorry i hope u can take my apology i will not text this number again sorry!"
and when I said that was fine and to have a good evening, I received:
"You too! God bless you!"
Now, perhaps I am misreading the tone of the text. Perhaps being met with courtesy brought it out in my correspondent. I tend to read the responses with more of a subtext of, "Oh, hell, who've I pissed off here, Hannibal Lecter?" It would seem odd to go from referring to someone as "Bitch" and then straight into befuddled confusion. Perhaps I merely enjoy the ego flattery of thinking that polite erudition and proper speech are now considered signs of a potential serial killer or gentlemanly sociopath who doesn't care if you're screaming in agony so long as you say, "Please and thank you," when he allows you to pass out from the pain.
Still and all, I'm hard-pressed to think of kindly characters in media in the last decade or two who haven't turned out to be terrifying spectres of death in the final act. If that's the case, so be it. Courtesy was originally a form of daily diplomacy, anyway, engineered by society to try to prevent rampant violence in everyday life based on perceived slights to honor or station. If the masses want to let the pendulum swing this way again, it simply means that I might receive a simple "Thank you," when I hold a door for someone in passing. I won't plant a knife in the back of someone who fails in this common courtesy, but they don't need to know that, do they?
Have a lovely day.
Sunday night, as I sat upon a couch with my lady love, enjoying something marginally less vapid than the majority of televised pablum, I received a text message on my iPhone. Seeing as it was about 9 PM, this was somewhat unusual, leading me to look at it just about as quickly as I would otherwise, which is to say I picked it up and looked.
It was a number I did not recognize. This happens, though it is rare. The message was somewhat more surprising, though, and I recreate it verbatim:
"Bitch wat r u doing?"
Now, I can accept the term "bitch" in common use, though I am neither a female dog nor a self-assertive female human being. I have in point of fact accepted "Bitch" as a pet name, when spoken by the right people. Used by someone whose number is not already stored in my iPhone, however, I would tend to think two things: either this is an idiot with a wrong number, or someone is playing a joke on me.
It is possible I do not recognize the number because I don't normally recognize people as strings of numbers. Phone numbers are not identifiers I easily recall. So, just in case, I respond thusly:
"As I do not recognize your number and thus don't know who you are, perhaps you should either tell me how I know you or check again just whom you've texted."
It took a few minutes to get a response, finally revealing that the other end of the chain was looking for someone named "Amanda." Again, I don't remember this being one of my monikers, so I replied that whomever I was speaking with had the wrong number, and that it had not changed in years. I advised this person to check the number again, and figured that would be the end of it.
However, there were two more responses coming, including:
"I'm sorry i hope u can take my apology i will not text this number again sorry!"
and when I said that was fine and to have a good evening, I received:
"You too! God bless you!"
Now, perhaps I am misreading the tone of the text. Perhaps being met with courtesy brought it out in my correspondent. I tend to read the responses with more of a subtext of, "Oh, hell, who've I pissed off here, Hannibal Lecter?" It would seem odd to go from referring to someone as "Bitch" and then straight into befuddled confusion. Perhaps I merely enjoy the ego flattery of thinking that polite erudition and proper speech are now considered signs of a potential serial killer or gentlemanly sociopath who doesn't care if you're screaming in agony so long as you say, "Please and thank you," when he allows you to pass out from the pain.
Still and all, I'm hard-pressed to think of kindly characters in media in the last decade or two who haven't turned out to be terrifying spectres of death in the final act. If that's the case, so be it. Courtesy was originally a form of daily diplomacy, anyway, engineered by society to try to prevent rampant violence in everyday life based on perceived slights to honor or station. If the masses want to let the pendulum swing this way again, it simply means that I might receive a simple "Thank you," when I hold a door for someone in passing. I won't plant a knife in the back of someone who fails in this common courtesy, but they don't need to know that, do they?
Have a lovely day.