My friends scorn me; My eyes pour out tears to God. Job 16:20
Within the last 24 hours I’ve talked with three individuals in robot mode. To some of you that means dopers deliriously downing Doritos, but No, I don’t do that, and that’s not the case with these three. Each one, in fact, volunteered an after-the-fact, qualapolojexplanation (Yes! I just made that up!): One had been on a computer (way better than dope); the second didn’t feel good but wasn’t saying so (DARN that July 28 blog!); and the third was just cranky having missed coffee (I totally get that).
At any rate, I decided I don’t particularly care for being on the receiving end of robot mode. I can’t help but take it personally: What did I do? What’s the deal? Do you blame me? There I was, being my usual pleasant self (hehe)—and what do I get but a dead-pan expression. I try another angle; I get a bunch more o’ nothin.’ It’s like I’m begging for a morsel, but I’m too late; they gave at the office. Their objectivity is overdrawn; they’re fresh out of friendly; they’re tapped out of tenderness.
What’s a person supposed to do with that? One friend advised to reciprocate in kind (i.e. nothin’). For the two I tried that out on, it worked! The third individual was not so fortunate. [Open Mouth, Insert Foot.] It got a little sticky, but I elected to recover with some sincere encouragement, and all is well.
I’m trying to find my bottom line on this. While No Frills might be great for hamburgers, cars, or discount stores, I’m not sure I want that in a friend. At least take the advice from McDonald’s and “Put a smile on.” And if that’s not doable, how about, “I’m not feeling good; I think I’ll go read awhile.”
Next time somebody’s in my space, but they’re staring into space, maybe I should drag them, along with my kitty-cat, to the veterinarian: they could both use a distemper shot.