I’ve always had a cranky streak. In my twenties, a friend said, “I had the personality of a cranky old man.” Now that I turned 60, I decided not to deny — but embrace.
In that vein, here’s my list of the 15 things I don’t like, written with all the subtlety of Frank Costanza airing grievances during Festivus.
Telemarketers
They’re annoying. I’ll be writing, and the words are flowing onto the page when the phone rings. It’s some idiot trying to convince me to extend my car warranty or convert my home to solar. You ruined my flow. Now I’m going to torture you. On a good day, I can make a telemarketer cry.
Sitting In Traffic
I live in New York City, the area where Robert Moses is celebrated for building bridges and hundreds of miles of highways, parkways, and expressways.
However, this genius didn’t account for one thing — traffic.
Pick your poison; you can sit in weekend traffic on the Belt Parkway or in a parking lot on the Van Wyck or Cross Bronx Expressways all day.
Sitting in a bottleneck for 45 minutes, then realizing it was caused by cars slowing down to get a better look at the accident in the other lane. makes me want to rip my nose off with a can opener.
People Who Are Always Late
My dad was obsessed with punctuality; it’s ingrained in my DNA. Being on time was never good enough. It was better to arrive 15 minutes early. My brother and I have memories of arriving at banquet halls hours before the event and watching the waitstaff set up the room for the evening.
God showed me he has a sense of humor by surrounding me with people who are fashionably late for everything.
Dentists
I’ll admit it, the Dentist’s office is my kryptonite. My wife, who is a master of convincing me to do things I don’t want to do, has no luck with dental appointments. It’s not her fault. It goes back to childhood trauma.
Mom used to take my brother and me to an old-school tooth yanker. This guy graduated with honors from the Marquis de Sade School of Dentistry. Making matters worse was the shapely twenty-something dental hygienist who was always hovering around during root canals.
Okay, maybe I liked one thing about the dentist.
Beer Snobs
The only thing better than a cold beer on a hot day is two beers. Adding pizza only makes things better. In the 90s, microbreweries started dotting the landscape. Craft beers turned every beer-drinking hipster into a beer snob.
Suddenly, they’d recommend bizarro combinations that include oatmeal, wheat grass, or Rocky Mountain Oysters, like a sommelier at a four-star restaurant.
I’m not interested in Voo Doo Doughnut Maple Bacon Ale. I want a Stella or Heineken with my burger or rack of ribs. I don’t want some dude with a soul patch droning on about how the establishment’s IPA is too hoppy. Just bring me a cold beer and leave me alone.
Yard Signs
These are annoying. I’ll be on my morning run and spot several oversized stork cutouts in pink or blue in the neighbors’ front yard. Yay, you successfully reproduced.
Lately, things have gotten worse. Every Fall, during pumpkin-spiced everything season, come the signs for political candidates. As if I needed another reason to dislike you.
Covid made things worse. In 2020 and 2021, high school graduations were virtual. Around Memorial Day, every other house had a sign touting their child’s accomplishments for neighbors, mailmen, and the pizza delivery guy to see.
I’m a parent too. I can appreciate being proud of your child, but do it the old-fashioned way, by posting 200 pictures for me to ignore on your Facebook page.
Gender Reveal Parties
Hey, I heard you’re pregnant! Congratulations!
Two months later, I’ll be invited to a Gender Reveal Party.
WHY!!!
Can’t you just post it on Facebook?
Whether you got here via a surrogate, a drunken weekend in Vegas, or using a test tube and a turkey baster, I’m happy for you.
If you’re having a baby shower, do we really need another party to celebrate your impending parenthood?
Twenty years from now, you are going to wonder if it was worth all the time and effort when your child embraces gender fluidity.
Starbucks Coffee
I’ll pause for the collective gasp.
This is strictly about the coffee. I am a fan of the environment. Starbucks’ coffeehouse vibe is a great way to spend an afternoon reading a book, meeting a friend, or just people-watching.
It’s just that their coffee isn’t very good.
When I say coffee, I’m not talking about frappuccinos or lattes or any coffee-like beverage containing more sugar than coffee.
The actual coffee is not very good.
You spent millions of dollars creating an atmosphere people love. You should spend a few more on someone who knows how to roast coffee beans properly.
Repeating Myself — Again and Again
Those who know me call me chatty. They call me lots of things, but I’m sticking with chatty. While I’m not vocally challenged, I hate repeating myself.
My son is slowly learning about this specific pet peeve. Cristian, can you pick your toys up from the floor?
Nothing.
CRISTIAN, can you pick your toys up from the floor?
Crickets.
I’M NOT SAYING IT THREE TIMES…
Maybe it’s the tone of my voice or the bulging vein in my neck, but he’ll hop into action.
Yet, it took three times.
Fantasy Sports
I love baseball and football. I know enough about both that I could probably bore the shit out of a casual sports fan.
Who am I kidding with probably?
I’m a geek. I admit it. I put in the work, doing the reading and watching the pre- and post-game shows. I watch the NFL and MLB channels, and not just to gawk at Lauren Shehadi’s legs.
So why do I have to sit through segment after segment discussing how Patrick Mahomes’ slow start can affect your fantasy team. Guys are more invested in their fantasy teams than actual teams.
Let’s be honest, fantasy sports are just Dungeons and Dragons for wannabe jocks.
Texting Instead of Phone Calls
I know this runs counter to the collective sentiment, but I’m an old boomer.
Don’t get me wrong, I text. It’s a quick, convenient form of communication. My issue is when it stops being quick.
If you’re the type who enjoys rattling off long stream-of-consciousness texts resembling the first two chapters of a memoir, I’m going to call you.
It will save both of us from the inevitable carpal tunnel surgery.
Loud Phone Conversations in Public
For every rule, there is an exception. I like phone calls. I’m a fan of hearing someone’s voice on the other line. The tones and inflections of the human voice cannot be replicated in a text.
However, that doesn’t mean I want to hear someone else’s conversation. We all lead busy lives. If you are the type who drones on and on about the great guy you met, or that your test results came back negative, sitting on the subway or in an outdoor cafe, maybe you should text.
You know what I’m sayin’?
Asking For Advice, Then Ignoring It
Throughout my life, I’ve mentored, taught, and coached. I work as an academic advisor at a college, and students are constantly asking for my advice and opinions. It must be the white hair.
I’m a good listener and enjoy imparting words of wisdom. My issue is with the person asking for advice, again and again, then doing the opposite.
It’s Einstein’s Definition of an Idiot,
The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.
Super Bowl Parties
I’ve written about this before, but it bears repeating. I hate Super Bowl Parties. You can be surrounded by a group of shit-faced fans in a bar or at a house party with a group of douchy non-fans who leave when they run out of chicken wings and White Claw.
I just wanna watch the game. I don’t need three kinds of guacamole. I don’t care about the commercials or the halftime show. They usually suck. I know that puts me in the minority.
My friend Bill and I were the last two single guys in my group of friends. We’d split a six-pack, order pizza, and enjoy the game.
Then we got married.
Too Much Information on Facebook
If you made it this far, you know I like Facebook. I use it to communicate with distant relatives, reconnect with old friends, and post funny memes. Facebook and YouTube are my guilty pleasures. I spend way too much time on both when I should be writing.
The problem is that too many people think Facebook is some type of spiritual deity where one must share their most intimate thoughts and feelings. I hate to break it to you, but your day-to-day existence is boring.
Look, I’m not sharing pictures of my colonoscopy. Why do I need to know if you’re getting a mani-pedi or if you ordered the chicken wonton tacos at Applebee’s?