Why have I been mad, you ask? Well, mostly because people… suck. (And yeah, at this point, saying it again is sort of redundant, but whatever.)
You see, awhile back I got some hate mail. Just one letter, sent in the regular post, from Toronto. Now, seeing as how my writing is often fluffy, hate mail isn’t exactly something I’m used to. And anyway, this hate mail wasn’t about work. It was personal. Someone actually took the time to send me personal snail mail hate mail. Believe it. I only told a couple of people, in part because I was too mad, and in part because it was kind of embarrassing to think I’d made someone crazy enough to send me hate mail. (Of course, I’ve since clued in to the obvious fact that I shouldn’t really be embarrassed about being harassed by a bitter betty, but it took a few days.)
Anyway, the letter was pretty short. And if you’re wondering why I wasn’t frightened about it, I should explain that it wasn’t threatening, just obnoxious, and it was also sent fauxnonymously. Fauxnonymous is a word I’ve made up to describe something that is only ostensibly anonymous. (It’s more fun to make up words than it is to use sarcastic quotes, don’t you think?)
My point is that the jerk who sent me the stupid letter seemed to want me to know who it was from. He made it pretty clear. And, well… I got pretty mad.
Little Mr. Asshat’s intent was obviously to get a rise out of me, and it worked, because in the wake of the stupid letter I did the absolute worst thing I could have done. I responded. I actually sent back a similar message of my own, via the Internet (which is also fauxnonymous, as everyone of my age knows). My purpose was threefold - to show I got the message, to show I knew who the message was from, and to show the sender that they could just f-off and die for all I cared. I know. Stupid, right?
I blame technology. If I’d had to go through the trouble of sending real mail, by the time I’d gotten through sorting out the logistics and perfecting my handwriting, etc. I’d probably have cooled down enough to see that responding was not the best course of action. (Curse you, Internet. Curse you, I say!)
Anyway… it just made everything worse. It just extended the incident. The message I sent back was just as obnoxious, though less wordy, than the letter I received, but it was also dumb. It was dumb to let anyone make me that mad over something so lame. And ever since I replied, I’ve been waiting for what comes next, which is even dumber. I’ve been waiting for the loser to figure out I’d replied, and either get more angry and escalate his preteen style harassment, or explain what got his asshat knickers in such a twist to begin with. I actually let this bother me for weeks.
Well, no more. I did receive a response of sorts, finally, just this past week. And of course, it wasn’t remotely satisfying. It just made me madder, which again, was probably the point. And isn’t that always the way when it comes to interacting with jerks, particularly psycho jerks in need of therapy?
Blah. This is my one and only rant about the subject. I’ve gone cold turkey on the tit for tat thing, which is what I should have done in the first place. I guess I’m a slow learner. I’m always giving big fat jerks one more chance to shape up. It’s a weird thing I have – this desire to revisit bad stuff to make it good. In some cases, it just doesn’t work.
A few months ago, I made an agreement with my friend Sarah. We decided to apply a motto to the summer of 2006. That motto was No Mo’ Asshos. Obviously, I didn’t really take it to heart. So I’m extending it into the fall. Forget summer. As of right now, my/our new slogan/motto/whateveryouwannacallit is Autumn 2006: No Mo Asshos. (This time we’re serious!)
And friends, for the love of Pete and all that is holy moly, if I ever start softening on this particular jerk again, remind me. No mo, I say! This is it.