Y'all Come Sit a Spell

Come sit a spell.

We need to talk about pet peeves.

Not the important things.

There are plenty of genuinely terrible things happening in the world, and I am capable of having proportionate, adult reactions to those.

This is not about those things.

This is about the tiny, relatively harmless behaviors that cause an entirely disproportionate reaction somewhere deep within my soul.

I know they’re petty.

I know nobody is actually being harmed.

I know I should probably just let them go.

I will not.

Let’s begin with teeth on utensils.

Why?

Why are your teeth involved?

The fork has completed its assignment.

It successfully transported the food from the plate to your mouth.

At this point, the fork’s work is done.

Close your lips.

Remove the fork.

There is absolutely no reason for your teeth to scrape down the tines on its way out.

SCRRRRAPE.

I felt that in my spine just typing it.

I don’t know what evolutionary response this activates in me, but it is immediate and profound.

Every muscle in my body tightens.

My shoulders rise.

My teeth hurt in sympathy.

Some primitive part of my brain begins evaluating exits.

And the person doing it?

Completely unbothered.

Just sitting there.

Eating.

Possibly preparing to do it again.

I am watching the fork now.

I cannot participate in the conversation because all available resources have been redirected to fork surveillance.

Please don’t.

Please don’t.

Please don’t.

SCRRRRAPE.

I have to leave.

Which brings us naturally to slurping.

Soup.

Coffee.

Noodles.

I don’t care what we’re consuming.

Unless the food is actively attempting to escape your mouth, I see no reason suction should be involved.

There are cultures where slurping is completely normal and even appreciative.

I understand this intellectually.

I respect cultural differences.

I also know that if I am sitting beside you while you repeatedly SHHHHLLLLURP something into your mouth, I may need to excuse myself before international relations deteriorate.

This is my issue.

I accept that.

But I cannot fix it.

Then we arrive at one of the great technological scourges of modern civilization:

The person using a phone in public without headphones.

Oh, Lacey.

Come here.

We need to talk.

I don’t know Lacey.

There may not even be a Lacey.

But somewhere, right now, a Lacey is sitting in a waiting room having a full-volume conversation with her BFF.

And now we’re all in it.

We know where she went Friday night.

We know what Trevor said.

We know what she said Trevor said.

We know what her mother thinks about Trevor.

We know Trevor’s ex has apparently been “doing too much.”

I didn’t ask for this.

None of us asked for this.

Yet here we sit, involuntary members of Lacey’s inner circle.

And speakerphone somehow makes it worse.

Because now I don’t just know Lacey’s business.

I know Brittany’s business, too.

Brittany sounds tired.

Frankly, I don’t blame her.

Then there are videos.

TikTok.

YouTube.

Reels.

Whatever we’re watching today.

At full volume.

In public.

Without headphones.

Why?

Headphones exist.

Earbuds exist.

Some of them cost less than the coffee you’re currently drinking.

Yet apparently twelve people sitting in an airport gate should all listen to a forty-seven-second video of a man shouting about a life hack involving aluminum foil.

And because the algorithm has apparently decided that one wasn’t enough, we’re going to hear another.

And another.

And another.

I don’t even know what you’re watching.

All I hear is:

“OH MY GOD YOU GUYS—”

Swipe.

Music.

Swipe.

Someone screaming.

Swipe.

“HERE ARE FIVE THINGS—”

Please.

I am begging you.

There was once a social contract.

We all understood that being in public meant making tiny accommodations for the fact that other humans were also occupying the space.

You didn’t need to become invisible.

You could talk.

You could laugh.

You could exist at full human size.

You just maintained a vague awareness that nobody else had agreed to participate in your personal audio experience.

Somewhere along the way, we lost that.

Now everyone’s phone is a tiny portable television, radio station, movie theater and conference room, and apparently the rest of us have been automatically subscribed.

No.

I would like to unsubscribe.

Immediately.

And here’s the thing about pet peeves.

I don’t actually think people who scrape forks across their teeth are bad people.

I’m sure some of them volunteer.

They probably remember birthdays.

They may be excellent tippers.

Lacey could be delightful.

She may rescue senior dogs and make an outstanding pound cake.

I don’t wish any of these people harm.

I simply wish them silence.

Beautiful, glorious silence.

Eat your soup quietly.

Remove the fork without involving your incisors.

Put in your earbuds.

Text Brittany.

Please.

Because I am trying very hard to be a reasonable person.

And you are making noises.