On May 5th, 2010, a group of bus passengers surprise their bus driver, Mukhtar, on his birthday. Filmed in Copenhagen.
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I am seriously upset at how people are beginning to lose any kind of etiquette when it comes to communication. Now I am not one to get angry at so-called “txt spk” even though I think it’s not too much to ask to spell out words and use proper punctuation. (Isn’t it a bit sad that you have to ask people to “use capitalization, paragraph breaks and punctuation” when submitting a story? When did this stop being normal in written communication?)
Errmm, uh….I actually needed to edit your submission due to lack of capitalizing of proper nouns, incorrect use of quotes and one misspelling.
However, what really annoys me is when people think social networking websites are an adequate substitute for a phone call, letter or card.
When I was pregnant with my first child two years ago, I went to great lengths to make sure my close family was told personally before it became “public knowledge” and people started talking about it on Facebook for example. We even flew out to another state just so we could tell my husband’s family in person and not over the phone. And we made sure that our families would not pass on our happy news to other relatives who would (rightfully) be a bit disappointed not to be told by us personally.
Today, I learned that my sister is getting married. Did she send a card? Did she call? Did she at least send an email? Maybe a mass email to all her family and friends? No. She put it in a ‘tweet’, a Twitter message that goes out to *everybody*. It’s a good thing I have a Twitter account or might not even know! Has this really become acceptable? Am I just too old-fashioned?
On the other hand, she also uses Twitter to discuss her various digestion problems, which in my book is not only bad manners but also disgusting - so maybe I shouldn’t be surprised. 0713-10
There is a folder in the Ehell forum called “Techno-quette” in which members discuss the intricacies and foibles of online etiquette. Worth reading!
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My Uncle Bubbles and his wife Candy have supplied us with a solid repertoire of E-Hell stories, but this one is my all-time favourite in terms of its sheer inappropriateness.
Uncle Bubbles fancies himself an amateur photographer, and he is able to afford a beautiful, professional grade camera through money he saved by never giving a nice gift to anyone, ever. But I digress. My dear grandfather, the family patriarch, passed away suddenly, and my rather large extended family was called home for the funeral proceedings. The aunts, uncles, and grandchildren all gathered at my grandma’s trailer to eat, drink and reminisce. And through our tears and laughter, Uncle Bubbles was there, behind his camera, taking pictures of us. Most of them were without our knowledge or consent.
I mentioned this to my mom, Uncle Bubble’s sister, who graciously suggested “This is his way of dealing with it.” So I left it alone.
The funeral was gut-wrenchingly sad. We had a bagpiper pipe his casket into the church, and to this day I can’t hear bagpipes without tears welling in my eyes. And that sad afternoon will be remembered forever, because my Uncle Bubbles stood at the altar during the entire service, taking pictures of the priest, the casket, and the congregation. I hope he noticed my evil death stare in at least three of them.
At the following Thanksgiving, Uncle Bubbles makes a long-winded toast that left my grandmother in tears, then announced that we are to help ourselves to the photo C.D.s he made of Grandpa’s funeral proceedings. At the end of the dinner, the stack remained untouched. I don’t know why he thought we would want to look at pictures of one of the saddest days of our lives, but he thinks differently than most. 0724-10
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A twofer story day! Story One…..
So Laura, who had been my friend for around 8 years, became engaged and asked me to be her “man of honor” — I’m male, and she wanted me in place of a maid of honor. I was incredibly honored and extremely happy. Well, that didn’t last very long.
At the time, I was a graduate student with a full-time assistantship; so basically, I was slave labor for my university. I was paid a pittance while I taught classes, did research duties, and was enrolled in classes. I made just enough money to live on and worked my butt off, because if I lost my assistantship, I couldn’t afford school. Also, it’s important to note that Laura and I literally lived on opposite sides of the country. But she assured me that despite our geographical locations and my heavy workload and financial situation, she would make this as easy for me as possible. We spent countless hours on the phone discussing the cake, the gown, the bridesmaids’ dresses, the groomsmen’s suits, decorations, food, and so on. This wasn’t enough for Laura. First, she threw a tantrum of epic proportions when I wouldn’t drop several hundred dollars for a plane ticket to come visit her and help plan in person. However, we worked past that and moved on.
Well, as the time for the wedding began to approach, I started making preparations. I talked to my supervisor and got permission to leave for a week to help with the wedding. I made arrangements for my class to be taken care of while I was away. Also, in preparation for my extended absence, my workload instantly doubled, as nearly all the work I was expected to do had to be done before the week of my absence. If you’ve ever been a grad student, you know what this is like — having a suddenly doubled workload is as close to hell as you can possibly get. Yet somehow, Laura managed to make the whole experience much, much worse. I was suddenly getting phone calls asking me to do this and do that, adding to my already heinous workload. When I asked if I could visit a friend of mine who lived in the area for a quick 2-hour lunch, she threw an enormous fit, involving crying and screaming and accusations of betrayal, because I had to be there for those specific two hours to help make centerpieces. When I reminded her of my day-to-day responsibilities at school, she responded by saying, “Well I’m a grad student too, and I’m still doing all this work!” Please note, she was unemployed BY CHOICE and taking ONE online class, and claimed that her workload was comparable to mine. I did everything I could to try to simultaneously fulfill my duties as her “man of honor” and my duties at school while trying to keep from going insane.
One day, a week before the wedding, while trying to take a quick nap before making lesson plans, as I had gotten nearly no sleep the previous night from trying to finish next week’s homework, I get a call from the groom who begins to accuse me of being a terrible friend. Apparently, Laura had flat out lied to him about some of the things that had transpired between us, and made a big show by sitting around the apartment, moping and crying. So he begins to belittle me and asks, “What kind of man of honor are you?” I was so upset that I hung up on him, as I was shaking so hard and nearing the point of hyperventilation. I realized that I would no longer be welcome at this wedding, and because I was so upset, my boyfriend called and told them we wouldn’t be attending. Neither Laura nor the groom responded with anger, but instead LAUGHED and began to make fun of us, and started to actually BRAG that their other friends were going bankrupt to be able to come to their wedding. I finally realized then what kind of people they had become.
That is the last that I’ve heard from either of them, and I hope that Laura’s special day was worth the sacrifice of a friendship. 0620-10
And Story Two…
I met Faye during elementary school through a mutual friend and we hit it off right away. Even after high school when I moved to a new city to go to university we stayed close, with lots of phone calls and visits. Soon she found an amazing guy who cared very much for her and around the time I moved back home he proposed. Unfortunately he came with some not so amazing family members.
I was really excited for my friend and was glad that I would be able to help out more now that we were in the same city. The excitement started to fizzle, however, when she invited me over to her and her fiance’s house to discuss plans. She brings up the topic of Maid of Honour and I (I admit) was pretty excited thinking she was going to ask me to be MoH. But no, well sort of, instead I find out she can’t decide between me and her Sister-in-Law, Erica.
She has only known Erica for less than a year at this point and during that entire time all I ever heard about her from Faye was how horrible and white trash she was. So I was a little confused. I suggested that if Erica is pushing to be MoH that maybe Faye should make her younger sister, Tammy, MoH. Faye says that’s no good because Tammy can’t afford to host a shower. Okay, then why is she talking to me about this? I can’t decide for her. Faye then tells me that she wants me to *fight* for the chance to be MoH! My mind is boggled and I tell her straight up no and that I’m pissed that she would ask such a thing. I end up leaving early not knowing what she’s decided and frankly not caring.
Later in the week I get a phone call from Faye telling me that since I don’t care either way she’s made Erica MoH, but I’m still a bridesmaid. Fine, I’m not playing into this. At least that’s what I told myself, but for the next couple of months Faye jumps back and forth from calling me at weird hours to bitch about Erica to cutting me out of get-togethers with the bridal party (sometimes she would call me at the last minute, but most of the time I didn’t find out until after.)
I was really hurt by her behaviour, but my Mom kept telling me to just let it go until after the wedding. (My friends on the other hand suggested telling Faye that she’s being rude.) I, in an act of utter doormattery, decide to suck it up until after the wedding.
For the most part everything seems to be going well, except that it seemed like it was more Erica’s wedding than Faye’s. When Faye was first planning we talked to a lot of vendors together and found some really great places that she could afford. But Erica didn’t think Faye needed to spend all that money and convinced her to go really, really cheap on most everything from cake to decorations. Further, Erica was the one who picked out the decorations, the flowers, the bridesmaids’ dresses, and even the cake! But it still came as a surprise to me when I find out, the day before the wedding, that Erica had convinced Faye to let her make the flower arrangements. Like all of them! From the bouquets to the boutonnieres to the centerpieces! She said all Faye had to do was buy the flowers in bulk. I should point out that Erica has no experience or training creating flower arrangements, but I do and both Faye and Erica know this.
I had a really uncomfortable feeling like I was about to be played so I tell Faye that I hope Erica doesn’t expect me to help her. Faye insists that Erica can handle it alone, except apparently she can’t. After the rehearsal Erica tells the bridal party to come over and help her with the arrangements. And the feeling grows. So we arrive at 6pm (the wedding is at 9am the next day) and Erica goes to watch TV. An hour goes by and she’s still watching TV despite the fact that we have asked her repeatedly to come up and tell us what to do. Another hour goes by and now Faye is frantic because she wants to go to sleep early, she begs Erica to get upstairs to start the flowers, but keeps getting told “in a minute”. She’s near tears and turns to me to help. Seeing as I’m not getting any sleep until this is done I step in and say I’ll make the flowers. I really didn’t know what else to do.
I do a sample boutonniere and have Tammy (the little sister) make the rest. I then make a sample bridesmaid bouquet and have Faye do the rest while I work on the bridal bouquet and the floral pieces for the church. All in all it takes about two and a half hours, but we actually had a good time and everything looked great. As we’re storing the flowers in the chilled garage Erica finally comes in and asks why we didn’t wait for her, I tell it’s because she watched TV for four damn hours. She shrugs and says, “Well at least they’re finished, though I think I could have done a better job,” and then gets ready to takes us back to Faye’s house.
The next day the wedding goes off without a hitch, everything great, except when it comes to the photos. At this point Erica decides that since I’m the only non-family member in the bridal party I only need to be in the big group shots with the whole wedding party. I object, but Faye says nothing and goes along with it. So I’m in none of the bridal party photos and I definitely didn’t get to take a bride and maid photo like the other two did.
Even worse, after the honeymoon Faye called me up so she could bitch about how Erica had left a huge mess in their house, had apparently stolen all the leftover wedding favours, and other various complaints about Erica in general. I never hear any thanks for pulling her butt out of the fire.
I never understood why my friend wanted a person whom she clearly hated to be her MoH, but I suspected that she was saying the same type of things to Erica about me.
My relationship with the bride never really recovered from this wedding. 0623-10
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