Tuesday, January 21, 2014


                                   


                                                      CONVERSATION BULLIES


     I have tried, unsuccessfully, to address my greatest pet peeve: conversation bullies.
It is difficult to address this topic, as some of these people are actually acquaintances of mine. Heaven forbid that I may be guilty of such behavior myself (pas possible!), but if I am, someone needs to take me out (and not for dinner).

     These CBs fall into three categories:

                         The Dominant Diva/Dude
                       The Heinous Hijacker
                       The Me Machine

     The Dominant Diva/Dude is probably the worst offender. This person believes the world revolves around him/her and his interests. He or she talks constantly, never allowing a reaction much less a response. I swear by the end of the 20-40-minute-monologue, you’d think they’d need some Biotene dry mouth spray, or preferably an oxygen tank. My amateur psychological analysis is they are either nervous, needy or just plain stupid. If anyone ever taught them manners and sensitivity, they forgot them in second grade. These people are fearful that no one will notice them. Perhaps the most annoying part of their monologue is the incessant irrelevant minutiae that allows listeners to chant silently to the Dali Lama. WTF?

     The Heinous Hijacker is slightly more polite in that he or she will listen just long enough to hijack the conversation--usually just at the moment when everyone present is engaged. These people have no patience for anyone who speaks more than 23 seconds, so they piggy-back on the topic and turn it to their own experiences. Some change the subject completely which makes their crime blatant and rude. They need to watch out, however, for the ME Machine sitting next to them.

     The ME people are so narcisisstic that the room could be empty, and they would still be bragging about their three-year-old’s poop. The amusing thing about them is that they love to talk about narcisstic people--they can’t even pronounce their label, much less spell it, yet they will bitch about it till the Pope smokes weed. These people will bore you with their entire life story, including every date they ever had, how many As they got in seventh grade and what their best times were on the swim team in 1963. They will divulge personal details about themselves that make you want to take their asparagus spears and stuff them up their noses. They never learned how to listen or to spell HUMILITY, and they will complain about how selfish the world has become. I don’t get it.

     Now you may think these traits are more prevalent in women than men. Not true. The propensity may be more feminine, but I am here to tell you that I’ve had to excuse myself and rush to the powder room just to escape men who think I want to know how the earth was formed or how to hit an overhead. #:( 

      All of this begs the question:  Why does it irritate me so much? because my parents taught me the wrong values, and I am paying the price. I was taught humility, polite conversation, interest in others and conversation means more than one person. What was wrong with them? And Mr. Wonderful wonders why I’d rather text or tweet than play “Get-in-a-syllable-before-it’s-too-late.”