Is It Just Me?: Or is it Nuts Out There? (4 page)
I don’t want anyone killing me with their car. Is that too much to ask? No, it’s not. Then why are so many people trying to send me to my early reward with their vehicles? Truly. I can’t believe some of the stunts I see pulled out there on the road. I have to say the worst behavior you see from people is when they get a steering wheel in their hands. To the point that I believe that your car is like a brain scan of your personality.
If you are a polite person or just a normal, considerate, going-along-and-along-in-life person, that’s pretty evident. You get a smile and a nod from me at the next stoplight.
If you are easily distracted, clumsy, or kind of off in the ozone, we’re going to see that too. Please try to keep it off the sidewalk.
And if you are a jackass? Well, trust me, we know. We all know. And the way you carry on, we get plenty of opportunities to confirm that.
Do you think that when you get inside your car and close the door you become magically invisible? You do not. Not even with those tinted windows you think look so cool. We can see you. And it ain’t pretty.
Some folks will surprise you when you see what they pull on the highway. These are the people who may not show signs of aggression or rudeness or risky behavior sitting in the break room with you at work, or selling you a nice pair of shoes at the department store. But don’t be fooled. It doesn’t mean that it’s not part of their personality. Like that famous cartoon folks saw in driver’s ed. It’s where good ol’ Goofy gets behind the wheel and suddenly becomes Satan. That’s what happens to some people. Folks turn on that ignition, and suddenly, Satan rules.
What makes that happen? Maybe somebody chewed them out just before they left the factory, or they learned in the parking lot that some dude from the marketing department got the promotion they wanted. Or their girlfriend cheated on them. Or their boyfriend refuses to ask his best bud from college to find a motel for the weekend so they can have some alone time.
Or. Or. Or.
Does it matter what reason people have to be misbehaving behind the wheel? Hell, no. Screw the reason, all I care about is how they drive. And if you are a person who acts out with bad behavior behind the wheel, I have a message for you.
If you speed through a school zone, I have a message for you.
If you park in handicapped spaces, I have a message for you.
If you weave through cars on the interstate like it was your personal slalom, I have a message for you.
If you zip into a parking spot that somebody else has been patiently waiting for, I have a message for you.
If you run lights, or bust a crosswalk with people in it, I have a message for you.
If other, more reasonable people obey the law and common sense and pull to the right to let a fire truck or an ambulance pass, and you use that opportunity to pass them all because you think you’re so special that doesn’t apply to you, I have a message for you.
If you tailgate, practice road rage, live on your horn, pollute with your smoky tailpipe, blind people with your high beams, dent somebody’s fender and drive off, throw litter out the car window, drink, text, or watch videos on your cell phone while you should be driving, I have a message for you.
You’re looking at it.
Have you ever parked illegally in a Handicapped Only space?
If yes, score 5
If no, score 0
Did you care that you did?
If yes, score 1
If no, score 5
Is it bothering you that you did?
If yes, score 1
If no, score 5
Is it possible that you prevented someone who needed it from using it?
If yes, score 5
If no, score 5
Did you care?
If yes, score 1
If no, score 5
Would it piss you off if they did it to you?
If yes, score 2
If no, score 5
Total score: ______
Tally your score and write it in on the Master Score Sheet at the back of this book, page 195.
Unless you’re looking to get pregnant, let’s talk about common sense.
This behavior is not about etiquette. It’s about life-death behavior.
Unless you’re looking to get pregnant, or you’re looking to catch whatever somebody might have caught that you don’t know about—“Put the condom on” should be the first thing out of your mouth. This is not a conversation. There is no debate. If you do not want to get pregnant, the man needs to wear a condom, it’s that simple.
Or
you don’t need to have sex.
It’s not a
maybe I should
, or
maybe I shouldn’t
. It’s very simple. There are things out there that can kill you. If you have this partner and you don’t know anything about him, don’t do him unless he is wearing a condom, period.
Duh!
And I don’t see why it’s hard to say, “Stop. I need the condom because I don’t want to raise your kids.”
And guys, don’t be an ass. You should not only wear the condom—invest in the company!
DO NOT
make your partner feel bad for asking you to wear it again and again. Or hear you whine that it doesn’t feel natural, blah-blah-blah. Both of you say, “OK. We’ll find another kind.” But you’re wearing one. Period.
Not wearing one makes no sense to me.
The condom should be part of the ritual. Learn how to put one on him. But you cannot go bare skin to bare skin anymore.
The world has changed. Period. Period, period, period. And I don’t care whether you’re concerned that your daughter’s going to have sex if you start talking to her about using condoms. She may have sex, but you need to help her protect herself.
Have the conversation.
Chapter 12
If You Don’t Want to Hear the Answer, Don’t Ask the Question
Everybody knows nobody likes to be criticized. Because sometimes, depending on who’s doing it, it feels like an attack.
But the only thing worse than getting criticized is someone asking for your opinion about something and they give you hell . . . and you end up with your head handed to you. Now that’s bad manners. And bad behavior.
People say they want your honest opinion. But do they? Or do they just want to hear the good stuff?
There was a great article recently by a screenwriter named Josh Olson. It ran in the
Village Voice
. The man was absolutely right. It was called “No I Won’t Read Your Fucking Script.” Brilliant!
It was an opinion piece about how aspiring screenwriters ask him to read their sample scripts and get his comments. Josh Olson is a respected professional. And the man knows his craft. Anyway, this article he wrote is sort of an open letter to the amateur writers out there who are always trying to get someone’s critique. These folks usually hit you up at cocktail parties, or when you’re leaving the restaurant . . . or the hospital. Or when you are trying to forget about work for an hour. Here’s just a taste of what he wrote in the
Voice
:
. . . I simply have no interest in reading your fucking screenplay. None whatsoever. If that seems unfair, I’ll make you a deal.
In return for you not asking me to read your fucking script, I will not ask you to wash my fucking car, or take my fucking picture, or represent me in fucking court, or take out my fucking gall bladder, or whatever the fuck it is that you do for a living.
And that’s just the beginning.
The point he makes is that it’s pretty much a no-win situation to give somebody advice about
anything
they have created or performed. People ask me to read scripts all the time, and I just don’t do it. I won’t do it.
But why, Whoop . . . ?
Here’s why.
Bo-Be-Boo sends me a script to read, and I read it, and I say, “No, it’s not for me.” Now. Say someone has the same idea, decides to make it, and thinks of me to be in it. Bo-Be-Boo decides to sue me because I’m now accused of stealing that idea and I have to prove that I didn’t. A mess? Yes! But . . . if I don’t read the script—I mean I don’t even open the envelope—there is no issue.
Sometimes people say, come hear me sing. I say, “You know I’m antisocial. I don’t go out.” People who know me know that I am antisocial, so they stop asking. And then if I show up, they say, “Wow! OK . . .”
But, if I come, please don’t ask me how you sound. ’Cause I won’t tell you. Come on!!! People don’t really want to know. I know from too much experience that even if I say they sound great, they’re going to say, “No, really, tell me, how did I sound?” and I say, “You sounded great.” And they go, “But . . . ?”
That’s when I’m sorry . . . sorry I was ever asked the question. Even sorrier I ever went. I say to myself, “You know what? Now it’s too technical. Now you want to know too much. Now . . . where is my coat?”
Sometimes all folks want is a pat on the back. Other times, people just want to know that they did OK. Most times, they’re leading you out into a minefield. I don’t take that walk. No way. I try to stay on neutral ground. And my favorite word . . . is “swell.” Because nobody’s sure what it means. “That was . . . swell.”
Gah!!
There’s another thing going on here. The
real
point is that someone isn’t just asking me to read their script. Or to hear them sing. Or to stare at their paintings. They’re asking me to tell them something that only
they
should make a decision about. Do they really need my opinion? Not really. They know if they can do this or they can’t. My telling them that they can do it doesn’t mean anything.
And that is why God created “swell.” Thank you, God!
Also, if somebody does take the time and effort to read your work or come see you perform . . . it’s a favor. And if you ask them to call on their expertise and give you their perspective . . . whether it’s good or bad . . . your only response should be “Thank you.” Even if you disagree and want to have a discussion after, I don’t care. Your first two words? “Thank you.”
You asked for it . . . and they gave it to you. If you’re angry or embarrassed, deal with it. Do not fire back at this person. People do it. That happens. A lot. And it is the worst manners in the world. Why would you do that? This person is already in a tough position . . . And know what? It’s one you put him in because you asked for this favor.
One of the best criticisms I ever got was from Mike Nichols. While I was running through my one-woman show before we opened on Broadway, he cleared his throat—as only he can do—and he said, “Um, Miss Goldberg . . .” And I said, “Yes, yes, Mr. Nichols?” And he said, “Is there an end to this story? You’re just meandering.” I said, “. . . Well, yes, there is an end to this story.” And he said, “Yes, and you passed it. And so, obviously, you weren’t listening to what you were saying because you would have heard the end of your story.”
And he was right. I had gotten where I needed to go, and then I was meandering. He was saying pay attention. And I was paying attention to him. That’s Mike Nichols. He’s like those old E. F. Hutton commercials. When he speaks, actors listen.
But it’s really about you paying attention to yourself too, and listening. And being honest with yourself. I try to be. I’m not always. I refuse to believe that I’m not six two. I can tell myself I’m five four all I want to, I don’t believe it.
Chapter 13
A Civil Person’s Handy List: Things to Tell People Who Put You on the Spot
We all get stuck in that awkward place. You get boxed into sitting through a friend’s recital, or their improv showcase, or after dinner they drag you into the basement to look at their artwork, which turns out to be sixty oil paintings of toreadors on black velvet.
“Well? What do you think? And be honest.”
No! Once more. No! What you do is tell them what they want to hear by letting them hear what they think they are hearing. Meaning? Stay on the fence.
Keep these handy neutral answers in your head and save everybody’s night. And feelings. Here’s what you can say:
• “Wow . . .”
• “Swell.”
• “You did it again.”
• “It’s all you.”
• “It’s got you all over it.”
• “How do you do it?”
• “You must be so proud of yourself.”
• “I couldn’t do that.”
• “Nobody but you, nobody but you.”
• “I think you found yourself.”
• “Somebody’s been working.”
• “I’ve never seen/heard anything like this.”
• “I am speechless.”
None of these is really a lie, now, is it? Especially not this one:
• “Know what? I am going to be remembering this moment for a long time.”
What do you think of my list? And be honest . . .