When called for, I can be extremely, painstakingly, patient. But the one thing that gets me every time – that final straw that shatters my titanium-alloyed even-temperedness into an exasperated, slushy mess?
When no one around me is able to be patient with me.
No seriously, during [sometimes-long] moments of work down-time, nothing irritates me more (think: to the point of physical violence) than hearing someone complain they are bored, or that there is nothing to do. Reminding them, hey, in approximately twenty minutes it will become so busy you won’t be able to think in a straight line so relish the quiet now? It never works, even when repeated a dozen times.
Maybe I will try a blow to the head next time.
More cases in points:
The majority of items in my Netflix queue are television shows, because, as I like to say: “movies can rarely hold my attention that long.”
Which is funny, because I will think nothing of watching several 45-minute episodes of a show in one sitting. “Play next episode? Oh, okay. But just one more…”
Fast forward to three hours later…
I also say, with little irony, that I’m not really a fan of football because it moves too slowly. The final minutes of a game seem to drag on for hours. Ugh. Who has time for that nonsense?
In other news, my beloved Cardinals played a six-hour, fifteen inning game a few months ago. Had I not been working, I had tickets. And would have stayed for the whole thing.
Unless Juanita started bitching about how long it was taking. Then I would have had to have been escorted out of the park. Something about assaulting my mother.