And some more not-quite-so-nice thoughts about entitlement
It takes a hell of a lot to really piss me off. Yeah, I know you don't believe that but it's true. I managed to get pissed off today several times. Why, you ask?
First: if you're on a message forum don't argue with the mods. Jesus Christ -- how stupid can you be. Just DON'T. You don't prove a damn thing except how stupid you are. Why? Because you can't win. This is directly related to a situation that blew up on Absolute Write today and I have to say: it wasn't the mods' fault. None of them. They were in the right. It doesn't take the brains the gods gave a rock to know that bellowing out bullshit about how 'persecuted' you are on a website is just plain dumb. Period. End of story. But the flouncer felt entitled to speak his piece, to his own detriment. He felt entitled to special treatment because of his special position in the universe.
Now don't get me wrong: not all mods are fair. Not all message boards are equal. You all know of the boards of which I speak *wink*. But you know what? My spectacular exit from the board-who-shall-not-be-named was planned. It was an intentional throwing of myself on the proverbial grenade to prove a point--a point, I might add, which came across in spades. I took a gamble, I lost, and I was banned. *shrug* Rightly banned. I deserved it. Hell, I courted it!
And I loved every minute of it.
I didn't scream about how 'persecuted' I was. I didn't whine and moan about how the mods were out to get me. I didn't even flame out with a curse-filled flounce. I made my point, wickedly, and got bounced. Fair enough.
See, I didn't feel entitled to remain. Much the same way that I don't feel entitled to call someone names or dismiss their intellect just because they disagree with me.
Even if they are stupid.
*sigh* It's so damn annoying. I wasn't even involved in this controversy but I got sucked right in because I absolutely cannot stand it when someone just doesn't get the point, doesn't take responsibility for the own actions and suck it up.
Then of course there's work. I'm quickly getting to the point where I hate to walk into the place. Here again, I'm dealing with a sense of entitlement--my boss feels entitled to dictate my schedule even though I've made it clear that I need specific days and a set routine. Saturday night, I told him "My birthday is this week and I need to go home to Tennessee." He says, "No problem."
AND THEN SCHEDULES ME TO WORK. ON MY BIRTHDAY. LESS THAN TWELVE HOURS AFTER THE FIRST DISCUSSION.
For pete's sake---was it that hard to remember? But then again, I did get lots of sympathy tips tonight so it made it worthwhile. And a night that I thought would be dead dead dead because the fair is over was actually a fairly good shift.
But wow am I tired.
Here's the way I see it: no one is entitled to anything.
I wonder, how much easier would life be if everyone felt that way? What if, for one glorious day, the human beings on this planet woke up and didn't think about what everyone else owed them...or what they were cheated out of...or how someone was out to get them? What if everyone woke up and thought, "Wow. I'm here because of my own actions. No one else is responsible; it's all on me."
Would that be scary? Exhilarating? Liberating? Would people be able to go through their daily routines without acting like asshats? Is it possible that for twenty-four hours we could manage to scrape through our lives without feeling entitled to something we think we deserve to possess?
No. It's impossible. Unfortunately, human beings as a whole find it much easier to blame someone else for their problems. We think that people owe us. We feel that our peers are required to provide that which we need, simply because we exist.
Existence is NOT entitlement. Get over yourselves and I'll try to get over myself. You don't owe me and I don't owe you. We'll call it even and try to exist without stomping all over toes. Because I have to tell you, I've had enough of this entitlement bullshit.
And if you don't cut it out, I'm going to call my lawyer.