Category: Uncategorized

Like any parent should, I love to regale my kids of the times of my youth, when we had to take on the world without the luxuries they enjoy today.

I tell them of how we had to remember actual phone numbers, and further amaze them with the fact my phone number as a kid was only five numbers. Bonus points if I throw in we dialed on a rotary phone.

I tell them how we had to go and knock on neighbors’ doors to get a pick-up game started. No texting for us in the hard-scrabble upbringing of the 80s.

But most of all, I remind them that we did not have the videos on demand they have now. While I sorta (I think) remember the times of just four channels, what I really grew up with was a basic cable package that served up 32 channels and the occasional free weekend of HBO and Cinemax.

Side story: Cinemax gave us a free weekend when I was somewhere around 12. They showed R-rated movies during the day, which my mom told me I was not allowed to watch. I assured her I would not. And I then proceeded to watch a daytime airing of “The Shining,” which is very much rated R. It was one of my great inner-crises when I could not sleep for the next, oh, month or so, but couldn’t spill the beans that it was because I had watched an R-rated movie without my parents knowing. It’s also why I cannot watch horror movies to this day. Thanks, Stanley Kubrick!

Anywho, back on point, so I consistently tell them how much better their life is today than when I was a kid growing up. So imagine my kids’ shock and dismay when I told them I was getting rid of cable TV.

Among the reactions:

“What about football games?”

“What about Jeopardy!?”

“What about Disney channel?”

My answers were, “We’ll still get them” and “We’ll still watch it” and “Seriously, you’re 17. When is the last time you watched Disney channel?”

Responses: “Cool, “Cool,” and “Good point.”

So I am not going Amish here. I am simply cutting the cable cord and going to the future with how we view television. My wife and I had been talking, and we realized our cable bill had steadily crept over the past few years. And we also realized that we pretty much watched Jeopardy! and sports. We’re not anti-TV folks. We just don’t really watch a lot on TV. My kids’ TV diet mostly consists of Netflix and YouTube on their phones. So I started looking at options.

I ended up settling for an over-the-air antenna for local programming (Jeopardy! – check) and an Amazon Fire TV Stick for all other viewings (sports – check).

We will be able to cut our bill dramatically, and will still be able to consume the stuff we normally consume, which really isn’t all that much.

I am sure the new world of TV we have embarked on will be fine. We will have our bumps in the road, sure. I have explained to my kids (and thus kinda to myself) that there will be some things we find that are different with our new set up. This is a different way of media consumption, and when we find things that are different from our previous ways of doing things, rather than get upset about it, we will find new solutions. This is a whole new era of TV, and we are going to embrace it and be champions of the new world.

But in the end, I think we will all be better off and learn a new way of watching TV together as a family. And if anyone grouses about it, I’ll just order up a family movie night and we can all watch “The Shining” together. That’ll teach ‘em…

Mike Gibbons was born and raised in Aiken, S.C. A graduate of the University of Alabama, he now lives in Mt. Pleasant. You can e-mail him at scmgibbons@gmail.com or follow him on Twitter @StandardMike.

 

There are two things I firmly believe – order and karma.

OK, there are quite a few other things I believe in, but that list could get kinda long. “I believe that dogs are neat. I believe Marvel movies are quite entertaining…”

But back to order and karma. One of the finest ways order is brought to this world is through the very simple process of lines. You stand in line. You wait your turn. Pretty much should have this mastered by kindergarten.

For what it’s worth, queue lines are even better, because those force us into line cattle-style, thereby curbing some people’s urge to kinda amble through the line as if it were just a big blob of a crowd.

When there are not queues, you have to stay alert, for some people clearly were not paying attention in kindergarten.

My son and I at were at a place recently where there were lots of lines, but not lots of queues. At one section, there were some space shuttle simulators. No queues. Both simulator seats were occupied, and my son was the only one waiting. No problem. As the girl in front of him finished her turn, she went to exit the simulator. My son went to take his turn when – zoooom! Like a flash, a kid a few years younger than him went darting in front of him, sliding into the seat and starting the simulator.

The mom of the girl who had just been in the simulator turned to me, laughed and said, “You gotta be quick, huh?”

“Or, people could have manners and not cut in line,” I responded. She responded, “Seriously?” I told my son we’d go find another thing to do, as clearly our conversation was not going to get any better.

Fast forward a few hours later. We were in line for another attraction at the facility, a ropes course. This had a queue line, so order was fairly in place. As we neared the front of the line, I looked a few spots up and saw Ms. Seriously. I turned to my son, leaned in and whispered, “Hop the queue and jump in front of her. I’ll tap her on the shoulder and say, ‘You gotta be quick, huh?’” My son gave me a somewhat terrified look.

“Ummm….” he said.

“I’m kidding. Relax.” He seemed relieved. He also seemed like he MIGHT have gone through with it had I not told him I was kidding, which makes me a smidge concerned.

Anywho, back to karma. Now, I am not one for a vengeful, punishing, life altering karma. That’s a little too high stakes for my liking. I like the karma of mild inconvenience. Fail to wave to someone who let you into traffic? You deserve to hit the next eight red lights. Tip absurdly low amount for perfectly fine service? Cold fries next time you order at a drive-through. Fail to return your grocery cart? Consideration for imprisonment in the Phantom Zone dimension from Superman. (OK, maybe I’m a little stricter on the last one.)

For those of you not familiar with ropes courses, you are walking on beams and ropes pretty high up in air, while tethered to a harness. A series of platform connect each obstacle. As you get to a platform, you generally take turns crossing. One side makes their way across, then the other side goes across. Order.

I found myself on the platform with Ms. Seriously. We didn’t chat. I was waiting at the platform for my son to get there, so I had time to kill. She made her way to the beam, getting ready to cross. A person on the other side started across. Only one person can be on the obstacle at a time, so she stepped back to the platform. As the person finished crossing, she went to step off the platform. Again, from the other side, here comes a person. Back on the platform. I sat and watched as four straight people crossed the obstacle, causing her to retreat and – I kid you not – huff loudly and say, “SERIOUSLY?”

Now is where I think we all should I agree that I deserve an award, perhaps even a medal, for NOT saying, “You gotta be quick, huh?”

But had I said that, I would have probably been setting myself up for some mild karmic retribution. The universe had paid her back for laughing at us getting cut in line. No sense in keeping it going.

So order and karma. That’s what we need. And we should always keep looking forward. Otherwise, I’d have to wonder why the karma was being paid to us when the kid cut in front of us…

Mike Gibbons was born and raised in Aiken, S.C. A graduate of the University of Alabama, he now lives in Mt. Pleasant. You can e-mail him at scmgibbons@gmail.com or follow him on Twitter @StandardMike.

 

Folks, here is one truth I know: There is only one correct response if your significant other says, “You go on. I’ll call the fire department.”

That’s right – hit the road! You’ve been given the green light, and your best guy/gal is shouldering the worries of whatever the fire department may be coming out to tend to so go take on the world!

Oh, wait. I mean, exactly the opposite of that.

The other day my wife and I were planning on heading out for the day, and my wife told me she smelled something. “Don’t you smell that?” she said. My wife walked around the house like a bloodhound, nose in the air, sniff-sniffing wherever she went. “There. There. Not there. There.” Eventually, I decided to uproot myself from my chair and walk the house with her. After a few sniff-sniffs, I caught a whiff, too. And it was strong.

We found the smell concentrated in an upstairs bathroom and our downstairs laundry closet. As we wondered aloud if it was a gas leak, it was at that moment that my wife and I both had the frank discussion where we admitted to ourselves that we did not know if, in fact, we had gas coming into our house. I am sure some of you mock us for that. Just a hunch an even higher percentage of you are saying, “Wait, do we have gas?”

After a thorough search, we found no culprits. I told my wife that we should cut the air up a little higher, head out of the day, and come back when it had all sorted itself out. This is the same approach I take to car repair and personal health.

My wife said she was not going to leave the house like this. At that point, she decided we should call the fire department and that I could just go on, if that was my prerogative.

I am sure you are not surprised to learn that I did not, in fact, head on out. Even I am not that dumb. I called dispatch and explained to the operator what was going on. She instructed me to get everyone out of the house and that the fire department would be there soon. My wife, son and dogs were already out back. I called up for my daughter and told her that we had to evacuate the house. She said, “I need to find my hairbrush!!!!” I told her to Get. Out. Now. “I’M LOOKING FOR MY HAIRBRUSH!!!” I ruin everything, with silly little evacuations and such.

The fire department showed up in a few minutes, and they searched the house and found nothing. Their meters weren’t showing anything harmful. They checked every room, every appliance, every nook and cranny. They told us we could come back in, and my wife, poking around in the laundry room, found the culprit – a gasoline-soaked blouse that was wrapped in a towel and tucked up snug against the washing machine.

We sorted it out in short order. A cousin who is staying with us had headed out early in the morning. She stopped to get gas, and the gas splashed back on her. She came back to our house, showered upstairs, and rinsed off the blouse. There were items in the wash, so she put the blouse in a towel by the wash and sent us a text letting us know what the deal was, as she didn’t want to wake us at 5 in the morning.

Turns out, said text never left the starting blocks. She was very apologetic about it, and we told her not to worry about it because, hey, if nothing else, column material.

I told the firemen that I really appreciated them coming out, and I was sorry if I had sent them on a wild goose chase. They assured me that they would much rather residents give them a call when in doubt, rather than, say, crank up the air and just hope it all blows over.

Hopefully we won’t be calling them anytime again soon, but I am relieved to know that they are quick on the draw when responding. Should we have a similar event in the future, I won’t hesitate to call them. But I will make sure I keep an emergency hairbrush outside of the house, just in case.

Mike Gibbons was born and raised in Aiken, S.C. A graduate of the University of Alabama, he now lives in Mt. Pleasant. You can e-mail him at scmgibbons@gmail.com or follow him on Twitter @StandardMike.

 

When a teen gets a driver’s license, they have to (in most states) take a driving course prior to taking the driving test.

This is a good idea, even if it can certainly be debated that letting teens drive is not.

That said, there are a few things that aren’t standard in driver training course, and I think it’s time they added some.

Some of the no-brainer additions: changing a flat tire, jump starting a battery, and how to properly wave thank you when someone lets you in traffic. But a recent event brought one more to me recently: proper honk protocol.

I was at a stop light the other day, and I will admit I was daydreaming a smidge. The light turned green, and I didn’t notice. The car in front of me had maybe gotten two car lengths ahead, so it’s not like I’d been sitting there for hours.

Now, the courteous thing to do – as the gentleman behind me would have learned in driving school had this been taught – would be to give two or three quick little beeps. Just a, “Hey, buddy, green light.”

Instead, he just laid on his horn. Even when I began to go, he continued with the horn. He also added some aggressive hand gestures, because clearly I had not gone immediately as a direct attempt to inconvenience him.

I considered slowing down as I approached the green light and hoping to wait for a yellow, but then I realized that was the dark, little vindictive corner of my brain that I have to hush on occasion.

I got through the light, as did the driver behind me.

But he was still mad. Either that or there was a bee in his car and he was trying to shoo it. And he was tailgating me. Or he was really interested in reading my license plate. Pretty sure it’s the prior on both accounts.

My son was in the car with me and glanced in the side mirror. “Dad, he’s mad.”

“I know, son. And when we get to a stopping place we are going to get out and fight him. Both of us.”

My son stared at me. “Ok, you’re joking.”

I find it somewhat disturbing that my 14-year-old thought, if only for a moment, that the best way to combat road rage was for a father-son battle royale.

“Yes, I am,” I assured him.

My son asked me what I would do if he followed us to our destination and said something to me.

I paused for a moment. Good question. I certainly wouldn’t engage angrily, as, although it has never happened to me, I don’t thinking getting beaten up (or worse) in a parking lot would be much fun.

I told my son I would simply say, “Hey, man. Thanks for the heads up on the green light. My bad.” And if he continued? I would add, “Hey, you’re gonna be OK. Have a great day.”

Fortunately, this scenario never had to be explored, as he turned off after a few miles. But a few quick lessons of horn protocol could have helped avoid any of this.

Need a gentle reminder to go? Beep beep beep.

About to merge into the side of my car? BEEEEEP!!!

About to merge into the side of my car while texting? BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!!!! BEEP!!! BEEP!!!!

(Can we stop for just a second to appreciate about much of a fun word “beep” is? Good. Carry on.)

Granted, even if you taught it, some folks are never going to follow the rules. Maybe this guy is one of those. If you’re reading this and the actions of the guy behind me sound a smidge familiar, just remember that not every bad thing in the world is someone out to get you. Sometimes, other people inconvenience you on accident and without malice. It’s nothing to get your blood pressure up over. You, good friend, are going to be OK.

Now that that’s out of the way, let’s break into groups and have a discussion on the extreme severity of folks who don’t return shopping carts.

Mike Gibbons was born and raised in Aiken, S.C. A graduate of the University of Alabama, he now lives in Mt. Pleasant. You can e-mail him at scmgibbons@gmail.com or follow him on Twitter @StandardMike.

 

Dear Ford,

Brilliant idea. And you’re 16 years late. You could have save me about 200 trips to Cleveland.

Sincerely,

Mike

I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking a cat just walked over my keyboard and randomly typed a paragraph. Well, I don’t have a cat, so there.

Actually, when given context, it makes perfect sense (I think).

See, Ford has developed a prototype for a crib called the Max Motor Dreams that simulates a car ride. It looks like a regular bassinet. However, this bad boy plays car engine sounds and rocks in a manner akin to a moving car. Lights flash on and off to simulate streetlights being passed.

I think I speak for every parent who ever had to use a car as a sleep agent when I say, Ford, you must mass produce this and you must begin yesterday. Or, preferably 16 years ago.

When my daughter was a baby (guessing you can piece together that she’s now 16), her preferred method of going to sleep was never to go sleep.

For the first couple of years, my wife and I took turns trying to get her to sleep. This usually involved us walking the house at all hours of the night singing to her. If we so much as considered placing her in her crib, she would immediately become stiff as board and begin wailing a sound I am fairly certain is normally reserved for hyenas.

So we would walk. And dance. And sing. And walk. And sing. All. Night. Long.

But during the day, when it came time for naps, we had little success with the Mommy and Daddy Dance Party Remix. So we went to the old standby, a few laps around the neighborhood in the car. After a few blocks, she would fall fast asleep. Plenty of times, I remember pulling back in the driveway and thinking, “Hmm. She could wake up if I move her to her bed. Looks like it’s time to catch up on some NPR while I sit in my driveway for the next hour.”

This worked OK for the first few years. But then our daughter did what babies do and developed the ability to communicate with us. And, in particular, she developed the ability to ask questions. Lots and lots of questions.

Plenty of the questions were the standard ones: Why is the sky blue? Why is the grass green? Why can’t we put grass in the sky and make it green?

But one of her main line of questioning involved where we were going. Unfortunately, it’s not an acceptable answer to a curious three-year-old to reply, “Why do you care? You know like five places on the whole planet.”

So often times we would give her the answers. “Grandma’s” or “the store” or “the casino, of course.” But we knew quite well that our anti-sleep daughter was not going to be down with the answer of “We’re driving around so you’ll fall asleep and Mommy and Daddy can have one hour of peace and quiet and you won’t act like an angry cobra later this evening.”

So we went to Cleveland. Every time. “Daddy, where are we going?” “We’re going to Cleveland,” I’d say.

For some reason, she found Cleveland a perfectly fine destination, and eagerly got buckled in for yet another trip to the amazing place that is Cleveland.

Now, you may be wondering, why Cleveland? The answer is I threw a mental dart at the mental map in my head and that’s where it landed. We just had to go somewhere.

My days of tricking a kid into going to sleep are long behind me, but I still really wish I had such a thing as the Max Motor Dreams back in the day. It would have saved me countless of miles of roads traveled, and who knows how many hours of time. I could have put her in the crib and let the magic happen. Of course, the one downside is that she never would have gotten to go to Cleveland so many times.

Mike Gibbons was born and raised in Aiken, S.C. A graduate of the University of Alabama, he now lives in Mt. Pleasant. You can e-mail him at scmgibbons@gmail.com or follow him on Twitter @StandardMike.

 

You know that great feeling of karma when you see someone driving down the road breaking the law and then suddenly a police officer appears?

Yeah, glad I could provide that great feeling to a couple of motorists the other day.

My wife and son and I were traveling down a back highway recently. We travel a lot of back highways, and usually traffic is fairly light. I don’t speed for the most part, but I also don’t like traveling 10 miles under the speed limit for long periods of time.

On this day, we found ourselves the sixth car in a line of cars going about 45 miles per hour. We were at the rear of the pack, so I was going to have to wait for the cars in front of me to pass. And they apparently had little motivation to do that. Eventually, two cars turned off. Then one finally passed. Then another. I was now in prime position to pass.

As we approached a long stretch of road. I took my opportunity and passed the car. And just as I got back into the proper lane, along came a state trooper.

“He got you,” my wife said.

“Yep,” I said.

He immediately hit his brakes and turned around. Fantastic.

About five seconds later, here came the blue lights.

I pulled off to the side of the road and could feel the laughter as the other car went by me (at 45 mph).

I rolled down my window and pulled my license out of my wallet as my wife retrieved the registration from the glove box. As the trooper approach, I stuck my head out the window and screamed, “I PAY YOUR SALARY!!! ALSO, AREN’T THEIR MURDERS TO BE SOLVED!?!?!?”

Ha! A little bad citizen humor there. I passed on those chestnuts for multiple reasons, but the main one being that, yeah, he had caught me speeding.

As he approached, I leaned out the window and said, “You got me. I was speeding. I know.” I handed him my license, and explained to him that I had been behind that car (along with a bunch of other cars) for about 20 miles, and finally had an opportunity to pass. I told him when he passed me I had was beginning my deceleration but that, yes, in fact, I was speeding at that time.

“I’ve got no reason to think you’re lying,” he said, taking my information.

About two minutes later he came back to my car. “I’ve issued you a written warning. Have a good day, sir.”

No. YOU have a good day, sir. In fact, have a GREAT day, new best friend!

We headed on down the road, and then this thought occurred to me: I needed to find that car and let them know that they no longer got to delight in my comeuppance, because I just got a warning. To do that, I would have to drive probably 90, something that was not going to happen because (a) I shouldn’t be driving that fast and (b) my wife became the ultimate speed monitor in the car every time we hit 56 mph.

At one point, we had this exchange:

ME: So is it like I have a learner’s permit now and you’re the driving instructor?

MY WIFE: I’m not the one who got pulled over for speeding.

ME: You and I have the exact same number of speeding tickets today: zero.

OUR SON: But you got a warning for speeding.

ME: Stay out of this.

I never did find the slow car so that I could let them know about my warning victory, although I did monitor every gas station we passed, just in case. Granted, had I found the car stopped somewhere, I am pretty sure I would not have gone and said anything to them. For one thing, I don’t think my new driving instructor would have allowed it.

Mike Gibbons was born and raised in Aiken, S.C. A graduate of the University of Alabama, he now lives in Mt. Pleasant. You can e-mail him at scmgibbons@gmail.com or follow him on Twitter @StandardMike.

 

I try not to be an inconvenience in other people’s lives.

For example:

• When I am walking across a street, I actually get on across and, to the best of my knowledge, have never once stopped to respond to a text message in the middle of the road.
• When my kids were little, if they turned into tiny balls of rage and fury while in public, I would take them out of that situation and thereby away from people who don’t want to have their dinner music accompaniment be screams.
• I know that the only proper way to put toilet paper on a roll is the over method, and anyone who thinks it’s under should be viewed through suspicious eyes from that point forward.
• Grocery carts. Duh.

So imagine my dismay when I was called out for inconveniencing another person. My first reaction — what have I done? Me? Am I monster? That lasted about 1/10 of a second, at which point my reaction turned to, “Are you kidding me, pal?”

It happened at the grocery store the other day. I had gotten the groceries and was wheeling my cart out to my car. Because I plan ahead, I had parked right next to a cart corral. Maximum efficiency, maximum awesomeness.

I put the groceries in my car and sent the cart to its proper destination.

I hopped in the driver’s seat and went to put on my seat belt. At that point, the sound came.

BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!!!!!

I looked over my right shoulder, expecting to see a collision near-miss between other cars. Nope. It was clearly directed at me. The horn continued, and a hand extended out of the window, giving off a great-big “What is wrong with you!?!?!” vibe. Which is why I had my initial reaction. And then it occurred to me that I had been in my car for about three seconds.

I wasn’t hanging out placing a call or adjusting the radio or anything non-mission critical.

Sit. Insert key. Buckle seat belt. Reverse. I know this drill.

Clearly, this guy wanted my parking space, and he wanted it right then. And I was not moving fast enough for him. Well, good sir, guess who just got waaaaaay slower than he normally is?

I also noticed there were plenty of other open spaces in the lot. He was going to honk at me to hurry rather than walk an additional 10 feet?

Again, he was having the opposite effect of speeding me up.

I considering just getting out of my car, locking it up and heading back into the store.

Then the part of my brain that is slightly more evolved made the point that this guy who was honking at me was probably not going to see me go inside and say, “Well, he showed me. I should probably be nicer to people from this point forward in life.”

Some people just aren’t nice people. Some people are just rude. And it’s not worth my energy to be an active part of their world or attempt to help them evolve as civilized humans. Some you come in contact with are as far along as they’re going to get.

So I backed out and headed on my way, not even looking back at Beepy. As I pulled toward the exit, I approached a crosswalk. A shopper was exiting the store with a cart. I stopped, and waved her across. She smiled and waved back as she scooted across the lot to her car. A little mutual civility back and forth. That’s where I’d prefer to spend my energy. That and making sure toilet paper is placed over.

Mike Gibbons was born and raised in Aiken, S.C. A graduate of the University of Alabama, he now lives in Mt. Pleasant. You can e-mail him at scmgibbons@gmail.com or follow him on Twitter @StandardMike.

 

I try to eat fairly healthy. We have never been much of a junk food household. And most of our dinners are homemade affairs that only on occasion involve deep frying wings. (Those occasions are football related, so that counts as healthy.)

Alas, I am not perfect when it comes to eating, in particular when I am left alone. For example, there may have been a time within the last year that my family was out of town and I ate pepperoni pizza for four straight meals. Maybe.

Other times when I find myself eating less than healthy are when I am hurried for lunch. Oftentimes, I come home for a standard turkey sandwich-type lunch. However, when I am rushed, I find myself grabbing a quick bite on the go. And pretty much as a rule, you can’t combine healthy and quick. While I am not a nutritionist, I am just guessing that a gas station hot dog is not exactly the pinnacle of healthy eating. It is the pinnacle of delicious guilty pleasures, but I digress.

So I was in a rush and in need of lunch the other day. I decided I would swing into a drive-through and grab a burger and fries to eat in the car as I traveled to my next appointment. It was right about 12:30, so there line was fairly long. That said, it is fast food, and none of us were going to stump the chef with our orders, so the line would move quickly.

I placed my order and made my way to the first window to pay. The window opened, and the woman told me my total. I extended my hand to give her my bank card. “Oh, our credit card machine is broken,” she said.

Now for plenty of people this would not have been a problem. They would have just handed her some cash and moved along with their transaction.

I am not one of those people. For one thing, I have teenagers. On the rare occasions I do have cash, it usually disappears a few minutes before school starts, when a panicky teen comes to me and says, “Dad! I need $10 for the field trip t-shirt and the order is due today!” Or “Dad! The shaved ice truck is at school today and I need $5 or I will be ostracized by all the kids if I am the only one without a sugary and colorful cup of ice!” Or “Dad! I’m taking money out of your wallet as a constant reminder of how much children cost!”

I told the woman that I did not have any cash. She said, “Oh, well.”

“Um….”

“I’ll void your order. Thank you.” And she went to close the window.

“Um….”

I sat there for a moment trying to figure out what my next move was. And what lunch would be.

At that point, I heard a voice behind the woman. “Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!”

A manager emerged and fully opened the window. “Sir, just a moment,” she said.

She turned to the employee. “Yeah, you need to tell people the credit card machine isn’t working.” The employee gave her a rather blank stare.

“Sir, please pull forward and get your order. It’s on us. Have a good day,” she said.

And off I went, free lunch in hand. (Fun fact: There IS such thing as a free lunch!)

My day got immediately a little bit better, as would anyone’s who had just gotten a free burger and fries. Had this been a mom and type of place, I would have gladly gone to a bank machine, gotten some cash and gone back and paid for my order. But I feel fairly confident this company will be McFine.

Now that I’ve had my less than healthy quick-fix lunch, I will try and get back on track and get back to eating healthy. Granted, I know at some point I will have a lapse and I will find myself needing to get a quick bite on the go. Hopefully, I can I find a place where their credit card machines are down.

Mike Gibbons was born and raised in Aiken, S.C. A graduate of the University of Alabama, he now lives in Mt. Pleasant. You can e-mail him at scmgibbons@gmail.com or follow him on Twitter @StandardMike.

 

So there’s this guy I know. He’s got a meeting Monday. But he might be able to do to get with you Tuesday. But what he really wants is to make sure the contract is signed.

OK, I don’t know him. At all. But I do know all of that other stuff. Why? Because he decided to have this conversation extra loud while pacing back and forth in a coffee shop.

Now I’m not one of those luddites who can’t stand if someone is using technology in public. We live in a world where people are mobile and on the go. Coffee shops are the people’s office. I often work in one, and I on occasion take phone calls when I am in there. I see no problem with taking a phone call if you talk in a tone that you would if someone were sitting across from you.

My problem with this guy was that he was not sitting in one spot, speaking in a normal tone. He was a loud person. And I get what it’s like being loud. My wife is constantly reminding me that I have a rather loud voice, usually when we are in public. Normally, it’s over very unimportant things, but she will tell me that we don’t need to ask the entire supermarket what kind of hummus to buy. (Our daughter inherited this gift, which provides me the opportunity to be a raging hypocrite and point out when she is talking loudly.)

The guy was also strolling back and forth through the store, from one end to the other, and then back to the other side.

Again, I get the pacing. I don’t think I have had a phone call in my house while seated in 20 years. I, too, am a pacer. But not in a coffee shop. It’s a social contract we engage in. Your conversation is yours, and it doesn’t need to become mine.

I continued working away as the gentleman paced back and forth, but I have to admit, I spent less time looking at my computer and more time watching others in the coffee shop. There were probably 15 other people in there. And every time the dude strolled passed their tables, someone would look up, having their at-the-table conversation disrupted by the guy who really had to finalize some contracts.

So what I want to ask each and every one of you today: Start today asking yourself, with everything you do, are my actions going to have a negative impact on someone else? I tell my kids this all the time. For example, when strolling through a parking lot, is your desire to play Pokemon Go or Snapchat something that critical that you should slow down traffic? No. It’s not. But my kids are teenagers. They’re expected to be knuckleheads. Adults shouldn’t have to be told this. But apparently they do.

So adults — time to reset. Time to remember what I always tell my kids — other people exist on this planet. And life is so much better when you realize that they are there. So don’t stroll through a coffee shop having a loud conversation. Also, don’t:

• Mosey through a parking lot while staring at your phone, as I’ve already pointed out.
• Take 11 items to the express line when it clearly says 10 items or less (even though it should be “fewer”).
• Leave your grocery cart in the middle of a parking spot (pretty sure any long time reader of my column saw this one coming).
• Continually switch lanes trying to win a traffic jam.
• Litter. Seriously, it’s 2017. Who’s OK with that now?
• Stay on your phone call when you are checking out at the store.
• Stay on your phone when you are checking someone out at the store.

I am sure I could write on and on and on about little things people could stop doing that really shouldn’t have to be said. But let’s start with some of the basics. Come on, people. We can do this. We can remember that other people exist around us. And we can still probably get that contract signed by Tuesday.

Mike Gibbons was born and raised in Aiken, S.C. A graduate of the University of Alabama, he now lives in Mt. Pleasant. You can e-mail him at scmgibbons@gmail.com or follow him on Twitter @StandardMike.