Gone Viral Infection
An open letter to the guy who cut me in line at Burger King,
I only eat fast food a couple times of year. It’s usually when I’m either in a bind for something quick, or under the influence of alcohol. The former is why I was waiting on line at Burger King one day on my lunch break, and the girls at the register were not making it very clear which ones were open, which were closed, and which were ready to take my order. When one of the cashiers finally said “Can I help who is next?” you jumped ahead of me and put your order in. I was clearly the next person in line; actually, until you swooped in, I was the only person in “line.” Like I said, I was pressed for time, and having to wait another order’s time to submit mine made me visibly annoyed. How do I voice this frustration? Cue Dennis Hopper from Speed: Pop Quiz - WHAT DO YOU DO? I thought about doing what everyone else I know does in this situation... the obvious, logical next step: take my phone out and make a post about it.
I can't tell you how much it bothers me when people take to social media to confront their problems. We have created a society of incessant cyber-whining (of which, yes, I am aware that I am now currently guilty of) in which we type our complaints out on a keyboard to make ourselves feel better. It’s as if someone took the idea of Missed Connections on Craig’s list and applied it any instance where you should have done something about it at the time (of which, you could also say about Missed Connections). You’re pretty much admitting that you are too much of a coward to dare utter your thoughts to a person or people that annoy you, while at the same time expecting those that know you to sympathize with you. While I am not one for confrontation, I welcome it much more than the bush-league alternative that has become a societal norm.
What is troubling about this new wave of pen pals is that these are not fool-hearted teens who are incapable of actual human interaction, but actual adults who were around and grown before the era of the internet tough guy. What an example you’re setting for the younger people you know: instead of facing something head-on, just keep quiet to yourself, and introvert your feelings until you can safely type all the things you want to say to a forum of people that have nothing to do with the situation. It’s sad to think that the best possible outcome of this course of action would be to post a status about the guy next to you on the bus who won’t lower his music, then tap him on the shoulder and show him the post on Facebook and say “That’s what I think of you.” Are you hoping the person sees it (no, you’re not)? Are you just being polite (no, you’re not)? Didn’t Adam Sandler and Jack Nicholson make a movie about the dangers of this exact concept (yes, they did)? The truth is, if you REALLY want someone to stop (insert deplorable action) , you would actually say something to them instead of not. If you actually said something, maybe they would stop, or maybe they would think twice next time before starting. This is Interaction 101. Remember human interaction? I do. And those were good times.
And yet, I can’t help but wonder what bothers me more: when people take to the internet to air their grievances, or when people take to the internet to express gratitude. Take, for example, Dear 'Daddy' in Seat 16C or To The Woman and Child Who Sat at Table 9. Yes, these warm/fuzzy stories are not as annoying, and seem to generate positive vibes from social media as a whole. But my same complaint persists: why replace human interaction with a penned letter? Why not do it face-to-face? Why take the time later to go type something out, put it on the internet in hopes that on the off-chance this person sees it? This is a selfish way to thank someone. This thank you is more about you than about the Daddy in seat 16C. If complaining about people online is bad, then (in my opinion) wasting a heartfelt, sincere thank you on a keyboard is infinitely worse. We are no longer saving only our awkward interactions for online purposes, we have now stooped to replacing the best kind of interactions with e-letters. For what, in hopes that it goes viral? What’s next... getting married over Skype? 3-D baby printing?1
I’ve been known to be a harsh critic of online dating. My argument is that there is no substitute for face-to-face, human interaction. But, admittedly, I understand the need for it. At least you get the awkward, beginning phase out of the way, and when you do meet for the first time, you have an idea of how it’s going to go. My previous stance was that those awkward beginning phases are imperative for you to grow/learn/figure out what you really want. I still believe this to be true, but no longer downplay online dating, especially now that this new wave of online banter has taken over. It is pretty much the opposite of online dating; instead of doing the online interaction first, then the human interaction, it starts with an awkward human interaction, and leaves the most important part for the keyboard. Compared to this practice, online dating is practically as chivalrous as it gets.
There’s a reason the term for things like this is “gone viral.” Viral is not a positive word. If someone says to you “I have a viral infection,” I doubt you will say to them “Congrats! I saw that on Buzzfeed!” Viral comes from virus, meaning an infection, a sickness, a disease that spreads quickly. The cure for introversion used to be lots of human contact. The next time the guy on the bus next to you is chewing loudly, instead of taking your phone out and tweeting about it, try asking him politely (or not politely, I’m not the moral police, although I do play one on this blog) to chew softer. What’s the worst that can happen? He says no? He chews louder? Those are probably worth the calculated risk that... maybe, just maybe, he’s a decent person and not the hellish demon you make him out to be and says “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.”
Which brings me back to being in line at Burger King. While you, my friend the line-cutter, waited for your food, I barked at you “Hey... didn’t feel like waiting?” You turned, gave me at first a combative look as though I insulted you (which, I will admit, the tone did warrant), then a confused look, followed by “There’s a line.” I responded with “I know... I was standing on it.” You looked behind me, in front of me, shrugged your shoulders and turned back to the cashier. For me, that would have been enough of an exchange to end it. But what you did next solidified my stance on this subject. When you got your food, you turned to me, held your bag of food open and as I stepped forward to order, and said “Sorry, I didn’t realize. Want some fries?” All I could do was laugh and respectfully decline. You laughed and walked away, presumably on with your busy day as I did mine. And keep in mind, this was in New York City, arguably the rudest city on the planet. A potential heated exchange ended with two smiles, none the worse for wear.
You’re an okay guy, line-cutter. The rest of you, grow a pair.
You may not believe this, but when I came up with those two scenarios, I did not know those articles existed. Only after I wrote it, and right before publishing, did I think to look up if anything like either actually existed. As it turns out... they both do. So much for hyperbole.
