I know I’m not for everyone.
(And that’s why this post is not for everyone.)
I don’t think that there are many people who actively dislike me, but I would guess for every person who would play for Team Rhianna, there are at least two who conveniently have other commitments on game day.
Take your pick of what I see as contributions to my bristly nature: introversion; childhood trauma; INTJ-ness; not-actual-but-hypothetical spectrum disorder; delulu intellect confidence; preference for logic; impatience; or being a disciple of Larry David. Then, add that I can be an awkward mix of an exceedingly polite Canadian; a ballsy New Yorker; a bumpkin from Edmonton; and an etiquette stickler. These are all reasons why sometimes it’s just easier for me, or it’s my preference, to spend a lot of time alone.
One part of myself that got stronger in New York and has only increased with age is my fearlessness to complain, criticize, or give feedback in public situations. Part of why I left New York was because I started to see the seeds of a bitter New Yorker sowing. I saw what I thought could be an older me all the time: the person snapping at someone who is (not really) pushing while trying to get on a busy subway train; the person snapping at someone who shops from the line at Trader Joe’s; or the person who makes a fuss at someone who doesn’t clean the treadmill when finished at the gym.
Not being for everyone is something I am at peace with, but I don’t want things to get worse.
I have very little confidence in myself when it comes to everything except pointing out what I view is wrong with someone or something. It’s a trait I picked up from family dynamics, and it’s something that has brought me tremendous shame when I’ve seen how much it can hurt people when it comes out in private situations.
But in the context of a restaurant, I have no shame in pointing out problems. Especially when the experience is costing me an amount of money. As someone who tracks her spending down to the single dollar, and also here, the single đồng, any amount is significant. I’m that customer. The one who likely inspires eye rolls.
I am not afraid, perhaps to a fault, to point out when a restaurant makes a mistake that I think affects the experience I was promised or expected. Because as much as I would love to forget, as much as I’m sure some restaurant staff would love to forget, our relationship is transactional. I love connecting personally and sincerely with restaurant folk, and I know they do, too. But I never forget how money colours it.
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