Today I went to the laundromat to wash my comforter. I really hate going to the laundromat, but it had to be done. Why do I hate going? Well, because of schmucks like the one I encountered today. I start my washing and walk over to the wall to find a place to sit and work on grading some papers.
Middle aged, overweight dude looks over at me. "Smile already, it gets better."
Goddamn it, why do middle aged men always feel the need to tell me to f*ing smile? Since when is my facial expression any of their business? "Not 'til next week," I said as I grabbed my things and headed for another place to sit.
Behind me, I heard him say, "Huh?"
Exactly dude. You know absolutely nothing about me. Shut the f* up.
What happens next week, you ask? Nothing special, it was just the first stupid thing that came into my mind. More than almost anything else in the world, I hate being ordered to smile by complete f*ing strangers. It's rude and implies that if I'm not completely ecstatic to be doing my laundry, there's something wrong with me. I mean, what the hell?
Of course, I have a friend whose mouth is naturally turned up a the corners, begging strangers to randomly ask her "What are you smiling about?" Can't win for losing.
Since when is somebody's facial expression the business of strangers? Leave it alone, man. And, if you really, really want somebody to smile, commanding them to do so is damn sure not the way to do it. There's a much easier way, in fact. You smile at them. The vast majority of people will smile back.
Thank Harold I get to do all the rest of my laundry at home.
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