I’m trying to think of a word that might possibly describe either me or my mood today.
The only one that fits is crotchety.
I’m just damn crotchety today.
I was having a perfectly decent day.
Got a few things done.
Made a few calls.
Landed a decent job.
Then I had to interact with another human being.
And now I’m crotchety.
It started innocently enough.
Charlotte had a craving for chicken tenders from Bethany Blues.
Now personally, I think there are at least 47 places closer to home with chicken tenders that are exactly the same except maybe shaped differently.
But I was happy to drive her there because she had a good day and was super helpful with Lisa at her warehouse.
So no, I wasn’t crotchety about driving 20 minutes for overpriced strips of breaded poultry.
Besides, I like being in the car with Charlotte.
Sometimes we don’t even say anything.
That’s underrated, by the way — being comfortable enough with someone to sit in silence without feeling the need to suddenly discuss interest rates or whether raccoons could beat a medium-sized dog in a fight.
I can read her cues pretty well too.
I know when to talk.
I know when to zip it.
That’s a survival skill after 20+ years of marriage.
Anyway, it was inside Bethany Blues where I had a dialogue of sorts that pushed me fully into crotchety territory.
And yes, Jim, we’re using “crotchety” a lot here.
It’s my word of the day apparently.
Tomorrow I’m hoping for “content.”
Maybe even “pleasantly surprised.”
Not looking promising.
I paid the bill and as we left, both young ladies behind the counter said almost in unison:
“Have a good one.”
I loathe that expression.
What exactly am I supposed to have?
A good what?
A good evening?
A good meal?
A good emotional breakthrough?
Maybe I already HAVE a good one.
Maybe I’m currently in possession of a perfectly acceptable one and now there’s pressure to upgrade it.
Or maybe they looked at me and thought:
“Boy… this guy clearly does not have a good one. Let’s encourage him.”
Which honestly feels judgmental.
And exhausting.
Because now I have a responsibility.
I worked hard today.
I’m tired.
I’ve already had at least a moderately decent one.
Why can’t I just coast the rest of the evening?
Why must I chase greatness at 6:37 PM?
Maybe I’m okay with an average one.
Maybe I’m shooting for “adequate.”
Maybe my goal tonight is simply:
“avoid unnecessary pants.”
See, THAT’S my issue with “Have a good one.”
They don’t know me.
Maybe I’m pessimistic.
Maybe I’m David Downer and I’m perfectly content having a tolerable-to-mediocre one.
Must I strive for excellence simply because a 19-year-old handed me chicken tenders and assigned me emotional homework?
And honestly, it’s also the lack of effort.
That phrase is exhausted.
It’s the beige paint color of human interaction.
How did the whole “6-7” thing disappear in six months, yet “have a good one” survives like a cockroach after nuclear fallout?
At least personalize it a little.
Pretend you care.
Tell me:
“Enjoy the sunshine.”
Or:
“Drive safe.”
Or:
“Hope your evening doesn’t unravel psychologically in a fast-casual parking lot.”
Something with some effort behind it.
Give me something memorable.
Something weird.
“Watch for geese.”
“Trust your instincts.”
“Don’t buy shrimp from a gas station.”
Now THAT would stay with me.
Instead, all I get is:
“Have a good one.”
Well maybe I DON’T WANT TO HAVE A GOOD ONE.
Maybe I want a quiet one.
Maybe I want a nap.
Maybe I want to sit in my chair staring at nothing while holding the remote like it’s part of my identity.
That’s enough.
That’s a fine evening.
So until my next blog piece…
Have a good one.
I had to.
My Take on Life and Events 