“I want to know who’s responsible! And I want to know it now!” If you are on social media you have probably have seen this a thousand times. Maybe not these exact words. I used these words so that this would have a stunning beginning that grabs the reader. My writing coach tells me I should always do that. I actually thought I might use, “Marley was dead,” or “It was the best of times. It was the worst of times” but those have been done and frankly, I’m getting off topic.
What I’m trying to say is social media has become the world’s greatest Complaint Festival. And the thing is, ninety-nine percent of it can’t be fixed anyway. Seriously, writing three paragraphs on Facebook about traffic congestion is pretty much useless. Yet every morning about nine-thirty I am bombarded with tales of how frustrated parents are getting their kids to school late, because of a stupid SUV who refused to drive ten miles over the speed limit.
Since I can, I am going to respond to this. First, how does the complainer know the SUV is at fault? If you’re behind one of those things, you can’t see anything around it. Therefore, it cold be the white Ford Focus that’s the issue. Secondly, it could be the simple fact that a couple of hundred people are all dropping off their kids at the same time, and the school is on a two-lane side street. I’ll admit I’m not a huge fan of SUV’s but to randomly blame them for your lateness is a little unfair.
I have thought about this problem for quite some time and I think I have divined an insane solution which might be crazy enough to work. Better take notes, it’s a little complicated. I have a totally irrational suspicion that these complainers might just solve all of their problems by leaving the house fifteen minutes earlier. “What??” You say. I know it’s bold and unheard of. But it just might work. Then again, this might require some one to be responsible for their own actions, and that’s certainly not a viable option. So, forget I ever mentioned it. It’s far better to whine about it. What was I thinking? Besides, I probably wouldn’t communicate with half of my Facebook friends if I didn’t comment on their daily morning rants.
The thing is I really don’t mind the morning traffic report. Sure, the one from friends is a little late and not as accurate as the reports on the radio but then again, I can’t tell those radio folks they’re full of horse manure. The problem stems from, social media does not stop there. The complaints just keep coming, like a torrent of rain, and they never stop. Folks complain about politics and then come back and complain about the people complaining about politics. Then others start in, complaining about those folks complaining about the complainers. It just goes on and on and on.
Of course, there are also cat videos, lots of them. But these are only there trying to accumulate into a large enough quantity for people to start complaining about them. I am happy to say, this country’s tolerance for cat videos is amazingly high. Maybe we should create a way to automatically remove all cat videos, then people would start complaining about that.
Another issue with this is the instant availability. It used to be if your beer was empty, and no one was there to get you another one, you would gripe. But inevitably, you would get up and get the thing yourself and cool off in the process. By the time you saw a friend, telling them you had to get your own beer seemed pretty stupid. But now, we have smart phones. Sure, you still gripe, but then you realize you can share this radical injustice with the world. So, you post it. The thing is, all readers think you’re post stupid so they comment. The comments anger you further and the complaint train rolls out of station, full steam ahead. All the while, you still don’t have another beer. Maybe that’s the genius of smart phones. They prevent alcoholism.
That’s the real issue at hand. I understand people have been complaining about American politics since George Washing had his wooden teeth carved. Also, traffic frustrations have been a thing ever since the second automobile was made. The first guy seriously did not like sharing the road. That being said, this morning I saw a post complaining about the food at a fast-food joint whose name starts with Mc. I truly am amazed at what they must expect. I mean really? Folks, it’s a cheap hamburger joint, not five-star French cuisine. You don’t go there for fine dining and stimulating atmosphere. You go to Ronald’s place for lunch. Basic sustenance containing too much salt and fat. But it’s okay, because you should know this going in.
The worst part is not the fact someone complained. It’s the list of agreements which followed. One person can be ignorant of a place’s menu, but somebody in the list of sixty-seven comments should have known the food there is extremely average. I go there, sure, I just know not to expect much when I do. And I am never disappointed. The post I should be seeing, and never do, is a person bragging on the one time everything was perfect. Perhaps somebody did once and the message was deleted, because this wouldn’t be a complaint. And, as I have already stated, social media, is strictly reserved for complaining.
I am reminded of the song ‘My Way’ where Frank Sinatra sings about regrets. If it had been written today, the line would be something like this: (You’ll have to imagine music in the background) ♫Regrets, I’ve had a few ♪ But, then again, not so few that I couldn’t take the time to complain about them to my thousand Facebook friends. ♫ I POSTED MY WAY♪, [fermata. (that’s music talk for hold the last note for a long time.)] (Thunderous applause) Thank you. You’ve been a wonderful audience. Remember to tip your waitress and good night.
Sorry I was gone. I’m back now