Posted on 05/07/2006 8:33:21 AM PDT by nuconvert
What it takes to be a jerk
BY DAVE BARRY
(This classic Dave Barry column was originally published on Sept. 29, 1996.)
Recently, when I was having a hamburger at an outdoor restaurant, two guys started up their Harley-Davidson motorcycles, parked maybe 25 feet from me. Naturally, being Harley guys, these were rebels -- lone wolves, guys who do it Their Way, guys who do not follow the crowd. You could tell because they were wearing the same jeans, jackets, boots, bandannas, sunglasses, belt buckles, tattoos and (presumably) underwear worn by roughly 28 million other lone-wolf Harley guys.
And, of course, once they got their engines started, they had to spend the equivalent of two college semesters just sitting there, revving their engines, which were so ear-bleedingly loud that I thought my hamburger was going to leap from my plate and skitter, terrified, back into the kitchen. I believe many Harley guys spend more time revving their engines than actually driving anywhere; I sometimes wonder why they bother to have wheels on their motorcycles.
Perhaps you, too, have experienced an assault of Harley-revving; and perhaps you have asked yourself: Why do these people DO this? What possible reason could they have for causing so much discomfort to those around them? As it happens, there IS a reason, and it is an excellent one: They're jerks.
I'm not saying that ALL Harley guys -- some of my friends are Harley guys -- engage in this obnoxious behavior. I'm just saying that the ones who DO engage in it are jerks. And I am not afraid to tell them so, even if they are large and hairy and potentially violent. I am not afraid to say: ``OK, Mr. Loud Harley Guy, you got a problem with me calling you a jerk? You want to DO something about it? You want to express your disagreement by tapping out lengthy Morse Code sentences on my skull with a tire iron? Then why don't you -- if you have the guts -- come see me PERSONALLY at my place of employment, located at 1600 Pennsylvania Ave., Washington, D.C.? Come on if you dare, fat boy! Ride right into the lobby!''
And let me also say, while I'm at it, that I'm sick of you people who park in spaces reserved for the handicapped, even though you are not, personally, handicapped. You know who you are. Many of you even have those little rearview-mirror handicapped signs, which you got from a friend or relative, or which you once needed because of some temporary medical condition that has long since been cleared up.
One of my hobbies is to watch when cars pull into handicapped parking spots, and see who gets out. Very often, in my experience, these people appear to be totally unhandicapped: No wheelchair, no crutches, not even a trace of a limp. I realize that some of these people have problems, such as heart conditions, that are not visible. But some of them, to judge by the sprightliness of their walks, are off to compete in the decathlon. Their only handicap is: They're jerks.
What we need in this country -- I would pay extra income tax for this -- is an elite corps of Handicapped Parker On-Site Medical Examination SWAT Teams. These teams would prowl the streets, wearing rubber gloves and armed with X-ray machines, CT scanners, scalpels, drills, saws and harpoon-sized hypodermic needles.
When a team spotted a handicapped-zone parker who could not immediately prove that he or she was handicapped, that person would immediately undergo a severely thorough on-the-street physical examination conducted by burly personnel who have attended medical school for a maximum of four hours including lunch (''Hey Norm! Which ones are the kidneys again?''). These examinations would involve full frontal nudity and the removal of enough blood, organ and tissue samples to form a complete new human; also, if the SWAT team found a Harley guy revving his engine in a handicapped-parking zone, it would employ the 250-foot intestinal probe nicknamed ''Big Bertha.'' The idea would be that if you weren't qualified to park in a handicapped zone BEFORE the physical examination, you definitely would be AFTER.
And let's talk about you people who always send your food back in restaurants. (I KNOW this has nothing to do with handicapped parking; I can't stop myself.) I mean, sure, if the food is truly BAD, if it has RODENTS running around on it, OK, send it back; but what about you people who ALWAYS send your food back, thereby turning EVERY SINGLE MEAL into an exercise in consumer whining?
I'm sorry! You're jerks! Especially if, when the bill comes, you also ALWAYS insist -- even if everybody ordered basically the same thing -- on figuring out your EXACT share (''Well, I had the Diet Sprite, which is 10 cents less than the iced tea. ...'' ); and then you decide that a 5 percent tip is adequate, thereby forcing your friends, who are embarrassed, to put in more money.
Listen carefully to what I am about to tell you. Put your ear right down to the page: YOUR FRIENDS HATE IT WHEN YOU STIFF THE WAITER. IF THE SERVICE IS OK, YOU SHOULD TIP 15 PERCENT. IF YOU DON'T WANT TO TIP, THEN DON'T EAT AT RESTAURANTS.
Also, you should never, ever, no matter what, butt in front of people waiting in line without asking their permission. Also, if, when you talk to people, they keep backing away from you, it's because you're TOO CLOSE, all right? SO DON'T KEEP ADVANCING ON THEM LIKE A HUMAN GLACIER.
Thank you, and I apologize for using so many capital letters. I can be a real jerk about that.
Videotape this and send it to your local Animal Control/Police. Almost all municipalities anc states have laws against having dogs off-leash and the fines in the last few years have become considerable.
Yeah that's happened to me too. I don't go out to eat with people much anymore, and if I do one of us takes the whole tab anyway.
LMAO at least you are humorous and childish, Very entertaining.
I once saw a Harley set up with a sidecar that had ramp on it for a wheel chair. It was driven by the handicappd person. Its amazing what can be done with a little ingenuity.
The proper thing is to use it and when you have finished your business there move out.
He might have missed a few but the ones he got, he got right, dead-on
Fixed it for you
Despite the fact that they board planes from the rear first, they always seem to be half-full in the front by the time they start boarding even in the middle.
If it wound up on my desk and I didn't want it I would throw it out. Solves the problem.
Get a lot of practice?
So I suppose you are another fool who tips waiters who arent worth a damn.
It has nothing to do with being cheap , It has to do with expecting good service and not paying for bad.
Who's the jerk?
I took your question as sarcasm, If it wasnt I apologise.
If it was sarcasm then you answered your own question.
Do I get a lot of practice at defending myself from being called cheap? I do not.
I also get good service when I return to restaurants where waiters do a good job, because they receive a good tip.
It's a variation on the "some of my best friends are black routine." How original.
seems to me that the solution with the two desks is to make a small openning between them so that the stuff falls down between. I learned that from my cat.
I agree with you that the amount of a tip should be proportional to the quality of the service. Personally, extremely poor service gets 10% from me, rounded down to the nearest buck, and maybe a word to the manager. Otherwise it's 15%-25%, sometimes rounded up to the nearest fin.
I stink at posting photos and don't know photoshop, but I know I can count on Freepers. May I have a picture of George Costanza with some reference to the "Jerk Store" posted on this thread? Thank you very much.
I'm only for doing this when it involves drowning out the Fred Phelps group...
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