Am I a good person? Clearly, I am not.
I question people who don’t question themselves. How can anyone be so sure of his quality as a human being? Oftentimes I find that those that can make such bold proclamations like I’m a good mom, or I’m definitely capable of getting the job done are the exact opposite of what they’re saying.
I don’t ever want to hang out with someone who never doubts himself, someone who lacks the introspection to question how good of a person he really is.
Just as I say these things, I must admit – doubting myself sucks. Don’t get me wrong, I want to be a good person. I mean, don’t we all want to be loved? Isn’t that the whole point of all this?
The other day, I met a new coworker. Let’s just call her Gina (either pronunciation, conventional or the one from The 40-Year Old Virgin, works here). She’s a woman who, from the looks of her, is in her early forties. In an office where the standard energy level of the employees is at a steady 4 out of 10, she bursts onto the scene at level 9. Her smile is about as fake as Giada de Laurentiis’s, made of plastic, just like Vicki of Small Wonder fame.
That’s all I needed to know right there. She hasn’t even said a word yet. She could be Mother Theresa reincarnated. Not a fan already.
She says Hi, nice to meet you! as if I’m a mentally disabled child – slow, loud, and deliberate. Is this a joke? Is she just fucking with me? I want to tell her to STFU, I honestly do, but of course, all I can muster up is the standard level 4 Oh hey, it’s nice to meet you. Welcome. I can feel my vagina growing. And of course, Gina continues to drone about how excited she is to be here and how she’s so looking forward to working with everyone here. Bitch, please. Your bullshit smells worse than my farts. Actually, they don’t; my farts smell really bad.
I go home that day and I think about this brief exchange. This woman never did anything to me. In fact, she was nothing but polite when we met.
So why do I hate her so goddamn much?
Clearly, I have issues. I must be a horrible person. As time goes on, my inner-misanthrope seems to grow stronger and stronger. Instead of seeing the good, I am subconsciously trying to find any reason to dislike anyone I meet. Perhaps this is indicative of my own self-loathing ways.
But then, during the next day of work, another coworker comes by and says, That new girl Gina, what’s her deal? A-ha! So she is hate-able. Okay, I am not alone. Phew.
I think, to a degree, everyone wants to be likable. Hell, I don’t want to be anyone’s Gina. I don’t want to be the subject of anyone’s hatred just from a mere glance.
At the same time, I can’t control how other people feel. As Trent told Mikey in the diner (Swingers reference), I don’t like some people, and some people don’t like me. Come to think of it, I’m sure that I am someone’s Gina.
So what’s the conclusion? I guess it’s that Haters’ gonna hate. Yes, it’s a bit corrosive to the soul to hate people, period, let alone for unjustified reasons. But hey, drinking is corrosive to the liver, and yet, I still drink beer because it tastes so good.
Trust me, you wouldn’t like Gina either.