Most treasured Listener, I have been reduced to a violent, ire-spewing volcano of fury. I have been filled with such mania that I fear for those around me. I have been consumed by a raving anger that I cannot be sure hasn’t ruptured my spleen.
What has caused this surge of rage inside me, you may ask.
A sandwich.
A sandwich, Listener.
Allow me to explain.
I bought a shop-made sandwich. I bought it because my greedy eyes liked the look of the bulge of sumptuous egg filling that ballooned from the bread and smattered against the plastic wrapping. I went all Samuel L. Jackson on myself, and muttered ‘That looks like a taaaasty sandwich’.
I skipped home, joyful at the prospect of mouthful after mouthful of lavish eggy delight.
The first couple of bites were as I had hoped: bloated with generous, chunky egg. The third and fourth mouthfuls were strangely disappointing. There was a distinct lack of filling. The fifth and sixth mouthfuls were annoying. The seventh and eighth were a downright insult. The ninth was an outrage. Twas nothing but bread.
You see, Listener, sandwich manufacturers are deceitful toads. They will construct a triangular sandwich so that it appears to be consistently spread with a generous, nay, munificent amount of filling. It is only when the innocent, trusting customer has purchased and nibbled the initial hypotenuse of the triangular sandwich, that they discover there is no more filling.
I shall demonstrate using this helpful diagram:
This seemingly trivial incident made me shockingly and bafflingly angry. I ranted about it for a full 20 minutes. I was livid. Why? It was only a sandwich. It obviously touched a weak spot in me, that spot that makes my normally calm demeanour bubble over into a venomous frenzy.
I can only deduce that I experienced the phenomenon that occurs occasionally in life that I shall call ‘Moments of Inexplicable and Disproportionate Rage at Minor Incidents’. Those inconsequential things that send a normally laid-back human being into a torrent of wrath. Everyone has stimuli that send them into unadulterated, uncontrolled, unjustifiable rage, and, if you will allow me, dearest Listener, I shall exhibit the most potent of mine.
People Unnecessarily Reading Out Words
I can already feel my blood pressure rising.
People who feel the need to vocalise every single word they see around them makes me inexplicably livid. I had a boyfriend many years ago whose lovely mother cultivated this rage in me. On car journeys she would sit in the front passenger seat gazing serenely out of the window. What’s wrong with that? Nothing. But what would you do if someone in your car, from which you cannot escape, reads out loud every single road sign and every single billboard and every single shop name you pass?
Exactly. You would set fire to your own foot.
Just imagine it. An entire journey filled with a relentless oral commentary of geographical wordage. With every turn into a new road she would say dreamily ‘Albert Crescent… Rose Drive… Edridge Road… Samson Street…’ And just when I thought we were safe on long roads with no turnings, there would be ‘McDonalds… Marks and Spencers… Vision Express… Starbucks…’
And with every harmless vocalisation from the front seat, I would sit in the back seething quietly to myself and wishing this lovely, blameless woman would have a sudden heart attack.
Complicated Clothing
Oh, cherished female listeners, how many times have you seen a dress or a top on a shop window model and thought ‘Oh my goodness me, that is a gorgeous dress. I would love nothing more than to add that charming garment to my wardrobe,’ and you have taken it to the fitting rooms to discover that this dress has been made by people with a streak of such sickness inside them, such malice, that you wonder at the very continuation of humanity. For this dress is literally impossible to get into.
It is made of gratuitous straps and erroneous gaps and with such heinous anatomical disregard, that you cannot help but exclaim ‘THE VERY EXISTENCE OF THIS DRESS IS FUTILE AND OFFENSIVE, FOR NO HUMAN BEING WILL EVER SUCCEED IN WEARING IT, AND WHY THE FLYING F*** WAS IT EVER INVENTED IN THE FIRST PLACE???’
This makes me want to line up a row of baby meerkats and machine-gun them.
People Who Dawdle at Ticket Barriers
We all know that terrifying moment of panic upon approaching a station ticket barrier, when we are fumbling for our tickets, and that terrible fear sears through our mind: What if I don’t find my ticket before I reach the barrier???
We all know that feeling. But we step to one side where our physical presence will not be an obstacle to others, and we rummage in our bags and pockets, cursing wildly under our breath, until we find our ticket and rejoin the stream of people through the barriers. All is well.
Except not everyone does that, do they? No. Some people choose to search for their missing ticket in the entrance to the ticket barrier thereby preventing any other poor sod from passing through.
This makes me want to discharge my own kidneys.
I tell you what, Person Searching for Your Ticket at the Ticket Barrier, why don’t you just sit down and have a rest while your there? Maybe get a book out and have a read for half an hour? Got a vase that needs mending? No problem, I’ll fetch you some superglue and you can do it right there.
You monster.
Irrelevant Detail in Stories
Being told a story by a friend is a lovely thing. Whether it’s humorous, sad, or nail-bitingly exciting, it should be a joy. However, so many verbal tales are ruined by narrative detours of such abominable irrelevancy that they make me want to run head-first into exposed brickwork.
Observe the following scenario:
Chum: Did I tell you the story about when I found a dead body in my airing cupboard?
Me: No? Gosh, that sounds exciting. Pray tell.
Chum: Well I’d just got home from work one Wednesday – or had I been to yoga? It could’ve been ballet conditioning, come to think of it… perhaps it was a Thursday, in which case it would’ve been cookery class. Anyway, I got home and – no, it was definitely Tuesday because I had my swimming kit with me and my hair was wet – unless it had been raining… We’d had a lot of rain, I know that much, because I remember saying to Gary how the marigolds were going to suffer…
Chum: Anyway, I got in and made myself a tuna sandwich – or was it salmon? No, definitely tuna, because we hadn’t had any salmon in the house for ages because Sainsbury’s had been out of them for at least two weeks – could’ve been a month, come to think of it, I know they were very short for a good long while… So I ate my sandwich, had a glass of squash and an apple, maybe even a banana, although I don’t tend to have bananas in the evening because they give me gas, and I took some washing out of the washing machine… or was it the tumble dryer? I think I put another load in, you know, of jeans, shirts, socks…
Chum: … and I took some ironing upstairs – we’d just had Ian and Bev over to stay, so I’d had some extra linen to iron, and the steam iron had packed in so we’d had to go to B&Q to get a new one – sixty quid, can you believe it? Gary was furious. Yeah, so I’d gone upstairs with this pile of ironing, which had taken me all Saturday morning to do … or did I do it on Sunday? It could’ve been Sunday because I think we’d gone to Gary’s mother’s on Saturday and she’d made this awful marmalade tea loaf – or was it a lemon drizzle?
Listener, I do not have it in me to endure such flagrant contempt for narrative pertinence.
And recounting all those things has sent me into such a bluster I shall be forced to smash myself in the face with the picture frame I bought from Debenhams. Or was it Bentalls? It could have been John Lewis. Actually, I’m pretty sure it was Ebay…
BECKY SAYS THINGS 
‘Moments of Inexplicable and Disproportionate Rage at Minor Incidents’ – thank you for for defining what this is.
I used to have a boss who would suck on a lollipop with such loud enthusiasm and smackery that I wanted to put my head through my computer screen.
That would indeed be the natural reaction. There is no need whatsoever for sucking lollipops with loud smackery. In fact, the sound of people eating should have gone on my list. It is intolerable and it makes me want to burn down rainforests.
The irrelevant details in stories thing is my No.1 annoyance … I just want to shout ‘Why the f*** don’t you just tell me the basic details you effing moron!’
But apart from that I’m good to go …
I’m so with you. I like a good narrative meander, if it’s along the lines of ‘and then I fell over a hedgehog and bashed my head on an elderly lady’, but if they’re not along those lines I want no part of them.
It was well worth the wait!!! Excellent post, AGAIN. Stickman wasn’t too bad either…
Thank you dearest chum 🙂
Stickman does okay doesn’t he?
He’s fine. You shouldn’t worry. Unless he starts his own blog, then you might be in trouble.
And that is precisely why I keep him locked up in Microsoft Paint.
Flagrant contempt for narrative pertinence…….This week I noted this phrase from a colleague ‘you’re not wrong, I’m just on a different level of elaboration’. I think that might represent something notably flagrant. Great blog, there are few laughs to be had on a Tuesday. 🙂
‘A different level of elaboration’. In other words, you’re talking NONSENSE. I like it, I shall use it 🙂
Thanks for reading!
Very funny post – all things worthy of disproportionate rage. With all the horrible, serious events in the world to be incensed about, sometimes it’s more manageable to lose one’s mind over the small stuff. Listening to meandering stories with unnecessary detail makes me want to scream ‘get to the point – you’re eating up my life expectancy!’. Thanks for the laugh.
Glad you agree that my disproportionate rage was in fact proportionate, especially at the unnecessary details point. I have no time for them. LEARN HOW TO TELL A STORY. And yes, as you say, MY LIFE IS SHORTENING BECAUSE I AM BEING FORCED TO LISTEN TO YOUR IRRELEVANT DETAILS.
Thanks for reading 🙂
Only one issue with this post: I noticed you used “Disproportionate” when defining this phenomenon and I’m afraid your auto-correct must have accidentally injected it for “Appropriate.” It’s the only logical explanation as all of the above examples are, in fact, heinous acts of an ungodly nature and warrant these exact responses (i.e. discharging one’s own kidneys.) Might want to have your computer looked at.
Christ, you’re absolutely right. ‘Appropriate and proportionate’ were the words I typed in, but bloody Microsoft decided to change them. It’s political correctness gone mad. Anyone can see these are heinous acts of an ungodly nature, and discharging one’s own kidneys is the only natural course of reaction.
I shall send my computer to be mended right away. Thanks so much for pointing it out.
🙂
Wow. I have those all the time and just never knew *quite* what to call them. I thank you for the ability to better explain that particular pathology- and for the Tuesday morning laugh.
SO glad other people experience disproportionate rage, and I’m not just being gratuitously spiteful towards humanity 🙂
You’re the only person who can make me smile over tales of rage. Great stories, great pictures. The sandwich rage, for obvious reasons, was especially awesome. Good job on the diagram! The same postulate (is it a postulate? I think it is because it’s fun to say and write) holds true for cups of soft serve ice cream. The ice cream mountains over the top, spills over the sides–but. There’s often a big hole of AIR in the middle. Alas–your sandwich story all over again. Why do they do that?
Lots of blood in this one, Becky. Are you angry about something? haha.
You’re so right about ice cream. I hadn’t thought of that. And SALADS. Have a salad in a restaurant, and you think ‘Wow, look at all that lovely generous topping of chicken and avocado and tomatoes and exciting things like that’ – and then you have four mouthfuls, the exciting topping is GONE, and all you have is three miles of LEAVES to get through.
Gosh I’ve made myself angry again. Might be time to spill some more stickman blood….
🙂
There is nothing minor about screwed up food. Rage on dear. I’ll rage with you.
YES. Absolutely. Food is so precious, my time eating food is so special to me, that screwed up food has every likelihood to make me INSANE WITH ANGER.
Let us rage together and rid the world of heinous food screw-ups!
he forgot to add “Becky”
What is this clip you have presented to me? It made me forget my rage and chuckle merrily!! It’s hilarious! Is this some niche American offering I haven’t heard of??
And yes, you’re right – ‘Becky nut’ at the end of the list would have been appropriate 🙂
I have in fact just realised that it is a clip from that well-known film ‘Best In Show’. I have heard of this film. I just haven’t seen it. I have just watched the trailer on YouTube. I shall make a point of watching it immediately. I am sorry for my ignorance.
It’s from Christopher Guest’s “Best in Show” – with is HILARIOUS – he’s Sir Christopher Guest too 🙂
He did Spinal Tap, Waiting for Guffman, Best in Show, A Mighty Wind – all mockumentaries. Best in Show is about dog breeders.
Wait, from the picture of the minivan, it seems that Becky IS Stickman?!? How did I not know this??
DAMN. I have blown my cover through careless pictorial representation.
Yes you have.
I’m a fool. A silly, silly fool.
Becky, thanks for letting me experience your genius once again! I love love love this! I had that too many details in a story the other day and I tell ya, I had to walk away, couldn’t take it. It’s harder too when everyone plays along and there’s lots of laughing, but the story still untold.
It seems the irrelevant details in stories has touched a chord with everyone! It’s WORSE when other people laugh at the irrelevant details. We can only assume that those laughers are also guilty of spouting irrelevant detail in their own stories. And so the world turns.
Glad you enjoyed it 🙂
I feel your pain about the sandwich, my friend. I cannot being to express how many times I, too, have been suckered into believing I had the perfect lunchtime meal only to discover that there had been complete and utter disregard for the proper laying out of the meats and cheeses.
MADNESS.
I also dislike when people scrape their teeth on eating utensils. WHY DO YOU LIKE GETTING MICROSCOPIC METAL SHAVINGS IN YOUR MOUTH?! WHY!?
YES, FEEL THE RAGE!! These people are SWINES of the highest order and should be stopped.
Christ I’m so angry right now. I’d love a sandwich to calm my nerves but I fear it would just bring back terrible memories.
I was nodding furiously – furiously! along with this whole post, especially that last, irrelevant details bit … and then I checked my phone and noticed the battery was low, but I couldn’t find my charger, I must’ve lent it to my sister on Saturday, because we had lunch, or was it dinner ….
I KID, I KID !!! I would never do that to you !!! 😀
I know you wouldn’t, Amb. I know you wouldn’t.
And I’m glad you nodded furiously, and I’m glad the irrelevant details bit made you nod even more furiously, as it seems to have done with a lot of other people!
Oh Jesus, I actually do the story telling thing! Not on purpose, or maliciously, but i’ll stop right away. Hilarious little pick me up on my suicide Tuesday
STOP DOING IT!! At least maybe next time you find yourself doing you;ll notice that glint of rage in your friend’s eye …. 🙂
Glad it made you laugh on suicide Tuesday 🙂
Quite.
🙂
OMG! That last one is SO my husband! I have finally got past the point of propriety and am just like, “Dude, it doesn’t matter! Get on with it!” lol.
Similar to your sandwich problem, I got one of those “Girlled Flatbread” deals from Dominos one time. When I hubby brought our carryout home, I was so pissed; if I hadn’t been so hungry, I’d have taken it back. Billed as a special sort of ‘cheese steak’, the inside looked like it had HALF a STEAK-UM skattered over the 8 inch sandwich bread. At least the bread was yummy….
Well thank GOD the bread was yummy, but did you order that particular food item becuase of the bread? NO!! You ordered it because of the steak!! AND THERE WAS ONLY HALF A STEAK!!! FOOD MANUFACTURERS, STOP BEING TIGHT BASTARDS!
Sorry, I just get upset about these things.
And please continue to tell your husband to get on with his stories. If we can coach just one person onto the narrative straight and narrow, that’ll be one less person we have to listen to.
🙂
Oh, you’re right…but like I said, I was really hungry…so I settled for the bread. LOL
Well, desperate times call for desperate measures.
Lol, this was beyond awesome! I love that we have a name for this phenomenon now: ‘Moments of Inexplicable and Disproportionate Rage at Minor Incidents’ 😀
Storytellers who give you every single detail, big or small…OMG! I want to strangle those people. Or maybe not strangle, maybe just smack them silly. No, definitely strangle. Or wait… Lol.
I LOVE how everyone has related to the irrelevant details thing – except for the fact that it highlights just how many poor storytellers there are in this world!
Strangle away, Lils. Strangle away.
I had a grandma who read out every sign. I used to complain to my parents “please don’t sit me in the back seat with Grandma!” Not only did she read off every sign, he had to pat my knee too. Then she would just leave her hand on my knee. No pat, no squeeze, she just rested it there. And as a teenager, I wanted to just scream! But because you are trying to be respectful and loving, you let the hand just sit there on your knee, while inside you are seething!
Love love love the post. Made me laugh after a hard day.
I think it’s definitely an age thing to read out every sign. My sister and I have already warned our parents about the impending habit. As soon as they start doing it, we may have to remove them to a remote island.
The hand resting on the knee debacle is awful. I know exactly what you mean. It goes past the moment when you can tactfully remove it without causing a scene, and then you just have to ride it out. An elderly gentleman friend of my mother’s did that to me just the other day. Grasped my hand, squeezed it, rested it on his upper tight. My knuckle was against the bulge of his penis. He still held on to my hand. I couldn’t move it. I couldn’t move it. I sat there with my knuckle against an elderly man’s penis. This could have been sexual harassment, but alas, I’m not sure who was the guilty party…
Bahahaha!
Thank you for your sympathy. 🙂
I love love LOVE your take on this. And Stickman waving!
Stickman loves waving 🙂
Thanks for reading!
I loved the stickperson you in the back of the car. Brilliant how perfectly you captured the emotion.
Thank you! And thanks for reading!
A few coping strategies for the unnecessary detail thing (it’s ok to use these, I’m a psychologist!):
– Get up, ask the speaker politely to call you when the important part of the story is just about to come up, smile and go make yourself a hot drink.
– As them to start a little earlier in the story, like right after the Big Bang, because that’ll add some wicked, philosophical “EVERYTHING EVER lead to that single moment” perspective to the story.
– stop them – again: politely!- to tell them that you’re going to make a “meeep” sound everytime they say something irrelevant to the story. Then let them proceed and go “meeep” at ever unecessary detail. “Meeep” is considered as unpleasant by most people, so it’ll serve nicely as a counterconditioning tool… It’ll condition the shit out of them.
– And this is the one I use most often: when someone starts going into unnecessary detail, tilt your head back with one quick movement, let your jaw drop and start snoring violently. That usually does the trick.
I hope this will help. No, actually, I know that all of these work. You can thank me by writing more.
I LOVE this. My sister is a trainee psychologist, and she also regularly uses the phrase ‘condition the shit out of them’, which gives me utter faith in the psychology profession.
Your advice is invaluable. I particularly like the ‘MEEP’ point, and the snoring violently advice. Even the most socially unaware of humans can’t fail to be surprised by the sudden acute somnolence of their talking partner. I shall adopt all points with immediate effect, and I shall let you know how I get on.
I can’t thank you enough for your advice. I shall indeed show my gratitude by writing more and more and more. 🙂
This is the best advice ever. I have always just chosen to gesticulate with a rolling motion as the person speaks. The universal hand signal for “get the hell on with it”. But oddly, what it usually achieves is the person simply SPEAKS FASTER and doesn’t actually edit the story. Now I have MEEP.
SO true. And the MEEP advice is indeed brilliant. I’ve already used it at least 34 times today and now have no friends.
Becky, first off, welcome back from the netherworld of hopefully writing that fab book we’ll all be buying. Secondly, I have yet to see (unless I missed it) and moral to this story. Boil an egg or two, butter some bread, slap it together and make a damn tasty sandwich yourself. My sandwich criteria is never to buy anything that I know I can make better at home. This list also includes tuna and salmon and on certain days perhaps chicken salad. Love saaahrie’s snoring idea for when the long winded story is being told. I shall have to pass this on to my amigos for when I start telling a tale…yes, I’m in recovery for long winded stories. 🙂
You’re so right. The moral of the story is MAKE MY OWN. I’m ashamed of my own idiocy.
Normally I do not buy shop sandwiches, but I was desperately hungry and ‘on the go’, but that is no excuse.
Sorry to hear you’re in recovery… but at least it’s a recovery 🙂
Complicated clothes are my nemesis! There is nothing that enrages me more than taking a delightful little frock into the dressing room, stripping down to my skivvies, taking it off the hanger, and then having no idea how on earth to get it on. Stupid me then tried to put it on. I inevitably fail miserably and find myself stuck in the dress. On multiple occasions (usually at Anthropologie), I get myself so entangled in the dress that, in a fury of expletives and sweat, I have to summon some poor sales clerk into the dressing room with my to try to disentangle me.
It is the stuff of nightmares.
Absolutely. And it’s so UNNECESSARY. Who makes them? Why would you make a garment that can only be worn by plastic window models and perhaps 0.01% of women whose bodies are malleable enough? WHY?????
Nightmares indeed.
Becky – we share many common rage inducing things… truly. The people rifling through their pockets at the ticket booth should be cause for justifiable homicide. I don’t normally shill my own blog posts on others, but you might enjoy the series of driver stickers I invented. That post came out of road rage that causes a huge vein to pulse visible in my temple every single day. I think you could give stickers to people along the same lines. The story teller with the bag of stupid unnecessary details for instance, can get a big sticker that says “don’t ask me to talk.. truly you will want to jab a fork in your eye within moments”. See? Stickers are a public service!
My boyfriend is KING of telling long stories, and no matter how much I pick on him about it, he just keeps doing it… it’s almost become one of the things I love about him (ironic, huh?! ;))
So, I’ve sent this post to him so he can see just how infuriating it can be LOL
Thanks for my giggle today 😉
The only thing I disagree with here is machine gunning baby meerkats. There could be no amount of rage that would ever induce me to doing such things. Machine gunning the meandering storyteller on the other hand is highly reasonable, and possibly encouraged.
I have to add the hesitant story teller to this. People who start to say something and wait five hours to finish the sentence, by which time I’ve walked away and have to come back and ask them to repeat. I’ve lost weeks of my life in this fashion!!
Now… what about the body in the airing cupboard???
Unfortunately the mechanics of sandwich construction dictate that one MUST pile all the stuff in the middle and taper the quantity towards the edges (the “pile” effect) as due to the laws of gravity it is actually impossible to achieve a consistent overall “thickness” of filling from edge to edge, UNLESS one utilises a proprietary fit for purpose sandwich filling edge retention border thingy to keep everything in its place during said sandwich construction.
One also needs to enlist the use of a suitably sized cutting tool which fits inside the sandwich filling edge retention border thingy on the diagonal or straight line (as per personal preference) which can then perform the cut whilst the sandwich and filling are still within the thingy.
Only then can the perfectly constructed sandwich with even filling layer be extricated from the thingy and wrapped.
Unfortunately most sandwich shops do not own such a device.
Your rage is spot on! I just wanted to thank you for your thoughts and that I’ve nominated you for The Versatile Blogger award. You can catch the post here: http://craftmanicmommy.wordpress.com/2013/09/12/awards-what-no-way/
Wow, thank you so much! I really appreciate it 🙂
My husband has always told stories with irrelavent details and lenghty, brain melting pauses. He now has a medical issue which makes it worse. In sickness and in health, I said. But I didn’t say I wouldn’t stab you in the eyeball if you don’t get to the point soon, honey.
Haha! Keep telling him, he might just listen! I was told a story today that involved 7 – yes 7 – minutes of description of a door. The story wasn’t even about a door. It was about something completely irrelevant. I think some of my brain dribbled out of my ears.
Thank you for reading 🙂
So funny! I always get stuck behind the person who stands waiting for the bus for 10 minutes, steps on the bus and spends 5 minutes searching for change. Can I narrate for my podcast?
Yes, yes, and yes. Especially the unnecessarily reading things out loud. I know people like that. I want to say, “Sure enough… Boyd’s Dry Cleaning! How did that in ANY WAY enhance our day to note that aloud?” And people who ramble on irrelevant details in stories. I’ve gotten to the point where I actually hurry them along with, “Well, whatever color the boat was, it doesn’t really matter. So then you threw him a life preserver, and….?” Being a jerk sometimes helps to dispel the rage. Thanks for the laugh!
Oh, the colour of things in stories is TOTALLY IRRELEVANT!! WHY CAN PEOPLE NOT SEE THIS???!!! And you are in no way a jerk for hurrying them along. Life is too short to listen to waffle.
Thank you for reading 🙂
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