The Lost Art of Excuse Me

I'm working on trimming my pet peeve list down into the triple digits. As it stands at the moment my list of pet peeves makes War and Peace look like a collection of wise sayings from one of the Kardashian sisters. Working retail too often has me feeling like Sean Penn in a sea of paparazzi and as a result my heartrate is often higher than the IQ of the characters from The Big Bang Theory. And with that I managed to squeeze three pop culture references into two sentences and have earned the right to walk away, fist raised in triumph like Judd Nelson at the end of The Breakfast Club (4 in 3, bitches!).

My pet peeve du jour however is the use, or lack thereof, of 'excuse me'. Now excuse me has the versatility of a linguistic swiss army knife but it's one use in particular that I crave like a pumpkin latte' in the fall: using 'excuse me' to get someone's attention. In my serfdom to the retail industry, I have dozens of interactions with customers on a daily basis. To those who do not, or have not, worked in a similar field you would most likely be shocked by how frequently customers address me without first gaining my attention. Without eye contact and often without me being aware of their presence, they will burst out into any question that flashes across their self-centered cerebral cortex. From inquiring as to the location of the bathroom to asking me to solve complex physics equations, what I am otherwise involved in or where my attention is already directed is irrelevant. To many customers I am an auxiliary character in the personal play that is their lives, lacking any existence beyond waiting on them to grace me with their needs and desires. Meanwhile in my mind I am routinely plotting terrible Shakespearean tragedies upon their persons.

While I have never claimed to be the classiest individual, and my sense of humor is about as high brow as Ashton Kutcher's, I do place a good deal of weight on common courtesy, which is becoming disturbingly 'un'common (zing!). I do not appreciate being addressed without forewarning while already engaged in another task, especially when that task involves a great deal of physical labor or operating of machinery. I do not enjoy having questions barked out from behind me when I'm not even aware that you're there, more or less speaking to me. I may be paid to help you (apparently it's in my employee handbook somewhere and human resources claims it was mentioned during orientation) but I will make it uncomfortably obvious that I am not a fan of your presence on this planet. And when I ask you if you need assistance and you decline, do not be surprised when I ignore you when you wait until I'm 30 feet away to decide you need an answer to a question and don't use the two magical words.

Ah yes, the two words are more magical than anything found in Harry Potter books. Speak them (in a pleasant or respectful tone) and I will happily assist you to the best of my abilities. Address me kindly and I will go above and beyond the requirements of my occupation to help you, as one human being to another. Say "excuse me" with a friendly smile and I will bring the full measure of my physical, intellectual and authoritative capabilites, regardless of how limited, to bear in your best interests. It's a simple but amazing thing. However, the magical words are not interchangeable with other words or noises to the same effect. They are not "hey", "hey you" or even "hey buddy". They are not, and never will be, 'yo'. And if you whistle at me like a dog I will inform you exactly how inappropriate that is before following you to the parking lot and assaulting you with an inflatable Santa Claus.

Thank you for your time and attention. I can only assume due to the national following this blog enjoys I have personally corrected this social issue and can expect nothing but courteous excuse me's for the remainder of my working days.

No inflatable Santa Claus' were harmed during the making of this blog.