"So you think you've got me all figured out?, think you know what this head is all about?, try to understand, try to comprehend the actions in my ways"
- Strung Out, Gearbox (Suburban Teenage Wasteland Blues, 1996)
A word of advice; If you are going to question the ways one goes about their business, make sure you have the right credentials first.
My very close friend called me the other evening, somewhat flustered. This was definitely a big deal, because that call happened to have come from Australia. Actually, it started when I initially received a text containing nothing except the pseudonym she uses when she is in such situations. We often use these amusing (well, to us, anyway) pseudonyms as a way of laughing at ourselves to lighten the mood when we are in bitter, livid or salty moods. But I digress...
Anyway, VCF had just been on the receiving end of a grilling from another friend, for reasons no fault of her own, and eventually (in a totally irrelevant twist might I add) had her credibility questioned as a parent. The thing that frustrated VCF the most was that aforementioned friend was not a parent, and therefore unqualified to question anything relating to children, especially her awesome little man. I echoed her sentiments
VCF's plight got me thinking, and reminded me of a similar situation I was in a year or so prior.
If you drive a vehicle, chances are you have had to deal with a backseat driver at some part of your time behind the wheel. I happened to be told by one expert backseat driver that I was the worst driver that they'd ever had the displeasure of riding along with. Their qualms included driving too fast (right on the speed limit), too close to the center line, and erratic movement with the steering wheel.
Maybe I would have taken these complaints on board, if
a) I was aware of such faults, and
b) IF THAT DRIVER ACTUALLY HAD A DRIVERS LICENSE!
That person in question has never asked for a ride since.
The Audacity of some people....
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