There are some people who seem to dilly-dally their way through life, clogging up the rest of society with their indecisiveness, their selfishness and their overall stupidity. Yes, there are a lot of stupid people, but these ones in particular directly affect the rest of us, especially when we are in line waiting to conduct some form of business or transaction. These people are the reason that lines exist in the first place. If it weren’t for them we wouldn’t need fast food restaurants or Quickie Marts because everything would be smooth and streamlined, flowing effortlessly in a virtual utopia of consumer efficiency and decision-making. To them, venturing out of their home is just one big guessing game. They don’t seem to know where they are, what they want and what they are even doing out of the house at this time of day. How these people made it this far in life without running themselves over with their own cars is beyond me.
They are the Nitwits of our society. Slow and boneheaded in every aspect of humanity, holding up progress with their confused and imbecilic ideas, believing that they can just wing it when it comes to simple commerce. These are people whose brains are in perpetual first gear on the freeway of life, and a great many of them seem to be hopelessly stuck in ‘park’. They are the ones who stop in the middle of the street because they are lost, rather than pull over to the side of the road and consult their map and try and figure out where they are in life. They have difficulty understanding complex choices like ‘Would you like large, medium or small?’, to which their response is, ‘How big is the large?’ One could probably expect to hear them ask ‘Where do babies come from?’ and ‘Why is the sky blue?’ in the same conversation.
They are overwhelmed with choices. Their brains cannot handle multiple tasks. They are the people for whom the term ‘one at a time’ was invented. In Biblical times Nitwits were considered to be a nuisance and were usually stoned to death out of sheer frustration and annoyance by people who waited behind them at the market for several hours while the Nitwits tried to decide whether to buy a sack of dates or a baby goat.
Nitwits are slowly killing the rest of us with their “not-knowing-how-to-do-anything-in-life” way of life. I think these are the same people who merge onto the freeway at 12 miles an hour, causing other cars behind them to screech to a virtual halt or swerve out of the way, knocking other cars off the road, as the Nitwit happily listens to a loop of Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious in their head.
At restaurants or coffee shops they are unclear on what to order when it is finally their turn. There is nothing more excruciating and painful than ending up behind one of these human snails in line at a Starbucks and watch them try to figure out whether they want an iced latte caramel mochaccino with candy sprinkles or a blended mocha frappuccino latte with chocolate swirls, all while asking if the tomato and basil pesto sandwiches are gluten free. I imagine this is what Purgatory is like.
In restaurants they consume vast quantities of valuable time with their complicated and nit-picky ordering. They want the waiter to whittle and carve and chisel the menu down to their obnoxiously finicky and fuss-budgety liking, turning the chef’s creations into a dumbed-down version of high school cafeteria food.
They are the people at the grocery store who watch the checker scan their enormous order, scan all of their coupons, see the total, make a ‘wow’ face and then decide to write a check, which, of course, they cannot find.
Nitwits like to linger at the front of bank lines and bombard the bank teller with questions about their account and about the American banking system in general, having absolutely zero knowledge in either subject. The tellers often need extra help with the Nitwit’s asinine questions and must then consult other tellers, taking those resources away from other customers who are prepared and simply want nothing more than to get the hell out of there, join a street gang, commit a major crime and be willingly sent to prison for the rest of their lives in the hopes that they would never have to experience anything that hellish ever again.
It must be pure hell at a Nitwit’s home when it comes time to decide whether to take a bath or take a shower or to simply rinse off with the garden hose out in the backyard. A baby Nitwit must be particularly frustrating at breast-feeding time when the infant, unable to communicate yet, begins crying at the lack of choices they have and wonders if their mother has a third nipple somewhere they can try.
It is not lame to know what you want beforehand. It is not lame to be prepared. It is not lame to be considerate of people behind you and perhaps try and facilitate moving things along in life. You know what is lame? Being blind to everything around you as you walk out your front door. Have a plan. Have a goal. For people who can’t handle more than one thing at a time, don’t try to decide what type of coffee you want on the fly. Plan it beforehand. Write it down and then memorize it at home. Try ordering to yourself in the mirror. If it proves to be too difficult, give a couple of bucks to a Cub Scout and have them order for you. If that doesn’t work then maybe a pack of stray dogs ordering your coffee will prove to be more fruitful. If you still find success elusive, then perhaps it would be best for all of us if you just stayed at home and drank tap water while watching reruns of Gilligan’s Island, allowing the rest of us got on with our lives unmolested by you and your indecisiveness, you Nitwit.
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