Pet Peeves

An Unacknowledged Pleasure

Photo by Diego PH on Unsplash

Many annoyances are widely experienced and lamented. The limbo of being on telephone hold; the public toilet seat that’s dripping wet; the driver who cuts in front of you, risking an accident, to save himself two seconds. These are common indignities leading to common complaints.

But most people also have their own private bugaboos, their personal anathemas, their own pet peeves.

I asked a good friend what hers was and she texted back: “People who state their opinion without knowing anything, and when you start giving them information change the subject!” I agree that this is utterly maddening, but it’s somehow too large and infuriating to be a pet peeve. I think a pet peeve has to be petty!

So I recognize that my irritation at certain objects and behaviors is disproportionate to the offense, but I cannot help myself bristling when confronted with certain things.

My number one pet peeve is canning or Mason jars used as drinking glasses. This inspires my ire on more than one level. First of all, they always have a thick rim, which I detest. I much prefer to drink from a thin-rimmed cup or glass. Even worse, the glass at the canning jar rim has tracks for screwing on those lids which will never be used: ridges that assail the lips. So one endures discomfort for no reason at all.

I also object to their faux poverty: As if the restaurant can’t afford proper glasses but must resort to canning jars for their customers, who are paying more than fifty dollars a meal.  

Adding insult to injury are those Mason jar glasses onto which are affixed handles, like beer steins! So now there isn’t even the pretext that these are “really” jars: They are simply ugly, uncomfortable, deliberately (mis)designed glasses. No wonder they trigger my rage!

Another pet peeve is also restaurant related. I’m a slow eater, so others are often finished before me. Then the server will say, even as my fork is approaching my mouth: “Are you still working on that?”  First, it’s self-evident. Second, it implies that this fine, expensive meal I’m enjoying is somehow a chore, something to work on. My mouth is too full to retort: “I’m not working on it, I’m savoring it!”

Because I’m a writer, many of my pet peeves have to do with words. At some point in the past few years, “It’s gonna be” has usurped “It’s.” So the cashier will say, “It’s gonna be $89.50.” I have argued, all right murmured, “It’s not gonna be. It is $89.50.” But it doesn’t seem worth getting riled up about. Does that stop me from fuming, however? It does not.

Recently I asked about the location of the ladies room. “It’s gonna be in the back, on the left.” To which I replied, “Yes, but where is it now?” I was met with a blank stare, so I didn’t pursue the matter. Besides, I had to use that ladies room!

Another language change which drives me crazy is the new way to say “You’re welcome”—which is, of course, “No problem.” If I get change at the supermarket and automatically say “Thank you” to the cashier, the response is usually, “No problem.” This just infuriates me because it injects “problem” to this mundane transaction. By saying, “No problem,” the cashier implies it could indeed be a problem. Yet she is only giving me change—which seems not at all problematic!

Your pet peeves are different, no doubt, but did you ever realize that they may actually give you some pleasure? Somehow, when confronted with a pet peeve, we feel confirmed in ourselves, almost happy to be indignant and irritated: this is who we are! Our pet peeves seem to highlight our individuality.

And surely, although we may not have acknowledged this, we are attached to them and fond of them. That’s why they’re our “pet” peeves.