Over the past, say, six months or so, I’ve discovered that lots of people insist on informing me of everything going on in their life. Well I guess it’s not just me. It’s anyone within, what most would consider, an unreasonable hearing distance or perhaps stuck in their unfortunate MBA class from 6pm till whenever enough people stand up and walk out.
I can assure you all, I probably don’t care what kind of chicken wings you ate over the weekend and if you prefer them crispy, or that your dog went to the vet. I certainly do not want to watch home videos of your children you sent plunging head first off of a bridge somewhere in Africa with only a frayed bungee cord and the extra $50 insurance you purchased to keep him from bashing his head in. Or discuss what year your kids were born, had the chicken pox, got married, got their last tetanus shot or stopped by for dinner. And let’s just say, after the first time announced, your trips to Vietnam are old news.
I find it disconcerting that anyone could make the assumption that the whole world is concerned and happy to be following along on any day to day activities. And what’s worse, force a classroom full of working adults to suffer through extra hours of mundane story telling.
That being said, I’m skipping class tomorrow and going to see the Yankees in Toronto.
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