One day
Ter spoke to me from the kitchen. “You may have noticed the box of little meat
pies in the freezer.”
I
hadn’t, so without looking up from my crossword, I replied, “I don’t look on
the upper shelf.”
“It’s
not on the upper shelf,” she said. “It’s on the lower shelf, with your tea
treats.”
Wait
a minute. That’s my go-to shelf, where Ziploc bags of cookies, tarts, brownies
and muffins are stacked one atop the other. I go in there twice a day, yet I
had seen no box of little meat pies.
I
finally looked up at her, puzzling. “Under the pizza crust?”
“No,”
she said patiently, “on top of the muffins.”
I had
taken out a muffin for breakfast the previous day. You would think I’d have
noticed a sizeable box of little meat pies, but nope. I hadn’t.
I
can’t even say that was a one-off. A week or two earlier, I’d spied a box of
apple cinnamon Cheerios next to the box of originals on top of the fridge and
asked Ter when she had bought it.
“Two
days ago,” she said.
I’d eaten
a bowl of originals that morning and not seen the bright green box standing
beside the bright yellow one? Really? Really?
If
I’m not looking for it, apparently I won’t see it. This applies to more than
meat pies and cereal boxes, incidentally. In this era of extreme hyper-sensitivity
(hyper-hyper-sensitivity?), eventually someone somewhere will take offense at
something you say or do. Some folks are so touchy that they’ll even take
offense on behalf of others, without consulting those others, by the way, but
merely on the presumption that others might be offended if they knew what had
been said or done. The self-appointed PC police go digging for titbits to be
offended about, then spread the word. People get upset about things they had no
idea existed. Sometimes that’s good. We must be aware of what we can change for
the betterment of all. At its worst, however, it’s petty, destructive,
frustrating, unproductive, or just plain stupid.
Which
brings me to my point:
Taking
offense is a choice. If I’m not looking to be offended, insulted or pissed off,
chances are I won’t be offended, insulted or pissed off. I admit, personal
circumstances can make me more sensitive than usual—being human is a tougher
gig than any of us imagined when we signed up for it—but in the long run, the decision
to be offended is mine, no matter what the perpetrator’s intent.
Forget
ignorance. Oblivion is bliss.
