Whiners on Facebook
First of all, let me acknowledge the hypocrisy of me complaining about complainers. I understand the risks I’m taking by calling these folks out. “Gawd. It’s been a week of Mondays.” You know the type. You open up a little, they open up, WAY too much? You say something totally provocative like, “How are you?” and they respond with an endless litany of complaints. Complaints about how the coffee guy can’t get the order right, how the bank charges inordinate fees for non-standard ATM machine usage, how their children are crushing their soul.
Genuine Complaints Are Cool, as long as you keep it light
I’m not calling out the occasional righteous complaint. A well-placed complaint can energize people. “If the radio plays Blurred Lines one more time I’m going to go drinking with Mike Tyson.” To be clear, perpetual rainbows and sunshine make my ass twitch as much as overt whiners, but that’s another post for another day.
I mean the people whose Facebook (or, gasp, real life) status updates routinely gravitate towards the mundane complaints we all have, but learn not to externalize. Nobody, and I mean nobody, gives a shit about your terrible airline travel experience. Yes, it’s very important when it’s happening, but the re-tell cannot set you free. It happened. Get over it. My friend who flew stand-by and sat in a Barbie-sized jump seat on a trans-Atlantic flight is allowed to complain, but he knew to keep his update brief and humorous, not focused on the lack of lumbar support or how he’s going to have to see a chiropractor for the next month. Even if that is exactly what happened. We don’t care about the terrible service you received at Olive Garden on your wedding anniversary. We don’t care how stressed you are about any damn thing because we’re also stressed. We live through weather too. So unless you just survived a tornado that leveled your neighborhood, don’t kvetch about the weather. Tired? Are you as tired as the responsible parent of a three month old infant? No? Then shut your trap. Muscles achy? Unless you spent the night in a foxhole on foreign soil, STFU. You know what you should do when you want to lament whatever horrible thing happened to you at the grocery store? Engage your inner monologue. Think the meanest thing you can think of, and then do the unspeakable: don’t post about it. If you’re getting chemo, you get a pass, but folks probably don’t want to hear about how much that totally sucks either.