How To Become a Grumpy Old Man (Or Woman) in 2 Easy Steps

You gotta get over the urge to be “nice”…

Like a lot of misguided people I grew up wanting to be thought of as “nice” and “easy to get along with,” but through a series of disappointing encounters with con men, scam artists and jerks (and I’m talking about people I’m related to) have developed a different attitude because it turns out being “nice” and “easy to get along with” is a weakness that the Human Barracudas of the World try to exploit and if you don’t believe me yet, just keep reading.

The internet has provided new and exciting ways to get screwed over by complete strangers and we’ll get to those momentarily, but for now we’ll start with a classic.  

Spare change?

I’ve got no idea who came up with the notion of “spare change” because it makes it sound like money you were about to set on fire or throw in a dumpster because you were tired of walking around with it in your pocket.

And if you refuse to part with your “spare change” or don’t part with enough “spare change” the person who asks for it might try to make you feel like an asshole, but if you think about it (I have and you should) they’re the ones who don’t want to work, so instead they ask you to take your money out of your pocket and give it to them, so who’s the real asshole?

(For the moment let’s ignore that fact that it’s entirely possible that you’re both assholes, which considering my personal experience is not only entirely possible, but likely.)

And if the person who wants your money has gone to the trouble to make a cardboard sign and sits at the same spot every day, asking for your money isn’t a temporary “help-me-out-cuz-I’m-down-on-my-luck” situation; asking for your money is a career.

I got over giving money to strangers back when cell phones were beginning to be a thing and I didn’t own one yet, but the down-on-his-luck guy asking me for my “spare change” got a call on his cell phone.

Will you give your “Fair Share”?

Back when I arrived in Kansas City and went to work for the Star I had to fill out a bunch of forms and one of them was from United Way wanting to know just how much of my salary I was planning to give them.

Which is bad enough, but it also pissed me off that they encouraged me to give my “Fair Share” because that label implies that it’s up to them to decide what’s “fair” which is ridiculous because some people have kids to feed or sick mothers to take care of or plans to spend a sizeable amount of his income on beer and BBQ and the occasional line of coke, once he figures out who to ask about that.

(Hey, get off my back, it was the eighties.)

Nevertheless, I signed up for my “Fair Share” because “Cheap Bastard” was not an option on the form.

But then the United Way CEO got convicted of conspiracy to defraud, mail fraud, wire fraud, transportation of fraudulently acquired property, engaging in monetary transactions in unlawful activity, filing false tax returns and aiding in the filing of false tax returns.

All of this is according to the internet, but in his spare time apparently he was banging his secretary and a few other unlucky United Way employees and was also accused of sexual harassing other less-pliable United Way office workers. Seeing a break in his busy schedule, he also had an affair with a woman he met on a plane, until he met her little sister and then he started pursuing her even though he was 59 and she was 17.

So you could call it a May/December romance as long as you’re talking about May of 1970 and December of 1812.

He also used a United Way subsidiary to buy a condominium which he used to bang whoever he could convince to bang him and right about there I thought there was an awful lot of banging going on that didn’t include me and I just wanted my “Fair Share.”

So now when some charity asks for my money I figure I don’t know them and don’t know what hijinks their executives get up to and if they want me to trust them they needed to be above suspicion like Caesar’s Wife, but they weren’t and now I think Caesar’s Wife might’ve been busy banging Brutus or Marc Antony and don’t feel the need to help finance that.

After that United Way experience, I started selling my cartoon originals and gave the money to a local charity – Project Warmth, they help people in need survive the winter – because I knew the people involved and was pretty sure they weren’t embezzling enough money to finance a “love nest” or even a “like nest.”

Sign my petition?

I go to my local grocery store at least once a week and odds are about 50-50 someone will be standing outside the entrance with a clipboard asking for a moment of my time which will turn into several moments while they explain the importance of saving marijuana or legalizing the whales or supplying snorkels to dolphins with a learning disability.

And then they want you to sign their petition and give them your home address, phone number, email address and a list of tattoos and distinguishing birthmarks so they can save you a lot of trouble and start bugging you at home.

I got over signing petitions when a local “gadfly” (which is how prissy editorial writers refer to “notorious assholes”) got caught using his petitions to collect information on attractive women and I’m just now realizing how often I’ve used the word “asshole” while talking about this subject and if I were you I’d brace myself because it seems appropriate and I’m not 100% sure I’m done using it.  

Can I bum a cigarette?

One of my sons lives in LA and used to live in Hollywood which is Panhandler Central and once remarked Hollywood was the only place in the United States you could accidentally step in shit and hope it was dog shit.

You just haven’t lived until you see a bum relieve himself on Angela Lansbury’s Hollywood Boulevard Walk of Fame Star.

My son used to smoke, but learned to never to do it while displaying a pack of cigarettes because once he lit up, the Cigarette-less Bums of Hollywood (which sounds like a Netflix documentary I would never watch) would head his way to ask for a cigarette and he said that experience taught him how women must feel when they see some dude making a beeline to hit on them, and if they’re a really sneaky bum, ask them to sign a petition.    

Would you send me a friend request?

Back before I realized how many sharks are swimming in the depths of the internet, I received a Facebook message from a woman asking if she could ask me a question, which if you think about it – and unfortunately I didn’t – she’d already done.

Being a naïve blockhead I wrote back and said sure.

She then immediately suggested that we carry on what was sure to be a deeply meaningful conversation on another social media platform which I wasn’t on.

I thought WTF? and googled why someone would ask you to do that and turns out it’s one of the first signs of internet fraud because the fraudster wants to get you on a platform with fewer restrictions and they don’t want the fake profile they created banned from Facebook and they also might send you a link that you need to click on which will steal all your information and if at all possible, your first-born male child.

So I didn’t fall for it, but the fake Facebook profile was from a young Asian woman and some algorithm created by The Pirates of the Caribbean noted that I had responded to an Asian woman and ever since then I’ve been bombarded by Facebook messages and friend requests from (in no particular order and in a very incomplete list) young Asian women named:

Carla Li, Gertie Smith, Sofia Lee, Anlin Vigos, Ella Noland, Lucy Smith, Meimei Smith, Scarlett Lee, Some Chinese Symbols I Don’t Understand, Daisy Wang, Liz Lee, Anthea Zhang, Carla Li, (and what I assume to be her cousin) Janey Li, Kelly Tan, Kathy Emily, Lizz Qu, Oun Dany (I think by this point they were just pulling letters out of a hat) and Michelle Yeoh.

Just kidding.

Michelle Yeoh did not send me a Facebook friend request, but if she did I’d probably turn her down because I’d think she was another phony.

I no longer respond to friend requests unless I actually know the person and at this stage of my life I already know way too many people and don’t want any new friends who might want my spare change, a free cigarette or have a petition that needs signing.  

Would you “like” my business?

Just in case you hadn’t noticed, we all now have jobs promoting other people’s businesses and when I’m on Facebook I get regular requests to “like” businesses I’ve never been to or heard of and I’d call this stupid, but I recently spent some time with a friend who wouldn’t go to a restaurant unless it had enough “likes” on social media, which is dumb because if my experience is any indication, many of those “likes” are from people who never actually ate there.

Would you answer your phone?

As you probably already know, the people who collect your information are selling it to others and that explains why you get a bunch of phone calls about college loans you never took out and offers to buy the house you’re not selling and limited time offers you don’t give a rat’s ass about and the calls tend to come in bunches because someone just sold your phone number to a new bunch of scam artists.

These days I don’t answer my phone unless I recognize the number which really cuts down on my phone calls because I no longer know anybody’s number including my mother’s and if she calls and my phone does not say “MOM” I’m not answering.

So if “MOM” has an emergency and she’s calling from one of the two pay phones that still exist in the United States, she better leave a message and I’ll call her back unless she needs some spare change and then she’s got no shot.

Now here’s what Jerry Seinfeld thinks about those telemarketing calls:

Would you answer your door?

It used to be simple courtesy to answer your front door if somebody knocked on it, but if I look out the window first (which I always do these days) and you’re carrying a clipboard, you got no chance of me answering my door unless you are also holding a large package and arrived in a FedEx delivery van.  

Just because you chose to bother me at home I don’t feel any responsibility to answer my door and give you the 90 seconds it will take me to convince you I’m not interested in whatever you’re selling or promoting because if I was interested I would have already bought that or signed up for that.

When someone has to point out a need you have that you were previously unaware of, there’s a good chance you don’t really have that need. 

In Conclusion

So the first step in becoming a Grumpy Old Man (Or Woman) is living long enough to be considered old and I can’t help you with that. As Steve Martin used to say when he promised to teach his fans how to make a million dollars and pay no taxes:

“First, you get a million dollars.”

So assuming you’ve accomplished that first step on your own, the second step in becoming grumpy is realizing a bunch of jerks are trying to take advantage of your tendency to be “nice,” but if they feel no obligation to be “nice” you shouldn’t either.

As the above essay indicates, I now qualify as a Grumpy Old Man, but in my defense:

I didn’t start out that way.