What are some things people do that just kills your vibe?

Negative energy, dissing anyone for being different, not accepting others . I guess intolerance in anything.

When my boss moans about how the children we work with are just criminal in behavior and then treats them as such. He has no idea what criminal is and even if the kids are troubled, that is not something you say about children. Sure, I don’t like kids and don’t want any of my own, but the kids should be treated as humans, not inmates. They haven’t done anything illegal.

Yeah, I know he’s not deliberately trying to dampen my day, but it gets me in a fairly foul mood.

One thing that I do know that someone has done to deliberately dampen my day was my mother gossiping to me about my father, my father’s side of the family, and her “friends.” She knows I loathe listening to her rant for hours on end and she always did it whenever I seemed to be in a better mood than her.

When someone you care about thoughtlessly blows you off…

Negativity gets me. When you’re all excited and enthusiastic about something and they say something like ‘I can’t do that because…’ and they say this to every suggestion or ‘it won’t work’ or ‘nobody will want to do that’ or something equally dull and negative. Or people who tell you in excruciating detail how they feel and it’s all depressing.

When I try to contribute something to a community, only to be rejected as if what I did was some kind of a joke.

@Mimishu1995 I hope you don’t mean Fluther. We don’t think of you as anything but a good contributor to this community.

@chyna No. I never mean Fluther. I was thinking about my high school class which was full of arrogant students who thought their opinions were the best.

When you telephone someone and they say “Oh, it’s you.”

People who showboat and belittle others at the workplace, despite the fact that their tasks require no special skills or abilities. It’s like they think they’ll get some special reward or pat on the back for treating others negatively or for showboating, and for something that’s stupid on top of that. Not all places I had worked at did I have to deal with people like this, but at this current desperation job I’m working at I am. Work is a good fraction of many people’s lives, so it should be at least bearable in my opinion.

Making me take a field sobriety test as soon as my car party gets started. ;-(

* People who finish my sentences or supply a word or name when I can’t immediately recall it
* People who look past me and scan the room when I’m talking directly to them
* People who defend the right to bear arms
* People who forward jokes off the Internet (especially when I’m one of a dozen people I don’t know
* People who talk incessantly about their medical woes

Assume guilt before innocence, like after hearing only one side of a story.

The damper isn’t deliberate or malevolent ( except for the little criminals coming and going from the boys’ and girls’ club down the block in the Summertime) The great irritant in my life is the doorbell. The elections are here, so things are really out of hand. There’s a Jehovah’s Witness hall down on Mission, a block from here. Now apparently the various ethnic communities of the faith all use the same hall or temple? They leave the hall evidently inspired and “ding dong”. If I’m upstairs, I can ramble to the living room window to determine whether the culprits are deserving of the pail of urine I keep handy (just one of my fantasies). It’s a pointless fantasy. The truth is, it’s impossible to be mean to people so devout that they are committed to a lifetime of doors slamming in their faces. So it’s a polite “no thank you” to the 2 (it’s always 2) smiling faces. They’re always immaculately attired, and depending on the ethnicity the comeback from them is “Are there any Chinese, Spanish, Tagalog, etc. speakers in the household?” Once more, I have to reign in the fantasies, because I’ve developed a talent for some truly obscene accent free invectives in Spanish, Mandarin, Cantonese or Tagalog. Last week, to my horror, a new chilling development appeared at the door. I was downstairs, with no way of determining who was assaulting the bell without opening the door. I opened the door to confront 2 attractive well dressed Fillipnas peering at me through the prison grade iron gate deliberately designed to dispel any illusions of “welcome” The gate separates the foyer from the front door which means there is a full, cold 4 foot impersonal space between me and visitors. The women, a sprite 60 year old and her equally spry 80 year old mother went immediately into their spiel, giggling like schoolgirls. “We’re from Corpus Christi, and we are here to—-” I Interrupted them startled with fright. “The Catholic parish sent you here to assault me?” The elder one gave me that look the nuns would bestow in grade school. It was that “you’re lucky you punk that this iron gate prevents me from grabbing you by your insolent ear!” The younger one bubbled on not one bit phased. I then blurted out “How old are you 2?”
the young one giggled “I’m 60”. The older one surveyed me the way a hawk would a mouse and replied in a level tone befitting a professional gunslinger “I’m 80”. It was delivered with the implied “I’m 80 but I’ll kick your rude ass.” I was still flustered and declared that I thought they were Witnesses because the Catholics had the decency heretofore to leave me alone. The gunslinger cracked “Those days are over pal”. Simultaneously the young one reached into her briefcase to haul out pamphlets, while the gunslinger produced from (I swear I never saw her hand move) nowhere, a clipboard. The young one “We’re going through the neighborhood to familiarize our neighbors with our church and the work we do.” The gunslinger back pedaled from the gate to read the number on the house, writing it down on the clipboard, she inquired “what’s your name?” straining to omit the word “punk” from the end of the question. “I’m not giving you my name!” I said. the young one poked the brochures at me through the gate. The gunslinger said “You used the word parish. Are you Catholic?” I was quickly losing it and blurted “Not anymore”, realizing instantly that I had marked myself for doom. “That’s what you think! I told you Charlotte, I can always pick em out.” The young one was now poking the brochures frantically as she bubbled “Mom, you’re amazing!”. The gunslinger, “this one’s gonna need SPECIAL attention.” “I don’t want those pamphlets. I’ll only throw them in the trash” I said to the kid. The kid, face full of enthusiasm, “why don’t we pray together? Let’s say the ‘Our Father’ “It ain’t gonna happen” I shrieked, I’ve gotta go. The gunslinger “Yeah, go back inside and hide. Maybe you’ll find your manners in there.” Then in as chilling an imitation of Schwarzenegger as you can imagine, that 80 year old wisp of a woman leaned in through the bars and declared “I’LL BE BACK!

I have zero tolerance for insensitive *ssholes. They either ruin a great moment or make a terrible situation worse.

My motto: Be soft, kind and loving. But also take nobody’s shit.

God bless you…