Sunday, December 18, 2011

Bad Choices



A friend of mine recently posted to facebook that she had lost her iPhone. More critically, someone in the neighborhood had found the phone and they're using it! Apparently she's confronted them, thanks to Find My Phone, but the party has denied their having possession.  Incredibly, this is a well-to-do neighborhood, the type where folks hosts high end political fundraisers and the like. Who knows, maybe the thief is in foreclosure and financial dire straits. Be that as it may, it sucks. It's nice these phones have the smarts to let you lock out your info and shut them down but you still have the hassle of replacing the thing and restoring the data, providing you're the type that backs up your data.

The part that is funny about this is that, in her post, she writes, "I get so disappointed when people make bad choices." I don't think there is a more magnanimous way of stating it. I would have said something more akin to, "I hate a**holes."

"You're making bad choices" is the new "Stop or you're going to get a spanking!" or, "Don't make me stop this car!!" In the adult world it is more akin to, "You're well on your way to being fired" or, "I'm about to punch you," or, as in the example above, "You're acting like a complete jerk."  In short, it is the p.c. way of telling someone you hate what they're doing/did.

The phrase drives me crazy. My wife uses it with Evan. I still prefer, "Stop it!," "No!," or plain ol' "Don't do that." With adults I still stick with the old standby, "You're being an ass."

When it comes to making bad choices I like to think my buying a 1996 Impala SS was a bad choice. Or the 1955 Ford Ranch Wagon. Or buying pull-on ankle boots a few years back. Those were bad choices. My son not turning off the T.V. when asked is misbehaving. Wearing flip-flops on a cold and rainy day is a bad choice. An adult buying a Hello Kitty case for their iPhone is a bad choice. Stealing someone's phone is being an ass.

1 comment:

  1. I never managed to use the p.c. phrases with my kids, which explains why they swear like truck drivers. Like mother, like sons. I couldn't be prouder. Great blog. You made a good choice here.

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