I read the Orchids & Onions newspaper column first thing like so many others. I’ll shamefully admit I sometimes skip over orchids for the nitty gritty. Nicey nice is good but I prefer the cantankerous submissions best for a chuckle.
Some days there are only a few complaints, yet towards the end of the week, people become cranky. I’m guessing those in a sour mood are the ones having to work with the general public. I did that for at least ten years and it was a trying experience. “The customer is not always right!”
From my analysis of Orchids & Onions, here lately, it seems that social clubs have gotten their acts together. Folks are no longer complaining like they used to about having to breathe secondhand tobacco smoke, so the clubs either changed their policies or those gripers died off. I don’t belong to a club so I wouldn’t know.
There was a time club members complained about the pecking order within their ranks, or that another member had dissed them. When I say pecking order I mean seniority. It appears some of the older members developed an attitude towards newbies. Perhaps these clubs brought in DEI counselors to help cure this serious problem?
Restaurant food is always good for onions and these days I see many more than in the past. A laugh comes whenever someone makes a cliché gripe such as, “I’ll never patronize that place again!” We’ll never know if they did or not and for the most part, most of us don’t care.
A bad meal while dining out is to be expected on occasion—the same goes for home-cooked. I doubt poor folks in Ethiopia complain about what’s on their plates or if it’s slightly overdone.
Bad driver onions are on the rise and those complaining generally peg it on snowbirds coming back to town. I don’t know if that’s true because during summer months Californians are to blame. On rare occasions, a senior citizen behind the wheel is labeled a traffic hazard but I don’t believe there are too many of this type. My former boss always said that experience makes perfect and I assume that means us senior drivers as well.
I’ve been wanting to write an onion of my own for some time but so far nothing noteworthy has come to pass. The other day I was behind someone at a stoplight who must’ve fallen asleep or was on their device. That happens daily throughout town so it’s not really onion fodder.
When the light turned green they just sat there. I gave a slight, barely heard toot just to get them moving. That didn’t work. After I laid on the horn for two seconds this car immediately started rolling, yet rather slowly as if intentional.
By the time it inched through yellow, a red light reached out and grabbed me. I give myself an orchid for keeping cool here although I muttered something unprintable under my breath.
The other morning at a local restaurant I received hashbrowns instead of country potatoes like I “thought” I ordered. That’s not really onion-worthy for a valid reason. Potatoes are potatoes according to Dan Quayle. If you don’t remember Dan Quayle you are indeed not of the Geritol generation. My wife says that when the server asked which type of potato I wanted, I never answered. I don’t recall that but with selective hearing anything’s possible.
I see no need to complain about hungry coyotes prowling at night for a snack nor bright lights in the neighbor’s backyard, as well as those blue rubbish cans standing guard like British soldiers on the sidewalk. Garbage or recycling receptacles left out after pickup merely add to the ambiance of our neighborhood.
Oftentimes, I’m guilty of this. Not that it’s intentional—I just forget to bring them in. There’s no law against it, yet.
Litter in the streets bothers me but not enough to lose sleep over. Sometimes I see stuff worthy of stopping in the meridian and picking up, like new beach towels that blew out of boats or life vests. I’m not the only one.
The folks losing them are heading back to California and have plenty of money so it’s no biggie. One thing I let lie for other road scavengers is their colorful swimwear. How about those onions regarding aircraft noise at the airport written by residents living close by.
I could write an onion about a lack of parking at the Mesquite phlebotomy clinic but on the other hand, sitting there watching customers try to park is pure joy. Onions to baristas seem to be on the rise, yet no one’s complaining about the exorbitant price of lattes and mochas. Go figure.
I have a few suggestions for those cranky ones running low on onion ammunition. Our dog park on the south side has grassy areas for small and large dogs yet nothing for canines in between. How hard is it to fence off one more section?
With handicapped parking areas throughout town, how about creating some designated “senior citizen” parking spots in the second row. Perhaps make the age limit start at 70.
Last but not least, people need to continue complaining about frivolous things to keep readers of Onions and Orchids laughing. They say that laughter is the best medicine. Above all, unlike Dr. Willie Feelgood and Nurse Jane Fuzzy Wuzzy’s pills, laughter is free!
I like to write junk... 