The Sin of Pride II

This installment contains some rude language and one very rude hand gesture.

One of the aspects of sin that makes it difficult to dissect is its inherent subjectivity. There are so many people in this world with their own ideas of what is wrong and what is right that, at least as far as my extremely limited mind can tell, there really can be no clear-cut conclusions as to what is Sinful and what is Virtuous.

Hence “every bad thing any human has ever done to another human.” Or whatever.

I do, however, tentatively suggest that most people’s perspectives on Sinful and Virtuous overlap quite a bit. We all know, for instance, that

-killing is wrong

-patience is a virtue

-basketball shorts are the least attractive articles of clothing anyone can buy. Ever. Period.

But it seems that often people get so befuddled by their own Pride or Self-Righteous Stupidity that it can be hard for two parties to tell who is being Sinful and who is being Virtuous. Here’s how it happens.

In my town there is a restaurant (it’s a Ruby’s, Californians) that is immediately adjacent to an ice rink. For those out of the know, it’s a charming place celebrating the fifties, including plush red booths, Oldies music, and smiling waitresses wearing uniforms that carefully set woman-kind back a handful of decades.

Sometime in the middle of high school, I was there enjoying a burger with my best friend Emily and a few of other girls, and we were watching a very sweet couple ice-skating.

As you can see by the photo-realistic drawing, there was a distinct Attractiveness imbalance between them. This is fine, of course, but for a group of insecure young-adults, unequal pairs like this are perfect opportunities to dilute our angst with the Sin of Slander.

“What is she doing with him?”

“I bet there’s something wrong with her. Maybe she has a vestigial tail.”

“She’s probably mail-ordered from Russia.”

And so on. And when we’d finished our increasingly clever banter about the unevenly distributed couple, we moved on with the conversation. Or we tried to, but...

This happened.

"Excuse me, will you guys shut up!”

She could not have been older than three.

Baffled by this strange mixture of manners and unprecedented rudeness, but undaunted, we continued our meal, unaware of a storm brewing to our immediate left. We were about to learn that sometimes not even charming jukebox tunes can staunch the fury of an Insane Poorly-Brought-Up Wealthy Mother.

As we chatted, no doubt about lofty, erudite things that were probably too intellectually complex to repeat, I noticed that a waiter had come to the booth next door and was helping the Mother and her Daughter to move their entire meal.

I smiled at the girl as she walked by, carrying her milkshake, and I received a scowl in return. I followed the pair of them with my eyes until they got to their new table, and as they sat down I was treated to this.

I informed the rest of the table as to what I had seen. Needless to say, they were flabbergasted, and Emily (whose moxie I will admire until the day my life is tragically cut short when I’m crushed under the weight of my own Cyber-Fame) walked over to this woman’s new table.

They talked for a few moments. Motivated more by curiosity about what was being said than by a desire to back up a friend, I joined Em across the restaurant. As I drew nearer, I heard the conversation.

“—that poor couple! What if they had heard you talking about them? Hm? They were just out having a good time!” The woman said. Valid. “You are all just sad, pathetic people with black, black souls, and I hope you’re proud of yourselves. You're a bitch, and you're all disgusting.” Perhaps too much?

"Don't talk shit about people. It's pathetic."

“I’m very sorry,” offered Emily, “if you were offended by what we were saying. I swear we didn’t mean to upset you, we were just observing something that caught our eye. I feel I should tell you that your daughter turned around and told us to shut up.” Admirable maturity, I felt.

The two of them traded blows for a while, with me standing nearby uneasily. At this point, I’m watching this show-down take place, admiring the dragon-lady for sticking to her guns, feeling sorry for the daughter for whatever the next 15 years have in store for her, and loving my best friend for keeping cool under immense pressure.

I’m also feeling left out, and wanting to contribute my own legitimate, grown-up, cool-headed point of view, so I jump into the fray with this little gem:

"YOU'RE pathetic!"

Well, after that delicious display of unbridled inanity, all the blood rushed into my head as I listened to what I had just said and realized how heart-stoppingly ineffective it was. It was all I could do to keep standing and hope that I still looked dignified and righteous. I came back to proper consciousness only to hear her final words for me:

“— and you’re a loser.”

Again, valid. But it raises an important question. Who was right, here? Were we fighting for our right to speak ill of other people behind their back? Or for our right to privacy?

Was this woman hoping to stand up for the innocent victims of trash-talking? Or was she just angry because her girdle was holding her a little too tight that night? Is it Sinful to wrong someone if the victim isn't aware and never affected? Or is it Sinful to bully people when they’re doing something you don’t like? Is it our actions that matter, or our intentions? There are times, I suppose, when you have to consider both and do what you think is best.

And then, there are the times when personal convictions need to make way for... well... social skills.