Let’s talk about today’s masterclass in unnecessary rage.
There she was: parked. Stationary. Motionless. As in: the car was not going anywhere. And yet somehow, in her internal universe, a group of kids riding their bikes nearby was apparently such a catastrophic event that she absolutely had to lay on the horn like she was clearing a runway for emergency aircraft.
The kids? Doing nothing. Literally nothing. Riding slowly. Laughing. Existing. No danger. No blocking. No chaos. Just pure, wholesome childhood.
But no. Not good enough for her. She needed them to know — urgently — that their presence within a kilometre radius of her stationary car violated her personal sense of order. How dare these children… ride bikes… in public… while she sat parked. Outrageous.
It’s almost impressive, really. Most people need actual movement, traffic, or conflict to get worked up. Not her. She’s operating on a higher emotional frequency where even the idea of children nearby is a threat worthy of a horn blast.
If she’d like a trophy for “Most Dramatic Overreaction While Completely Stationary,” I’m happy to nominate her. Because that level of entitlement doesn’t come naturally — you have to cultivate it.
