Angela will rethink all those nice things she said about me after I say this, but I can't resist.
There is this ballet mom who talks constantly, and to make it worse she speaks in public address mode. She speaks to the room, across the room, to the adjoining studios. Her only volume is ear drum piercing loud. She has a better way to do everything. She has done everything more often and better. Even if you are talking privately to another mother or father she will listen in and start broadcasting her experience. Yesterday, I was taking advantage of the unpredictable audition wait time reading a book. A couple of mothers started talking quietly on the other side of me and BOOM!, the PA system was put into operation right across my head. I assumed that since I was obviously reading she would walk around the couch and move closer to the mothers to whom she was speaking. Not a chance, and I should have known since I have had the pleasure of listening to her squawk for a few years.
After giving up on common courtesy, I left my place on the couch, walked outside, and sat on the floor. I could still hear her. Then in spite of my best intentions, I got tickled thinking about those mothers left inside, who had no chance of politely escaping her recitation of her excellence, or her rage at whatever was inconveniencing that day.
Then, I felt terrible. She is obviously terribly lonely, wanting to be a part of a group, and feeling left out. I have been lonely and left out. I feel her pain. I have polished a few stories so that they show me in my best light. I should be embarrassed. Yet, I think I have always thought about others. Now I have a choice for the Nutcracker season, I can avoid her like the plague because her voice and demeanor are the equivalent of fingernails on a chalkboard to my uninterested ears, or I can try to be nice and listen patiently nodding at all the appropriate moments in feigned agreement while she squawks so perhaps she will feel better about herself.
What tack would you take?