Why does everyone turn into a dick for the duration of December?
I don’t like Christmas shopping. I’m not wild about ordinary shopping, but at Christmas the “holiday spirit” seems to distil all the negative points into one potent cocktail of irritation. I know I sound like a grumpy old man here, but having just gotten back from doing the aforementioned Yuletide consumerism I’m a little ticked off.
The thing is, everywhere is packed, all the products are yammering at you with sales and whatnot, all shops are piping the same repetitive Christmas songs- and this has all been going on since October. But that’s to be expected, really. The thing I don’t get is why everyone turns into a jerk around this time of year.
I’m not the greatest fan of people in general, and as the title of this blog probably indicates my being irate about humanity in general, but my God! I went into Reading town centre for two presents, and even on the train people were being insufferable. Happiness and Christmas cheer are great, but loudly singing Christmas carols over and over again in a train carriage, when you only know one bloody line is going to piss people off.
Then I actually get into town, and the shops are packed with people determined to examine every single item on the shelves, and ignore my polite requests to allow me past. Seriously, I was shocked by just how busy the shops were, on a miserable Tuesday morning still eleven days from the big day. I guess everyone’s getting their shopping in before VAT goes up in January (thank you George Osborne), but still.
Now, I’m a child of the information age, so the vast majority of my Christmas shopping is done on the internet. Which is, in my opinion, a better experience. You don’t have to fight through crowds of people, you don’t have to travel from your armchair to do it, and the only thing you get annoyed at is the postman still not having called by 7pm. Unfortunately, with some presents I feel the need to see what they look like in the flesh before I buy them. Hence my little expedition into capitalist hell.
In the end I got that wound up at the fact that so much I wanted wasn’t there, and that people were being arseholes, that I just decided to give up and come home. Then I decided to moan to you about it. So there you go. Bah bloody humbug!
(Oh, and don’t worry Loved Ones, the internet didn’t fail me in the end. You will all get lovely gifts this year. Well, gifts at least)