“Want to see the 642 slides of my Caribbean vacation?”
Hell no.
Once upon a time, there was a small group of people who thought that everyone they knew would be fascinated by the minutiae of their travels. Slide shows, projected on portable screens, blank walls or suspended bed sheets, allowed these narcissists to bore their family and friends for hours at a time.
The saving grace was that you could usually tell when this torture was coming, and you could bow out with a creative excuse. The setting up of the projector, screen and slides was so complicated a process that it wasn’t likely to be repeated.
Darn. Sorry I missed that. [Remember to fake sincerity.]
These days, there is one moment guaranteed to make my blood run cold. It’s when someone says, “Oh, I wanted to show you a picture of…” and whips out their smart phone. There’s no way to see this assault coming.
Now you’re a captive audience, anytime, anywhere, by anybody. And not just for the picture they want to show you.
First, of course, they have to unlock their phones. Then they have to find the right icon and get the app to load. Then they start scrolling through their pictures. And scrolling. And scrolling. And scrolling. All while you’re just standing there, because obviously you have nothing better to do.
And those aren’t the people that annoy me the most.
The ones I really want to strangle DON’T continue to scroll through the thumbnails. Instead they want to share and explain every single picture they have until they finally get to the one they meant to show me.
Kill me now.
Don’t misunderstand me. I don’t hate you. I like you. I just hate your pictures. And even more, I hate that you naturally assume I’m as interested in your pictures as you are.
So far, I have never taken a single selfie. And I’ve never ever whipped out my phone and buttonholed anyone into a photography showing.
I hope I am able to say the same thing with my last breath.