When I'm Smart

Do you ever have days (or weeks) when you feel completely stupid? I’m in the middle of a stupid phase right now. And it really bugs me.

First, I put my first 100 blog posts into a book on blurb.com, and their software allowed me to proofread the text in all 100 posts. Oops. While I know I often use incomplete sentences (purposely) and do make mistakes like anyone else, I had no idea I had so many spelling mistakes! And I’m a good speller! I blame it on laziness (too lazy to hit spellcheck) and lack of time (too busy to take time to proofread). Most of the time, I’d rather just get it posted and over with. It’s my blog, after all, so it doesn’t have to be perfect, right?

But I have to admit that many of those spelling mistakes were honest mistakes. How embarrassing, especially coming from a self-processed grammar snob and a person who is certified to teach high school English. Oops.

Sometimes I wish I looked really smart. I wish I were one of those super-intelligent people whose brain intimidates. But I’m from the Midwest, where we’re taught to be humble and not to brag. So I’m just nice, and people sometimes assume I’m stupid. I guess niceness and intelligence don’t go together?

And that is my biggest pet peeve. Just today, the worker at Star Nursery talked down to me when I asked about tagging some trees for pickup by the contractor who will do some work in our yard this week. The woman kept interrupting me, assuming I was stupid and didn’t know how to tie a marker around a tree branch. If she had just listened to me, she would have realized I was asking something more complicated.

And it happens all the time. Do I need to wear glasses so people will see that I’m smart? Should I put my hair in a bun? Should I be rude? Talk down to people? I sometimes desperately need to DO something. I’m just so tired of people assuming my questions are stupid. For example:

Me, at work: “Susan, do you know how to use the key on the door at the end of the hall?”

Susan: “Just put the key in and turn it.”

DUH! I know how to use a f-ing key. But the door at the end of the hall is the alarm door which needs a special key to prevent the alarm from sounding. But the nice Midwestern girl in me ignored the fact that she assumed I was stupid, and I just figured it out myself.

Someday I will be full of witty comebacks for all the people who talk down to me. Someday. When I’m smart.