My husband and I have unintentionally created this routine. It goes something like this:
Me: I hate people
Him: I know.
Me: No, I really, really hate people.
We go through this several times a week and twice on Sundays. Generally there was a conversation that preceded my statement of ill-will towards my fellow man. That conversation usually goes something like this:
Me: Yeah, and another thing—what’s up with those stupid corporate care programs?
Him: I dunno. Corporations don’t care.
Me: That’s my point. I mean, corporations aren’t inherently evil. They’re not inherently good either, but one can only exist in opposition to the other, right?
Me: Right. So Corporation X wants me to buy its toilet paper because it supports troops, breast cancer research, and reforestation of the Amazonian rainforest. Now, I have to ask you: What’s that got to do with my butt, huh?
Him: Nothing. It’s all perception.
Me: Right! The measure of a corporation isn’t what it gives to charity. It’s three things: Is the product any good? Does it treat employees fairly? Does it treat customers with respect?
Him: That you give to the Coalition To Protect The Mississippi Slow-Crawling Bubba has nothing to do with toilet paper.
Me: Right! My great-grandfather…
Him: Oh boy…
Me: Was fired…FIRED…
Him: Yes, from the sawmill because he said if you’re going to house your workers—and you are—you have to give them a decent place to live.
Me: You have to give them a decent place to live because if a man’s got to worry about the roof over his family’s head…
Him: He’s not going to be focused on the job he gets paid for.
Me: That’s right. Could the sawmill have elected not to house workers?
Me: Right. But they did. So if you’re all in…
Him: You gotta be all in…
Me: Exactly. EXACTLY. Oh, and another thing! The bears? The bears with the toilet paper stuck to their asses?
Me: What is that? You’re a bear, in the woods, crapping quarters and getting toilet paper stuck to your hiney? Does that make me want to buy your toilet paper?
Him: I have no idea what you’re talking about.
Me: You agree with me. If you knew what I was talking about, you’d agree with me.
Him: I’m sure.
Me: So I have this whole conversation with Marie about how she’s only buying this one brand of sun-dried tomatoes because they give 10% back to charity…
Him: Ten percent of what? You know what that means, right? They throw their dented cans out to a food pantry, use it as a tax write-off, call it a donation and actually make money on the deal.
Me: I KNOW! So ask me if she likes sun-dried tomatoes.
Him: Does she like…
Me: NO! She HATES sun-dried tomatoes. But she thinks she can get all Kiva on some woman in Bangladesh by…
Him: Buying tomatoes instead of giving 20 bucks to Kiva?
Me: YES! I hate people.