My Unreasonable Demands

posted 10/19/2006
I don't suffer from a lot of envy. I have enough excess shoes and books and furniture and votive candles and knick-knackery to feel pretty satisfied. I have friends and I receive invitations. People are nice to me and I'm about as popular as I want to be. I'm open to receiving large amounts of property or cash, but, on the balance, I am not really jealous of anyone else's success or talent.

Except, of course, for one thing, and it is HUGE. I know people who have a single, fantastic, inexplicable ability that I would love to possess- the genuine gift of making unreasonable demands and getting away with them. I don't know how you con other rational adults into giving up their individual sovereignty, but I'd love to learn. Somehow, certain people are able to conjure up a personal monarchy and get volunteers to join their virtual kingdom knowing that their only reward will be relentless irritation, subjugation and ingratitude.

For example, I worked with a woman who insisted that the stapler was always (and I mean ALWAYS) returned to the left side of our work counter. Mind you, the counter was not the size of some vast unchartered wilderness where a stapler could wander off into the woods, be eaten by wolves and never seen again. The counter was two feet deep and five feet long. Short of the use of an invisibility cloak, the stapler could hardly escape notice.

Yet, I did my best, day in and day out, to meet her unreasonable demand and return the stapler to its Designated Stapler Port on the left side of the counter. I quickly learned that this was a good strategy to avoid her wrath. She could simply fall apart when, after a day of frequent stapling, the stapler would migrate and I'd have to hear "WE don't keep the stapler on the right! The stapler goes on the LEFT."

Eventually, this got really old and I just bought my own Executive Swingline, thus leaving her free to move on to another fixation…"WE keep the check stamp between us, on the shelf, HERE!" So many office products, so little time to control every paper clip in the universe.

So, you know the type, right? (Unless, of course, you ARE the type and then you will not have a clue - you will think that your demands are quite normal and that other people are either uncooperative or not too bright.) Here's an example from the High Points of My Previous Marriage (a fairly thin collection, really).

My ex-husband, Let's-Call-Him-Greg-Because-His-Real-Name-is-Carl, had a large catalogue of unreasonable demands from which to choose. For one, he did not tolerate whispering in a movie theatre. I don't mean during the actual movie - I mean, he would demand total silence during the trailer that encourages you to visit the snack bar for Skittles and a Coke. Forget about the previews.

If Greg had had his way, he would have prohibited any communication after leaving the ticket counter; such was the strength of his conviction. All film supplicants needed to enter the film temple in a state of reverent quiet.

Not all movie goers had been informed of Greg's unreasonable demand before the show, so there was occasional conflict. If Greg detected rustling or throat clearing, he would throw a warning glower into the offender's direction. If this was not effective, he would half rise; then he would verbally confront. Confrontation could escalate until Greg (who was not a big guy) would go out and get reinforcement from an usher or projectionist.

Before every movie, I would inwardly cringe, knowing that some one, in some seat in some aisle, would put Greg on High Alert. And there I would be, stuck between the expectations of supporting my man despite his idiocy and admitting that I'd married a hypertensive whack job.

My point is that there are those amongst us who pretty much get their way (at least for awhile) even if their way is relentlessly annoying, bullying, passive-aggressive or just silly. Yet, I'm going through life and I don't seem to get anyone to bend to my will. Not a single soul indulges my absurd whims or unreasonable demands. I feel cheated.

I mean, I once knew a woman who managed to get celery (CELERY) removed from a vegan buffet because she insisted celery contains arsenic and sodium. As a practicing fruit-a-tarian, she could not abide being so close to such a dangerous vegetable.

I know that I can't compete on that level - I'm not going to get the kind of cooperation that Stapler/Check Stamp Dominatrix and Movie Overlord seem to enjoy with their god-given talents. But I thought I could, maybe, start out with small Unreasonable REQUEST S and, someday, with constant attention, they could grow into monster Unreasonable DEMANDS. I have some possibilities that I'd like to run past you.

Please respond: Yes/No, I Would/Would Not Comply with Any/Some/All of Ingrid's Potential Unreasonable Requests:

I've given up my car because I believe it's expensive and environmentally unsound. Plus, I'm saving lots of money and I don't like to drive. I demand that you drive me everywhere in support of my beliefs. You agree to let me tell you how carbon emissions are degrading the ozone while you're driving
I only consume raw foods. You agree that I'm much healthier than you are, that I will live longer than you do and that I'm more spiritually advanced. Because of my special food requirements, you agree to change the menu at your wedding reception from filet mignon to cubed organic squash and unfiltered pomegranate juice.
I am a poet. You know I am a poet because I often calligraphy my poems for you and give them to you as birthday and Christmas gifts. I also read my poetry to you from a journal that I carry with me everywhere, and send you emails of my latest work. You tell me how much my poetry means to you.
I give you a gift certificate for a high colonic irrigation and tell you that you are toxic. You go to Seattle, use your gift certificate and agree to go regularly, thereafter.
I am doing my genealogy and discover that I am descended from European shepherdesses. I want to talk about my shepherdess ancestry often. You tell me my family is fascinating and ask me questions about sheep.
I have a video of my C-section and want to show it to you. You ask for a copy of your very own so you can watch it over and over.
I tell you that my child is Gifted and Talented because I breast-fed him for five years. You agree that nursing should continue well into middle school, and that my son is brilliant because of it.
I smoke three packs of cigarettes a day, and have a persistent wheezing cough. I tell you that the cause of my hacking is the damp Washington climate. You agree, but also suggest that "something is going around."
Most of my former boyfriends are awaiting extradition from Central America, and the rest are either in a witness protection program or doing time. My husband and I have been in marriage counseling for 10 years, and I tell you that we're making good progress - his uncontrolled rage and compulsive shoplifting are barely noticeable any more. Now, I've met the perfect guy for YOU and want you to go out with him. You agree because you trust my judgment when it comes to men.
I give you tips and suggestions as to how you could improve your performance at work. You thank me.

If you could just let me know what you'd be willing to tolerate as my unreasonable demand (or have alternate suggestions), I'd be grateful. Remember, Unreasonable Stapler Demands and No-Communication-at-the-Movie Demands are already taken. Won't-Tolerate-a-Particular-Vegetable Demands are negotiable. Note-to-Self #2: After reading the above article, you may be wondering if I'm covertly using you as an example. I'm not. I'm writing about someone completely different. None of your demands are unreasonable. Knowing you is the joy of my life.

Note-to-Self #3: For the readers who read the previous article and wrote to me about their experiences with Spam, you may be gratified to learn that Austin, Texas is the home of the annual Spamarama. Gourmands from far and near compete to create original Spam dishes such as Flaming Spam Jubilee, Spam Oscar and Oysters Spamafeller.

Billing itself as "The World Famous Pandemonious Potted Pork Party", the festival has been going on for at least 28 years. The festival motto is "I'm Pink - Therefore, I'm Spam." Rollover, Descartes.

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Ingrid is currently living and respectably employed in Austin, Texas with a firm specializing in environmental law. She hopes to get back home to the San Juan Islands next spring to stay.
While Ingrid is spiritually promiscuous, she credits her guru, Jimmy Buffet, for her mantra..."If we couldn't laugh, we would all go insane." Besides a passion for Tiki Studies, Ingrid is borderline biblio-obsessive. She is an old-school Libran - i.e., she won't be leading the Revolution, but she'll work to make it an attractive affair and hire the musicians and caterers."

Her column appears every other Thursday in San Juan Islander. To contact Ingrid, send emails to ingrid@sanjuanislander.com

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