In all things, I’m a fastidious creature. I like everything in its place and the po on the dresser. In a world where near enough is considered good enough, I maintain that precision is not pedantry, and it is to my chronic inability to leave well enough alone that I owe most of my business success.
That said, I’m not intolerant. Perish the thought. Intolerance is one thing I simply cannot tolerate. I allow people their quirks, their eccentricities, and their silly points of view. After all, not everyone can be as informed and logical as I am.
I come from an age when we could disagree without trying to get each other sacked or arrested. We’d debate, listen, and part as friends.
These days, few seem open to hearing opinions that differ from their own. At best, you’re shouted down, at worst, you find yourself investigated for a non-crime hate incident, something the police must record if it’s perceived to be motivated by hostility or prejudice. Perceived by whom?
Naturally, I’m also an excellent listener and a gifted reader of body language. Should Galen’s eyes glaze over as I expound upon one of my many King Charles’s heads, I’d gracefully change tack and engage him on one of his areas of expertise such as whether the world could truly be spinning as fast as a bullet.
Personally, I doubt it. I mean wouldn’t my chicken’s feathers be in a constant state of rufflement?
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Posted in response to galenkp's weekend experience
prompt asking: What are you fastidious about and why? If you and I met in a bar during one of my work trips what would we talk about and why? and What are you most intolerant of in today's society and why?
The images are mine
