I saw that a woman in Texas called 911 because she didn't get extra shrimp in her fried rice. It made national news. Folks were appalled at so indulgent a complaint to an emergency service.
I am not so quick to pass judgment.
I can relate to this woman. I've also been known to turn small disappointments into catastrophies.
I had such a moment recently.
Many adults have little helpers to get through trying days, or unwind at the end of them. It could be cigarettes, a cocktail, a Valium.
I have my own version.
I keep a stash of root beer barrel candies in my desk drawer. They bring enough comfort to qualify in my life as a Schedule III Controlled Substance. I reached for one and found none were left.
A normal person would have moved on, or perhaps gone to CVS for more. I spent 17 minutes digging through my desk, in increasing panic. Had I eaten them all? Or did some thief rip me off? I'm calling the authorities.
That happened last week. I'm not over it.
I blame my ancestors.
There are two types of families out there. The first are psychological Calvinists who never complain, and on some level, enjoy self-denial. These are the people who, if served a badly cooked steak at a restaurant, never protest because they feel they deserve to be punished.
My family was the opposite. To borrow a line from Jackie Mason, when a waiter came up to our table, he would more likely say, "Is anything all right?"
I mostly got this from my father who was -- still is -- obsessed with little pleasures. Once, while visiting Paris with my mom, he bought a box of Cuban cigars -- illegal in the United States. Instead of spending their last night out on the Champs Elysees, he stayed in their hotel room working on a plan to sneak through customs. One by one, he took the labels off each cigar and replaced them with American labels from a second box he'd bought.
He was equally obsessed with Heinz ketchup, and had a theory -- still does -- that restaurants fill Heinz bottles with inferior ketchup. He could tell the difference just by looking. Though he never called 911 to my knowledge, I several times saw him send back a ketchup bottle demanding an unopened one, the way more sophisticated connoisseurs send back wine.
One part of me has rebelled against that, and I don't complain at restaurants, but I admit to being undone by crises at them. For example, there have been times I've run out of ginger ale just as the entree is served. With the waiter nowhere to be found, I have to settle for the water glass instead, a harrowing compromise. By the time I get home, I have to take to my bed.
And 35 years later, I am still not over something that happened to me in London while backpacking through Europe with my older brother. One day, we splurged and went to a well-known public house called the Cheshire Cheese. I ordered a burger and a Coke. I asked for ketchup, and they did not have any. Worse -- the Coke came out warm. When I requested ice, they had none of that, either. Had there been a 911 back then, I would have dialed it, and did consider going to Scotland Yard. The moment convinces me still that the British are a deeply misguided people.
My theory is that those who come from big families are more prone to be traumatized by little things, like not enough shrimp on the rice. In small families, you can be confident food will last. But when your kitchen is constantly in use, there is no choice but to live by the law of the jungle. I can't count the times my mom would unpack from a grocery run, and 20 minutes later, the whole box of root beer Popsicles was gone.
In such a household, you have to learn survival tactics like hiding ice cream bars inside a box of frozen peas, and a stash of Oreos in the back of the cupboard. I learned you never wave the last lamb chop victoriously in front of your older brother's face, or he might grab it and eat it in one bite. And you never ever leave your glass of Coke in the den with your brothers if you have to visit the washroom.
So I identify with the woman from Texas. Definitely not a Calvinist. Probably a large family. Had siblings who always ate the good stuff before she got to it.
I do realize that understocked shrimp doesn't merit 911.
But I do understand.
(Contact Mark Patinkin at mpatinkin@projo.com.)
(Distributed by Scripps Howard News Service, www.scrippsnews.com.)
Must credit The Providence Journal
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