To Complain(kəmˈplān) Is to Be Truly(ˈtro͞olē) Alive(əˈlīv)

To Complain(kəmˈplān) Is to Be Truly(ˈtro͞olē) Alive(əˈlīv)

By Samantha(səmansə) Irby(ərbē)

There are so many things in daily life that cause me never-ending unease(ˌənˈēz): waiting in the kind of loosely defined wraparound(ˈrapəˌround) line at the D.M.V. that makes losing your place inevitable(inˈevitəbəl); self-service situations whose unmarked rules the savage(ˈsavij) among us approach(əˈprōCH) “Lord(lôrd) of the Flies”-style, leaving, say(sā), the Starbucks condiment(ˈkändəmənt) bar in complete(kəmˈplēt) disarray(ˌdisəˈrā) in their wake; holding my breath(breTH) while hoping for the woman two stalls(stôl) down to hurry up and leave as she hopes for me to hurry up and do the exact(igˈzakt) same thing.

Then there are the minor(ˈmīnər) tragedies(ˈtrajidē) that cause me deep, unrelenting(ˌənriˈlentiNG) angst(aNG(k)st,äNG(k)st) every moment I’m awake. I hate trying to sign a credit(ˈkredit) card slip that is so slippery(ˈslipərē) the pen just leaves weird(wi(ə)rd) scratch(skraCH) marks as I melt(melt) into a molten(ˈmōltn) puddle(ˈpədl) of anxiety(aNGˈzī-itē) because I’m holding up the line at the store. I hate when someone comes to my house unannounced(ˌənəˈnounst) and I have to sit real still in the corner of the room you can’t see from the window because I don’t want anyone to know what the cats and I wear when we watch TV. I hate when I’m trying to walk into a building at the same time as another person and we both go through the “wait, I’m polite(pəˈlīt), too” motions that result in an awkward(ˈôkwərd) reach-in-and-retract(riˈtrakt) dance that can come to an end only when one of us drops dead on the sidewalk. The potential(pəˈtenCHəl) for me to be utterly(ˈətərlē) humiliated((h)yo͞oˈmilēˌāt) lies in wait around every corner of my life.

Which is why I love to complain. Why are people so terrible at merging on the highway? When is my neighbor(ˈnābər) going to cut down that rotting(rät) tree limb(lim) or does it have to shatter(ˈSHatər) my windshield(ˈwin(d)ˌSHēld) before he notices how bad it’s getting? How is my phone bill this expensive every month? Where has Barack(bərək) Obama(ōbəmə) been? Who turned the thermostat(ˈTHərməˌstat) down to 68 degrees(diˈgrē)? Why does everyone pretend(priˈtend) to be cool with splitting(split) a huge((h)yo͞oj) check when I just had club(kləb) soda(ˈsōdə) and you had four overpriced(prīs) top-shelf cocktails(ˈkäkˌtāl), Kelly(kalē)?

https://www.nytimes.com/2017/10/20/opinion/sunday/to-complain-is-to-truly-be-alive.html?referer=https://mobile.nytimes.com/2017/10/25/opinion/complaining.html