Irritating People #2 – Preserve me from know-it-all women

I’ve had a run of know-it-alls recently. I’d love to say it was men as well, but the current selection of gargoyles is entirely female.

There are some ladies out there who must have ditched Google long ago, unless they’re using webmail or something. Why on earth would they ever use Google? They know everything!

Preserve me from the little lectures on everything under the sun, everything from banking to art history to cats via – groan – their definition of an alcoholic; and that awful perky correcting tone their voices take on when replying to you – even when asking you questions about your own life!

Preserve me, particularly, from lectures given by near-strangers on how I can improve my life.

For diplomatic reasons I will draw a veil over some of the people I’ve got in mind, but last night’s PITA really took the biscuit.

This is a person, let’s say, with personal issues, which she splats on anyone who will listen. I’d met her once before, and she’d tried to put one over on me, but I thought maybe this was a one-off. The moment I ran into her again with another friend, she started up about all her (not inconsiderable) problems, and – fool! – I made sympathetic suggestions.

Cut to two hours later when the three of us had walked out of a terrible play and gone to a café for some tea. Almost the moment we sat down she started telling me that, with my smart university credentials, I really ought to be tutoring children, and that I should definitely be charging at least eighty pounds an hour. After hammering me with this for a few minutes, she then said, ‘I’ll write the introductory letter for you if you like.’ Dumbfounded, I said, ‘And what makes you qualified to do that?’ ‘Because I think you’re going to undersell yourself.’

There was a small pause. ‘Oh, I do it too!’

Clearly, something is going on here. A writer thing. This woman has been a copywriter for many years, and, according to her, won awards for her work in her home country, and is, according to her, the only game in town. Softened by her tales of depression woe, I could not bring myself to ask her the simple question why, with this earth-shattering CV, she still hasn’t got a job.

I’m not sure where this comes from. Late-onset insecurity, just plain ole arrogance? No idea. But it’s boring. As they say, a closed mouth gathers no feet.