Pet peeve #247: Are those donuts for me?

We’ve all been in the situation before when it has been our turn to bring in the donuts, be it at work, or for the Sunday School class, or wherever. So there you are, lugging a few dozen donuts through the hallway, and inevitably, someone passing by feels the incessant need to make a comment. “Oh, you bought me some donuts,” or, “Ooh, can I have one?” or “Are those donuts for me?” Of course, it could be donuts, a covered dish, pizza . . . you get the picture.

This is what I call a pet peeve. The definition of “pet peeve” as stated on dictionary.com cracks me up. It is “a particular and often continual annoyance; a personal bugbear.” Bugbear? When’s the last time you used that word in daily conversation? Anyway, lest you look askance at me over this, I just wanted to make clear that my pet peeves are not the same as your pet peeves. But nevertheless, they are peeves. You have them, I have them. I have a lot of them. I’m not always proud of it, but there you go, there’s my big confession for the day.

What is so annoying about the “donut situation” anyway? I had to give it some thought. I think, first of all, that such comments are just not very funny or clever. Second, it’s not like carrying donuts is such an uncommon occurrence, or that these people have never seen a donut before. To the contrary, I would suggest that we live in a very donut-saturated society. For instance, within a three-mile radius of my house, I can think of at least four places where I can buy donuts.

But as I ponder this a little further, I can think of a few more reasons why this is one of my pet peeves. One is that when I am in this situation, for various reasons, I am often either in a hurry or have my hands full. Maybe buying the donuts has left me a little late for church, or something like that. Or maybe I’m trying to carry all of my normal stuff in addition to the donut boxes. This tends to put me more in an “I-don’t-want-to-hear-inane-comments” kind of mood. I’d rather have someone say, “Gee, your hands look kind of full. Can I help you?"

Finally, I tend to get annoyed that I can’t think of a pleasant response to such comments—a response that doesn’t say “I think your comment is stupid”—even though this is what I’m thinking. After all, it’s only a pet peeve, there’s no need to set off World War III. So I usually just smile, give a fake laugh, or something like that, while in my mind, I’m thinking, “No, as a matter of fact, you can’t have a donut,” or “Go buy your own donuts.”

A few weeks ago, I was at a track meet, sitting in the stands, waiting for my son’s event. A man who had been sitting nearby was returning to his seat with a basket of chicken strips and French fries, and a Coke. As he made his way to his seat, a lady said, “Oh, did you bring those for me?” (Note that even though I wasn’t involved, just hearing this set off my pet peeve-meter.) Without missing a beat, the man said, “No, yours are back at the concession stand.”

After a few minutes, I thought to myself, “Well played, my friend.” I had not thought of that response before. And indeed it was a good retort. Short, sweet, not rude, and it got the message across. “Go buy your own” and “You can’t have mine” were implied in the answer, yet did not have to be voiced. I would have come up with something much longer, more awkward, more sarcastic . . . in short, I would have come off sounding like a jerk. His tone was friendly and jovial, yet somehow conveyed the message of “Your comment was stupid.”

So here’s my plan. The next time I’m bringing the donuts in and get one of those typical comments, I’m going to try out this man’s comment. I’m pretty confident that it will work well. But if it backfires, well, then at least I’ll have something else to blog about.

I was going to throw out another one of my pet peeves today, but I think I’ll leave it at that for now. In the future I’ll let you in on some more of my persistent personal perceived peccadillos.