I stopped off at a Panera Bread to catch a bite and do a bit of reading and writing. When I took a seat, I wondered if this was a good idea, as this particular Panaer’s was a local hangout for the students of the local High School, but I was hungry and had dealt with worse.
Things were relatively tranquil, as it was just three teen boys and two girls — nothing to worry about, I thought. After all, the US is still a free and open country — at least for the moment — and having raised children of my own, I figured I could handle their inevitable silliness. Besides, there are indeed some things one can learn from those to whom we are leaving this screwed up world. But things changed when a horde of their classmates poured in like an army of red ants, looking to command everything in their path with the braggadocio of profanity talk, thinking it made them sound tough.
Profanity for the mere sake of uttering a diatribe of nonsensical words does nothing other than demonstrate one’s inability to communicate on a level that requires regular communication and conversation. Most of the time, the so-called curse words are filler and nothing more. The phrase ‘swears like a drunken sailor’ in and of itself is a term of art. One should learn how to use profanity artfully. For profanity to have the desired impact, one needs to deliver it with a level of understanding of one’s objective, not a random, profanity-filled diatribe with no reasonable distinction, other than one knows certain naughty words.
Recognizing the youthfulness of these boys, using the f-word has a level of coolness to it, and sets the tone for what will come next. In reality, it just makes them look silly and annoys the hell out of someone like me, who has spent a lifetime using the word and, at times, still does not get it right, which is why I exercised my long-earned right of passage to tell them to knock it off.
If you are going to use such an ancient word as ‘fuck’, then one needs to do so with a deep level of deference, as that word is as old as the Bible and if you think the creator didn’t use it when Adam screwed up, well, read between the lines when he asked Adam and Eve, who told them they were naked. I imagine the self-conversation going something like this:
‘That damn Lucifer, I told him not to mess around with these two. But no, he keeps pushing and pushing, testing me. If it wasn’t for the fact that he is my son, I do more than clip his wings; I would put him in charge of the deepest, darkest pit that I can create and banish him to it for eternity, where he can have all the bad souls he wants to torment. I haven’t decided on that yet, but if he keeps fucking with me, it will happen faster than he can say Oh shit.’
For those reverent religious types, accept my apologies. I am writing about how young men should use a specific word correctly, and yes, I agree it should not be used at all, especially in public. Yes, I agree that obscene profanity has no place in polite society, but social norms have changed, and that word has become a regular part of our culture, which is why I am addressing it here.
I am not prudish, but I have the right to sit in an eating establishment and expect a level of appropriate behavior from those younger than me. I understand how Panera becomes a hangout for teenagers just out of class, looking to blow off some steam. When all one is trying to do is enjoy one’s lunch, do some reading, and then suddenly find that level of tranquility blown asunder by a bunch of teenage boys hornier than a dog in heat, dropping the F-word every nanosecond to impress each other on their newfound mastery of a word, was a bit much.
So I tapped one of the offenders on the shoulder and, when he turned around, told him, in a calm, even stern tone, that I would appreciate it if he and his friends would refrain from using profanity. The rapidity of his apology was interesting. It told me he knew, and that his friends understood what they were doing was out of line. For the most part, their conversation continued, still a bit boisterous, but the F-word faded. But teenage boys are what my late father would often say ‘hard-headed.’ It didn’t take long for them to revert to dropping f-bombs, to which I looked at all of them and said, ‘What did I just say to you?’ To which they once again apologized.
I was more than willing to undergo whatever insults they were about to unload, for the simple reason that whatever they would give me, I would return in a manner they had never heard before. After all, at my age, I’ve picked up a cadre of epithets that would have frozen them in their seats, and made the master of profanity not only proud, but would have named me his chief consultant on the art of Insults by Profanity. However, my stern look of ‘don’t fuck with me, yongester’ was more than sufficient to freeze them in their seats, and when they dropped another f-bomb, my look was adequate to elicit ‘I’m sorry’ from one of the young men.
But there was something else in play besides me and my age. This Panera Bread is in one of the affluent suburbs, with parents who have taught their children respect for elders while also instilling the belief that the world is their oyster. The parents of these children are doctors, lawyers, managers, or business owners, and I feel safe in saying that they have taught them about respect, but would have no problem telling me I had no right to speak to ‘their child the way I did, to which I would say the following:
“But on the contrary, madam, I have every right to speak to your child in the manner I did, for the simple reason, you and your husband obviously have failed to train your offspring on what proper decorum is to be practice in public, for if you did, they would know that profanity in any form is not appropriate in polite society, and that the degration of any human is a betrayal of what they have been taught in their home, which I can only presume you and your husband seem to have failed distratically at, for if you were successful your child would know what is acceptable in society, now that I have said what I have to say, please leave my space and go ‘fuck off.’
I know no such conversation would ever take place, as these young men would be too embarrassed to discuss the dressing-down they received from me with their parents.
Eventually, the cadre of young men left, and the tranquility I had been enjoying returned, leaving me with my thoughts and the ability to return to my reading. I have no doubt they will return to Panera’s and once again devolve into a conversation laced with F-bombs with the silly belief that believing in the unending use of the word fuck in public somehow embeds them with the mistaken concept that it makes them sound tough, when all it does is annoy those who have to listen to the stupidity of their adolescent conversation.
As I said, my father used the term ‘hard-headed’. For me, I would add the following words: hard-headed and stupid.