I was driving. Cruise control set to the speed limit of 30 km/h. I stopped at a crosswalk to let an elderly couple pass.
The man stared as he walked in front of my car. He tapped his index finger on the side of his head — the international sign for “You’re crazy.”
I rolled down the window and asked him what was wrong. He replied:
“There’s a crosswalk here.”
I told him I was aware of that — that’s why I stopped. What more could I do, I asked.
“You didn’t stop fast enough.”
I started laughing at the bizarre argument. Shook my head, letting him know that he was the crazy one, not me, and drove off.
What a whining, grumpy old man. Some people will always find something to complain about.
Fast forward a few hours...
I’m writing this text, and I realize something:
Now I’m the one whining. Whining about someone else whining. I’ve become a grumpy old man.
And guess what? It feels pretty good. Letting it all out.
That’s why we whine.