There are two “things,” or human behaviors, I witness daily that are perplexing when considered in tandem. Heck, they are vexing when contemplated in solitary.
Thing One: The obsessiveness with which we hold doors open for one other. Seriously. Everyone holds the door for the next person coming through. I see it, day in and day out, at the Bailey/Howe Library at UVM. The phenomenon is as routine, as commonplace, as de rigueur, as closing the door when you enter a bathroom stall. There’s no way you’d leave that puppy open. And, conversely, there’s no way you’d let a door slam on someone entering a building behind you. But is it really that important?
Thing Two: The reckless abandon with which people spit out their phlegm. I counted 10 goober-globs on the sidewalk between the library and my car today. Each one potentially loaded with germs that could make my family barf all night or cough all week. I don’t get it. Few people (probably no one) would consider dropping a load of E.Coli on anyone’s front door, so why is it commonplace, routine and almost de rigueur, for folks to expectorate ad nauseam.
Couldn’t we let the doors go but keep the phlegm in? I’d prefer the perceived rudeness of entering a building sans aide than the actual rudeness of having to watch every step for infectious sputum.
Where do you stand?