Pet peeves are so random, hilarious, and personal that we thought we'd share ours in this week's Coffee Talk. Long-time blog readers likely know Emily's by heart, but here are the team's in all their glory.
Emily: I've shared some of my pet peeves over the years, but the older I get, the more I seem to accrue (which is slightly depressing). Here's a small glimpse into some of the things that I find most annoying: people who answer a question with, "yes and no," the sound of knives scraping against plates, gum smackers, whistlers/hummers, bad music that plays while you're on hold, broken straws, rambling voicemails, packaged foods that haven't been properly sealed that turn stale (I'm looking at you, G!), smudged nails immediately after a manicure, and being touched by someone with wet hands. Okay so after reading my list, it's official: I'm a scrooge.
Geoffrey: I have several, but most make me sound like an old man, who gets angry when kids run across his lawn, so I'll highlight the one that paints me more as an anal retentive nerd instead. In my opinion, there is one correct orientation for attaching a roll of toilet paper to a holder, that is with the end coming over the top. Whenever I enter a bathroom with the paper rolling under the holder, I seriously question whether the person who did this was raised by wolves.
Alina: I basically keep a running list of pet peeves that I add to each time something really annoys me. I hate when someone really riskily and aggressively and haphazardly turns in front of you with no space/time to do so, and then has the audacity to drive slowly and hold you back. What are you doing? You just pulled off the turn of your life, skirting that car around that angle and kicking up tire dust - it was dramatic as hell and you were expedient in doing so, so don't now go the speed of a turtle. It's rude, selfish, and inconsiderate. It's also completely insane.
I hate when packaging is impossible to open. It makes me want to take a butcher knife and stab the whole thing open. Possibly nothing annoys me more than the inability to open something I've purchased. Make it easy for the consumer. You're a package of burrata. You don't need to be that hard to open. It's not for my safety or the safety of the burrata. Enough.
Leslie: I'm fully aware that what I'm about to say is going to make me sound like a scrooge, but there's one thing that makes my blood boil: humming and singing in public. When the birds are chirpin' and someone breaks into a happy-go-lucky hum, I just about lose it. It's not that I don't enjoy the sound of humming, per se, but when I'm minding my own business, grabbing a coffee or taking the bus, someone else's tune above the regular white noise feels like an invasion of privacy. What's worse is when people sing for the sole purpose of showing off what an amazing voice they have—usually a notch higher than they would otherwise. (I once worked with someone who sang along with her headphones, in what I assume was her best, muted impression of opera. We no longer speak...) I know, I get it, your voice is lovely—I'd just rather you save it for the shower.