When I’m forced to confront a case of stupidity, I either do so cheerfully, since I have full knowledge of what lies ahead or very, very quietly. I reserve hollering and unleash expletives only in emergency cases.
I’ve found that when stupers (short, once again, for doggedly stupid persons) are confronted with their own stupidity, they do two things: act surprised (because idiots are genuinely stunned when someone catches them acting idiotically), and attempt to lie their way out. This was the case with a meager mind at Son #1’s school a few years ago.
Son #1 has always been technically talented. My fiercely loyal readers may recall my mentioning that this same son routinely repaired his classroom computer…when in kindergarten. Parents of other kids invited Son over just to upgrade their computers or have him custom-build one from scratch.
When in the eighth grade, Son requested and was granted permission from Mr. Joe, the computer lab director, to use the school’s fast running computer for Son’s science project. Days later, Son came home upset because Mr. Joe accused Son of setting up an online gambling operation.
“Why would he think I did that?” Son asked, clearly irritated at the unfounded accusation.
I pushed away images of winning $700,000 playing poker or bingo and took it upon myself to investigate. I entered the school administration office.
I’ve always been an active parent, first-rate at
attracting sniffing out trouble in my kids’ schools and resolving issues involving stupers posing as teachers, coaches and superintendents. I strolled in quietly, wielding my Louis Vuitton handbag and Prada shades (arsenal no member of the female sex who plans on battling stupers should be without).
Before I uttered a word, the Superintendent skulked away, arms up hold-up style. I was feeling good.
“Where’s Mr. Joe?” I asked no one in particular.
Mr. Craig, a respected and responsible teacher asked, with great concern no stuper could possibly feign, “Is there a problem, Mrs. Garson?”
Damn right, Yes. Mr. Joe has accused my son of setting up a highly profitable gambling operation in the two days that Son was allowed to use the school computer.”
“I’ll get Mr. Joe,” Mr. Craig left and returned instantly, Mr. Joe in tow.
Mr. Joe is a small, hairless, oily looking fellow with beady eyes and lips so thin, one can’t help but stare and wonder if they’re permanently turned inward; he’s the type a parent intuitively knows treats kids like a piece of overchewed gum the moment the parents’ backs are turned. I started,
“You accused Son of starting an online gambling operation.”
“No, I didn’t. I never said that.”
“Then just what did you say?” I asked, moving in for the kill.
“I said the computers were running slower than usual.”
Obviously, code for stuper talk that meant, I did say just that, but if you persist in accusing me, I will persist in lying between my extremely thin lips.
“And did you throw out the words “online” and “gambling” somewhere in that sentence?”
He paused two seconds to pretend to engage in thought, but we all know where that leads.
Mr. Joe left the school of his own accord (so I was told) at the end of that school year. I love it when stupidity resolves itself so neatly.
It’s important not to resist a case of stupidity or stew over it, which would be a grievous waste of our precious time. Better to meet it head-on and resolve it in a positive manner, when possible.
Don’t stop thinking.