For about five minutes, several years ago, the title on my business cards was to have been She Ra Princess of Power. Really. We were re-tooling the department, brainstorming new titles that would better describe our actual job functions. I suggested She Ra, because, well, I figured I was that all-powerful. That, and because I wanted a tiara and a sash.
Up on the white board it went. And there it stayed, until someone suggested a few more business-like titles. What stuck was Strategic Relationship Manager. Utilitarian, sure, but with little pizzazz. I told everyone the story though, of how I got to be She Ra, Princess of Power for a little while. I say all this because, deep down, I really do believe I am She Ra. Or at least that I have She Ra-like powers. Mostly. There are times when I want to shout “If you’d just do it my way, the world run so much smoother!” And by the world, I of course mean my life: if you all would just follow my rules, my world would run infinitely better.
Really. They’re not difficult rules. Here’s a sample:
If God had meant for their to be flavored coffee, God would have created flavored coffee beans. Cream is acceptable. However, if you add whipped cream, you now have a milkshake, not coffee. Even if it’s hot.
Drive-through lanes were invented for speed and convenience. They are not designed for question-and-answer hour. Seriously— when’s the last time the menu changed in any meaningful way? It’s a burger. Or chicken nuggets. Or fries. Move on. Drive through. Oh, and this doesn’t mean drive-and-then-stop-and-check-your-order or contemplate-just-how-hot-that-coffee-is. It’s hot; trust me. Put the cup in the cup-holder and drive.
Lettuce doesn’t belong on a sandwich. Ever. It is slippery. No good can ever come from a slippery sandwich.
You are not the arbiter of how fast the fast lanes on the highway should be. If you find yourself zipping along in the far left lane, happy in your three-miles-over-the-posted-speed-limit haze, oblivious that the car behind you is all but kissing your bumper, and more cars zoom past you on the right (some of whose occupants are looking decidedly annoyed, and some gesticulating madly, one finger at a time)— move over. Highway driving is a cooperative effort, people. Cooperate.
You’re not so special or so important that you cannot wait the extra two minutes and NOT block the intersection. And stop being fake-surprised when motorists with the actual right-of-way give you snarky looks. You drove into that intersection precisely so you would get caught and wouldn’t have to wait for the next one.
Regardless of ever-changing grammatical rules, irregardless is not a word. Ever. And while we’re at it— “your” is NOT the same as “you’re,” and there’s a difference between “who” and “whom.” Likewise there, their and they’re take some thought. There’s no excuse for bad grammar or bad spelling— even while texting.
I am all for your religious beliefs. Have at ‘em. Practice with all the fervor and passion and joy you can muster. Do not, however, mistake your faith for my fact. Feel free to do or not do as your God commands, but don’t legislate those thou shalts and thou shalt nots for the rest of us.
Simple rules, right? Follow them, and the world continues to spin on its axis, and I don’t spin like a mad dervish, riffing on some nefarious infraction or misstep. I can be a benevolent Princess of Power, as long as you play by the rules. My rules. It always comes back to that.
Here’s the thing though: I’d give them all up, every single one of my beloved rules, if we could all practice these:
Patience. Tolerance. Kindness. Love.
Let’s face it: we all have our own battles to fight and demons to exorcize. It costs us nothing to comfort or care. Indeed, a kind word can heal a broken heart or give hope where once there was none.
Even She Ra, in all her glorious power, can’t hold a candle to that.
Interested in reading more about the world according to Stacey? Check it out here.