I'd rather be wrong than be rude

My Grandpa Bud used to tell me that when someone is being rude, obnoxious, annoying etc...that I should simply “kill ‘em with kindness.” Grandpa Bud also used to tell me, when I was much younger, that I got the freckles on my face from chasing a loose cow with a stick I was flipping back and forth, but that is a whole other story for a different column.

The reason I bring up the “kill ‘em with kindness” credo is that of as of late, I’ve been going to that mantra a lot.

Back in the good old days of college, when I was acquiring a degree I’ll probably never be able to pay off, I had a professor that said “as a journalist, you now know everything.” Now he didn’t mean that in a snap I had become the biggest brain on the block but rather as “journalists” my classmates and I had to come off as if we knew everything about the topic we were writing about.

That idea, in theory, is great. But I don’t know everything about everything and why would I want to? I want to get the facts correct in a story, but to pretend that I know everything is pompous and better left to the “journalists” on television. I know people who think they know everything and they are huge bores. When I see them coming I head in the other direction to avoid a conversation.

I know some people who challenge these know-it-alls and call them on their nonsense. They call a spade a spade, hurt feelings and stymie the big-brained blowhards. I, however, am just not cut from that cloth. When I have been sucked into the know-it-all’s vortex, I’m stuck and no matter how hard I try I can’t free myself from their everlasting jabbering. I think that Grandpa Bud is most likely looking down on me in those instances and saying “nobody can be that kind, Kiddo, tell them to shut their yapper already.”

The reason I bring up this little tale is that recently I had someone come to me and man, did he know everything. He called me out on a mistake I made in one of the captions in the newspaper and boy, he was smart. He put me in my place, questioned my manhood and wondered if I was perhaps born on a different planet.

Now, even though I don’t want to know everything, I do love to learn. What I enjoy even more is when I learn something that improves my quality of life or makes me a better “journalist.” I have no problem admitting to a mistake because, quite frankly, what is the alternative. I don’t purposely make mistakes – that would make as much sense as chasing a cow with a wagging stick – and mistakes in print are the worst because they are around all week, month, year, so on and so forth.

After about two minutes of being scolded by Mr. Professor, he started into a wrap about a different topic and he sounded as if he wanted me (a nitwit) to write a story about it. A favor, if you will. I processed this information pretty quickly – even though I am so dim – and decided that I wanted gold coins to fall out of my underpants.

I wonder which of these two events will happen first?

I listened, nodded like the oaf I am, and that was that. Mission accomplished, Grandpa Bud.