No social graces

”I can afford it!” I said to my poor doctor, interrupting her as she tried to discuss my possibly needing a tetanus-shot.
“It might cost $100.”
I might need it following an open wound from falling.
I couldn’t remember when I had it last.
“Oh, excuse me,” I said. “I might sound kurt or snippy, but have no social graces whatsoever.”
But above all I think it’s having driven city-bus. We had to be assertive to survive.
It was mainly our clientele, but management could be that way too.
“Siddown and shaddup!” I once told teenagers telling me how to drive. “As long as I’m drivin’, I’m captain of the ship.”
I’ve done two face-plants over the past couple days. After removing a scab, I noticed an open wound.
It was too late to suture; “just keep it clean and let it heal.”
I was prescribed an antibiotic, and also got that tetanus-shot.
Verbal blasts like “siddown and shaddup” generally didn’t work driving bus.
I’m not Attila the Hun.
I often used guile and cunning.
Pulling over and stopping the bus usually got the miscreants’ attention.
“Hey man, we wanna go home.”
Assertiveness was needed; you had to be quick.
“What brought that on?” I’d ask.
Or “I need a favor.
Passengers have blown you guys in, and now my boss wants to send the police to bust heads.
‘No,’ I said; ‘lemme talk to ‘em first.’”
Always worked, and all made up.
Nevertheless still assertive, though I no longer need be.
I’ve learned to “siddown and shaddup” myself; keep quiet to avoid inserting foot in mouth.
Yet sometimes it blurts out — enough with the yadda-yadda-yadda.

• Blogs about my two recent face-plants are here and here.
• For 16&1/2 years (1977-1993) I drove transit bus for Regional Transit Service (RTS) in Rochester, NY, a public employer, the transit-bus operator in Rochester and environs. My stroke October 26th, 1993 ended that. I retired on medical-disability. I recovered fairly well.