Stuck with stuck-ups...

You see them everywhere.

In your social circuit.

At your workplace.

In glitzy malls.

At restaurants.

Heck, even on the road.

They’ll stare at you coldly; smirking is their most preferred occupation. They could be of either gender. Eyebrows arched, they will deign to look at you out of the corner of their eyes, almost as if you are some tadpole that has decided to hop into their sight, straight out of some algae-ridden pool.

Striking up a conversation with them sure is tricky, cos they put the “C” in cynical. Every comment that you utter is scrutinized, analyzed, dissected, and thrown back at you with a vengeance. Almost making you wonder if they moonlight as critics – since they are so adept with their scathing comments, which are not even remotely droll.

They always know that tad bit more than all the knowledge you possess, and you better not forget that in a hurry. The Lord help those who foolishly decide to cross them – that’s absolute Hara-kiri - as what they say is next to Gospel truth, irrefutable, and most importantly always one-up on what you, the twit that you are, could possibly come up with.

Every time an innocuous remark escapes your lips (and there will be a fare share of these definitely), their lips will curl in that half-smile-sneer that they have perfected, and which will probably set you back by an hour of patience, cause you to grit your teeth, clench your fist, and look around for the nearest gas chamber to shove them into.

They have the prerogative of always airing their freely-dispersed opinions, cos obviously, for us mere mortals, those should be the only ones that matter, and the sooner we realize that, the better for our general well-being.

Index-fingers always jamming in your face, they take it as their moral obligation to elucidate points to us, the imprudent earthlings that we are. Hell, we should be kissing the very ground they tread on – that is the least of the ways to show our eternal gratitude.

Proficient at that fine art of clucking their tongues in disapproval, they are also not averse to shaking their heads at all times, except when they are the ones from whom pearls of wisdom are flowing like freshly-opened packs of iodized salt, at which time it is considered most appropriate to nod your heads in:

a) silent approval
b) open admiration
c) both

Heavens help you, if you by some stroke of misfortune, decide to ask them about something. Within seconds, their hands will move animatedly, and chest puffed out, they will set about giving insightful monologues on anything from how the country to how the universe should be run. Intervals are rare, and any interruption will be severely glared upon, and shushed with one authoritative hand. After all, who dares interrupt when Royalty speaks? Pshawww.

Disagreed with them, did you? You gotta be kidding right?

Gosh, you actually did that? Prepare for some fireworks now. Extended periods of silence. Or maybe accusatory / are-you-out-of-your-orbit glares. Perhaps all of these. And some more…

And if you insist on cracking a feeble joke at this juncture, be prepared to receive some perfectly-honed withering looks.

The ones that can cause flowers to wilt. And cracks to appear on the walls.

There is only one way out then.

Pray hard.

Or make a beeline for the nearest exit point.