A tweet embedded in the article I stumbled upon on the Daily Beast profiling a new(ish) podcast called I’ve Had It described it thusly,” Found this podcast of two women just hating on everything. It’s the best thing ever.”
The older I get, the more misanthropic I get—as evidenced by the blog tags like “people are the worst” and “I hate people”—so I figured I’d at least try the podcast. I’ll admit that I was skeptical. Many people attempt shit-talking on social media, though they feel the need to disguise what it is—shit talking—as a “read” or a “serve.” Frankly, most aren’t good at it.
Shit talking, in my humble opinion, is an art, and all too often, these “reads” are either somewhat defanged, too mean, or what I like to call performative sass, which, topically, I’ve had it with. In my again, humble opinion, good shit-talking punches up, not down, often has low stakes, and comes with a real sense of frustration, which is usually more resigned than theatrical. I have to hand it to them. The two I’ve-Had-It women delivered.
In a sampling of the episodes I listened to, the hosts have “had it” with rich women manifesting, people that cry for attention on social media, people who stand up as soon as the airplane lands, people who don’t know their order at counter service dining/drinking establishments (Asheville is beset by this particular plague), right-wing retirees fighting people on Facebook, inspirational quotes, couples professing their love via social media, and Florida politics. I obviously enjoyed it because we have the same hates, with, I think, the overarching theme of the podcast and my aforementioned misanthropy being that we’ve all had it with people being so self-involved they inconvenience others or so self-involved they want to push their thoughts and beliefs on others—we’ve all had it with shitty people.
The day after I sampled and decided I liked this podcast, I went to Daymoon Coffee Bar and, through some brainstorming, decided I wanted to write about it, both how I enjoyed the content and how I’ve had it with so many of my fellow humans. I tried to think of some timely examples but was having trouble. Writer’s block is a thing, and people are awful, so I figured I’d find something soon enough and decided to return to work at my apartment. I must have manifested something because I exited the coffee shop and witnessed an interaction that enraged me.
A couple was laying out on a picnic blanket on the coffee shop lawn (she was, of course, wearing a peasant skirt, he, that hoodie that every stoner you went to high school with in the mid-aughts bought at Pacific Sunwear…both were obviously barefoot). They were about fifteen feet from one of the two picnic tables on the property. Their coffees sat on said picnic table alongside the man’s combat boots. The coffee shop was packed that morning, and all the outside seating was taken. However, did this couple feel compelled to move their shoes and coffee to their blanket when two women approached and asked, “Do you mind if we use this table?”
Nope. They had the gall to say, “No, we’re using it,” as if that were completely normal to take up an entire picnic table with a pair of combat boots (thrifted—and cataloged, I’m sure—on some anti-establishment Instagram), and then went right back to their, I’m sure enthralling conversation. I didn’t stay to find out how the story ended, but I hope the two women poured out their drinks and threw the boots into the grass.
Luckily, this happened on my designated weekday hike day. Since I have a somewhat flexible schedule at my remote job, and since I typically block off Tuesdays from meetings so I can write unencumbered, I decided that for this spring and summer, on Tuesdays, I’ll start working super early (5:00 or 6:00 AM—I know that’s a nightmare for most people, but truly a dream for me), work a full day, and by done by 1-2:00 PM. I’ll use Tuesdays to go on weekday hikes, which are ideal because they are less crowded, so one has to fight less for parking…and see less people.
The day I witnessed these picnicking clowns, I did the Big Butt hike, which I’ve written about before (one of my favorite close-to-Asheville hikes)—6 miles and an hour lounging/reading on the mid-way overlook, and I didn’t see a single person. It was glorious. If you’re in the area and have the flexibility, I highly recommend including more weekday hiking into your repertoire. It’s, in my still so humble opinion, the only way to do some of the area’s most popular hikes in the summer unless you love parking an extra 2-3 miles away from trailheads.
The next night, I went to Izzy’s Coffee House in West Asheville to write the first iteration of this post—it’s right near the Flatiron Writer’s Room, where I’m currently taking a weeknight class (which I’m loving and hope to touch on soon)—and, feeling refreshed after my weekday hike and a productive day of work, thought to myself, “Maybe this isn’t the angle I want for this piece—maybe I hate people too easily these days…maybe I should lighten up…maybe, to quote fellow Pennsylvanian Taylor A. Swift, ‘I’m the problem, it’s me.’”
Then a man entered Izzy’s, ordered a coffee, and sat at a table to drink said coffee. He was talking loudly ON SPEAKER PHONE the entire time and is apparently, “really killin’ it in the luxury real estate market here!”
I decided not to reassess my angle. I decided I’ve still generally had it with people.