Obliviosity

Obliviosity, that’s my new word (I create a new word from time to time - just ask my family!).   What does it mean, you say?    Well, let me define it thusly.  Obliviosity is the condition with which those are stricken who are totally unaware of their surroundings and those who share their surroundings. 

The oblivious stop in the middle of aisles at the grocery store, even when they’re not talking on their cell phone (but especially when on the phone).   Or they drive right through red traffic lights.  Or they cross right in front of people who are walking in a mall or down a street or in the produce aisle, or they walk directly at you while chatting, which makes one want to, oh so very much, simply stand still and let them walk right into you (but you simply move out of the way with a shake of your head and they never know).  Or they push through a doorway, crowding out those who were there first, who simply and politely move out of their way. 

The oblivious don’t say ‘Thank you’ to the checker at the store or to someone who holds a door for them.  They drive fast through a parking lot as if it were a through road; oh, are there others around?   They don’t bother to park correctly and frequently use two spaces; after all the spaces are there solely for them. 

If we’re talking about the management of a shop, said management doesn’t bother to notice or care that the building temperature is way too hot for comfort, or way too cold; of course, then they are surprised that customers don’t linger.

If the oblivious are possibly interested in political events, they base their opinions and judgments on whatever headline is screaming or whatever inane e-mail has arrived; they do not bother to verify, because they’ve already made up their minds, based on headlines and e-mails.  Which perhaps is an odd balance to those elected officials who are unaware and/or uncaring of what their constituents need/want/expect.

“Who are all these folks stricken with obliviosity,” you ask?  Why, they are all around us.