Where has this me me me society come from?

Right, that’s it – I’m giving up being nice to strangers for Lent. I know we’re a couple of weeks into it already but surely it’s the thought that counts?

My reader probably thinks I’d assumed that stance many years ago but my parents dragged me up proper. You know the sort of drill - respect your elders, open doors for people (all genders and ages) etc.

My newly-acquired no-more-Mr-nice-guy attitude, which has been bubbling under for many years, finally burst out this morning.

It was brought on by a young woman (can I still use that phrase in these oh so PC days?) with whom I crossed paths outside the local supermercado. Well, to be fair, it was almost a collision rather than a crossing.

The scene was a narrow part of the forecourt. I spotted straight away there wouldn’t be enough room for both of us a few metres ahead so I stepped aside, stopped and waited for her. She duly swept past, head, down, texting on her mobile and never gave a moment’s thought to the fat boy with the over-laden shopping trolley who had stopped to let her pass.

What sort of younger generation have we brought into this world? I didn’t expect a civic award for my actions but a quick “thank you” or a smile would have been nice.

It’s the same nowadays with doors – hold one open for someone and most people sweep through without a murmur or even a look of gratitude.

The number of times I’ve muttered, under my breath but hopefully loud enough for the recipient to hear, “you’re welcome”. Said, obviously, with a touch of sarcasm and a hint of contempt.

And don’t get me started on the drivers who would never dream of letting someone out from a side street or across a junction. They are clearly very, very important and don’t want to lose their place in the queue.

Or those who you let past a parked car without giving you so much as a slight wave of the hand.

What on earth have us oldies done to end up with such a me me me society. And before you write in, dear reader, it’s not all Maggie Thatcher’s fault. 
So, should you be unfortunate enough to come across me outside a supermercado in future while texting your boyfriend/ girlfriend/ both and not looking where you are going, expect to be bundled to the ground by a trackie-wearing old boy with a huge smile on his face. You have been warned.