Some irritating notions of the Adult Baby.

In all my workplace roles I’ve been fortunate to have always landed leadership roles of a supervisory nature. Having the power to delegate, enforce rules, and set an example has its perks- However, the downside to this is the incessant requests for ‘help’. This is a realm where presumptions and assumptions lead to catastrophic failure.

Day after day there are more masses are to be viewed that seemingly are lacking a compass. Aimless wandering around in be it the parking garage of my condo, a busy expressway, or the parking lot of Texas’ finest, a dead mall. These ‘babies’, if you will, doe-eyed and one step from a calamity with a look of woe upon their features consistently stare at the ground when they walk, shoulders slightly hunched, a severe case of undiagnosed depression.

I get it money is tight, and in Dallas nearing $6 a gallon in high-traffic areas. However, this should be a notion to get creative and ‘man up, if you will. Nonetheless, they wallow.

The gas stations, the lower the star rating the higher the mandatory hobo tax is. Prepare to be way-laid by a seemingly able-bodied human being who will insist on asking you for obsolete cash to blow on a can of beer. Don’t let it be a Sunday when you have an appointment, or just have to get to work, because you’ll miss your mark trying to get past the long lines where the ritual of purchasing lottery tickets is a standard instead of, I don’t know going to Church? I find this a total anthesis to the red-blooded, bible belt philosophies of homophobia and racism that lace the narrative. If you oblige them, then my friend you too are an adult baby.

There’s nothing like working with an Associate who’s eschewed a leadership role who’s been in the building since it opened and displays a clear lack of knowledge of operations. How did this happen? I imagine since I am their supervisor, heavy is the head. Several directions of coaching and development must be regularly revisited because “I forgot how to…”

“Can you show me again?”

Or the most honest, “I still don’t understand”.

It’s a culture shock.

I remember living in the late 1990s, most adults were adults- There were your screwball’s here and there but not encompassing half the population. Now seemingly the adults are kids, and the kids are trying to ‘grow up to fast’, clearly vested in the wrong things (I’ll let you decipher what those are). A 35-year-old clad in basketball shorts, an undershirt tank top, a pair of knock-off slippers, and a pair of dirty white socks in 95-degree weather asking “fo’ a ride to the sto’” that reeks of a cannabis dispensary is not an adult, but rather an aged boy. A 40-year-old woman who works two jobs to support a male partner who’s unemployed and hasn’t sought employment for a decade with no known illness, mental, or physical disabilities is an aged girl. “You’re judging me.” A slogan coined in the early 2010s. You fuck with the system and see if when they grab your ass whether they’ll judge you or not. I call bullshit. Quote the bible, “once a man, twice a child”. However, when does “one” ever become “grown”?

Don’t mistake what I’m saying as waving the flag of ableism. Charity should be given where it’s due. The assistance should be rendered where it’s needed, not to compensate for a form of egotistical sloth to hinder the process of delegation.

How do you deal? The baby, who’s not a baby at all wants to suckle my male tities in hopes of droplets of invisible milk that’ll mostly end up being a face full of hair and human body oil. Knowing this; doesn’t stop the feeble attempts. For example, the credit card skimmer at the local 7-11 who stole my debit card number and attempted to use it at a Wal*Mart for illustrious purchases of televisions, vacuum cleaners, and eh? Basketball shorts? Naturally, the bank would send me a text asking me if I’d just lost my damn mind were I calmly respond ‘no’ and the funds were unharmed. In Dallas, we’re surrounded by box jobs that pay $20 an hour with little or no education, yet these babies persist in trying to make a quick buck. Be there as it may, if they were able to get this $1200 worth of junk, what fence would they market the hot goods to?

It’s like trying to resell a 1-year-old Toyota.

Would the buyer want the option to return, exchange, or at least have some sort of Warranty?

It’s a total bust.

Along those lines, I got word that a 60-year-old waited until his now 80-year-old mother whom he’d entertained all his life, to tell her that he can no longer support her, and she’ll have to fend for herself. Wasn’t there enough time to plan for this day? Adult baby.

This is hard, so I’ll run away.

Right?

Wrong.

It’s an eye-watering auspicious wonder of great minds who’ve constructed roads, buildings, cities, societies, art, and seats of learning in contrast to this growing number of Adult Babies. In closing, I also cite the lack of imagination. Having grown up wrong, an essential part of being successful at anything is having an imagination. In this web of “adulthood”, in their lives, everything is impossible and hard. Despite all the childish pursuits that they entertain, having an imagination and the ability to dream left them post-puberty. I’ll cut to the chase, someone who has a plan doesn’t have time to wander around aimlessly.