At this stage in my life, I’ve come to realize that I’m not exactly everyone’s favorite person. Sarcasm is my go-to form of communication, and I may drop a few more expletives than some might deem appropriate. Recently, a former acquaintance remarked that I “always have a chip on my shoulder.”
While it’s challenging to use a personal essay to refute this claim—especially since I often write as a way to vent—let’s lean into that chip and have a good old-fashioned cathartic rant. I’ve got some long-simmering grievances that are just itching to be aired.
Let the Chips Fall Where They May
Back in the third grade, there was a girl—let’s call her Emma. I had just moved to Ohio from Virginia mid-school year. Instead of welcoming the new girl, Emma decided to talk trash. Yes, the infamous third-grade smack talk: “I’m just soooo cool, and you’re jealous of my adorable accent!”
Then there was my third-grade teacher—thanks for making me redo my entire autobiography because your instructions were too vague for a nine-year-old. I cried myself to sleep over that assignment!
Oh, and that same year, some little brat mocked me for not having cash for ice cream at lunch.
In fourth grade, the Beanie Babies craze hit. Emma and her crew had mountains of those silly collectibles while I barely managed to scrounge together ten. Sure, I felt a twinge of envy, but the bragging was unbearable. I hope you’re still waiting for those dolls to increase in value!
Fifth grade was all about the cool girls getting their nails done every month, and I just wanted to fit in.
My fifth-grade teacher—newsflash, I wasn’t behind in reading because I was lazy; it was because you assigned me a history book from 1877!
By sixth grade, I remember the girls on the other side of the basement door giggling while I experienced my first “real” kiss. Middle school? Don’t even get me started on the seating arrangement on the bus. Why did 7th graders have to sit up front while the 8th graders got the cool back?
High school was a whirlwind of drama, including a jock who relentlessly bullied a classmate until he brought a gun to school. Or the time one of them hit my boyfriend’s car and then tried to fight him. Yeah, I’m still holding onto some not-so-great memories from those years.
My former best friend even tried to start a fistfight with me in the hall—like, really? We could have just talked it out! And my high school guidance counselor? Let’s just say she had no business directing my future.
“I’ve Got a Lot of Problems with You People, and Now You’re Gonna Hear About It”
Who needs a special holiday to air grievances?
- Douchebag Who Complained About Onions on His Sandwich – It was eight years ago, and seriously, just pick them off!
- Know-It-All Who Corrected Me in 2009 – I was a hostess, and when I said, “just one today?” she complained to my manager about how it could hurt feelings. Really?
- Stylist Who Talked Me Into Bangs in 2010 – There’s a reason you’re still at Best Cuts.
- Saleswoman at Plato’s Closet – Who are you to judge my Aeropostale jeans? I wore them twice!
- Maternity Store Saleswoman – I know you don’t work on commission, so quit pushing those overpriced shirts.
You see, I might just be harboring a few grudges. Who knew? Maybe my former acquaintance who pointed out my chip on my shoulder was onto something.
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Summary
This piece humorously recounts the author’s grievances from childhood to adulthood, illustrating a lifetime of experiences that have contributed to her perceived chip on her shoulder. From schoolyard bullies to misguided teachers, these anecdotes serve as a relatable exploration of the frustrations many face.
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Keyphrase: Chip on my shoulder
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