I Hate Misinformation

While I was getting my hair cut the other day, I overheard a conversation between the hair cutter (female barber? men’s stylist?) at the next chair and the customer in her chair. The customer, a man, was explaining the different results from breastfeeding babies and formula feeding.

His wife breastfeeds their baby, but another mother feeds her baby formula. Both babes were 6 weeks old. Snippets of the tale:

“The other baby had to be 3 times as big as ours.”
. . .
“Their baby was like 22 pounds.”
. . .
“Ours is 11 pounds, there’s had to be 15 or 16 pounds.”

Such conversations drive me crazy. I can’t talk to someone who makes these kinds of wild exaggerations, and then keeps changing the “facts” of the information. Fortunately I wasn’t in that conversation, but I’ve been in others with a similar pattern.

I like to converse to exchange information and learn new things. I can’t stand when the person on the other end of a conversation is just talking out their butt. Saying ridiculous things, offering exaggerated “facts,” and generally just confusing the hell out of the information exchange.

Hearing the conversation at the barber shop, I wanted to shout at the man, “Get your facts straight or shut the hell up!” His ridiculous and changing facts were killing my brain cells. I felt myself getting dumber just breathing the same air.

I have little [read: no] patience with people spouting off incorrect “facts,” stupid and confusing statements, and generally less than useless information as true.

I mean, everyone should know that babies on breast milk can walk at 6 months, and talk at 9 months. Babies on formula become diabetic and alcoholics by 12 months.

Bullgrit