For those of you new to Grump Goes Grand, and considering this is the first post, that includes me, so I should point out that I don’t necessarily hate everything.
Likewise, while I may come across like it, I don’t mean to be rude. It’s a by-product of a bullshit bypass and an inability to read between the lines of social constructs I clearly missed the memo on.
Let me illustrate the concept behind Grump Goes Grand.
Often, in the travels of Grump & Co, the “& Co” is represented by my long-suffering partner of ten years.
Those ten years have taught us both important lessons.
- Do not ask Grump for an opinion before the second coffee of the day, regardless of timezone, altitude, or how recently the previous coffee occurred.
- Do not expect Grump to notice a haircut. He has a blind spot for fashion, styling, and personal appearance in general.
- Do not ask Grump, “What do you think?”
He will answer.
Honestly.
The honest part seems to be the primary cause of the issue, but more importantly, the basis of this publication.
- “It needs garlic” is a compliment.
More than that, it is actually the second-highest praise Grump can give.
To the untrained ear, it means he doesn’t like it.
To the trained ear, it means he is invested, interested, and can see how to make it better.
That may seem rude, but it is intended as a love language lost somewhere in Google Translate.
- “It was good” is the highest praise available.
This is the theatrical equivalent of “No notes.”
Everything worked.
Nothing requires fixing.
No action items have been raised.
- “It was… good” is reserved for the particularly bad.
For the sake of ongoing domestic peace, I should clarify that this has never been applied to any of & Co’s clothing or cooking.
This rating falls under the general principle of:
“If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all.”
The ellipsis does a lot of heavy lifting.
It is the sound of a man politely trying not to say anything, while his face quietly prepares a sandwich for later.
So when Grump says something needs garlic, better lighting, quieter music, clearer signage, a softer pillow, less ceremony, more seating, fewer QR codes, or a portion size visible without specialist equipment, it does not necessarily mean the thing was bad.
It means there was something there worth saving.
The things I truly dislike rarely receive detailed notes. They receive silence.
And silence, from Grump, is not approval.
It is the place bad experiences go when even complaining feels like effort.