On a Scale from Idiot to Complete Jerk (4 page)

On a positive note, my research on my uncle Dave indicates that jerks are not locked into jerkitude for their whole lives. They can change. (See Chapter 11.)

E) A Truly Scientific Analysis

Waffly language, gut feelings, unclear definitions—the problem of jerks clearly calls out for organized, scientific study. In an attempt to make it more sciencey, I have developed a simple yet highly sophisticated tool: a scale of how people act. The next scientific illustration, Scientific Illustration #2
,
is an important one—so important that it's the title of the whole project. Come to think of it, it probably should have been Scientific Illustration #1, but it didn't work out that way. So much for my organization.

Scientific Illustration #2
On a Scale from Idiot to Complete Jerk:
The Jerk-O-Meter

As you can see, the scale rates a spectrum of human behavior, where 1 is normal, 3 tends into idiot territory, and past 6 you're all jerk. A complete jerk, the highest level of jerk, will get a perfect score of 10 on the Jerk-O-Meter. (I plan, at some point in the future, to develop a handheld version of the Jerk-O-Meter, similar in concept to a compass or a speedometer, that you can point at a person and observe where the red needle stops on the scale. This invaluable tool for social interaction is still, however, in the development phase.)

The scale might appear quite simple. But then again, a lot of highly important sciencey stuff starts out very simply. Like when a guy wonders why an apple falls from a tree and then comes up with the theory of gravity.
Gravity
. But though simple, my scale provides a much more precise and scientific way of measuring and comparing jerkish or idiotic behavior. Let's give it a little demo.

The guy in the car behind us who honked at my mom a
millisecond
after the light turned green this morning exhibited low-grade idiot behavior. Maybe a 3 on the scale. Normal people wait that little heartbeat before honking at the person in front of them. But, no, this guy gets all huffy and impatient the
second
the light turns. Lower-scale idiots like this are mildly annoying or irritating, but not harmful. My mom glanced in the rearview mirror, muttered “okay, okay” under her breath and then forgot about it.

If Mr. Honk had laid on the horn for longer and swerved around us, he would have jumped up the scale into the idiot-tending-to-total-idiot range (4-6 on the scale). If he'd shouted at us as he burned past us, he would have continued his climb up the scale into jerk territory (maybe a 7-8). If he'd sworn at us, cut someone else off, laid on the horn again or thrown garbage out his window, he'd probably qualify for complete jerk status, a 10 on the scale. Anything more and he'd be off the scale, heading into the darker higher numbers where the police usually become involved.

Now that we have the Jerk-O-Meter as a measuring tool, it's time to jump into the research.

CHAPTER 4
Can Young Children Be Jerks?

Let's be honest here—no baby is a jerk. They just can't be. Can you imagine yourself seeing a baby fussing or crying or spitting up on his mom's shoulder and saying “That kid's a real jerk!”? It's impossible. They're just little and hungry or wet and don't tend to sleep on the same schedule as the rest of us. But they don't
mean
to be annoying—I doubt if they even realize they are. So pretty much anyone who calls a baby a jerk is a jerk.

How about a toddler? They do some pretty scary stuff. They throw food. They're grabby and crabby. They have tantrums. They scream a lot. They seem to have a lot of rage. I wasn't sure if they could be jerks or not, so in the interests of science I did some research on this particular topic.

CASE STUDY #1
The Cranky Toddlers and the Big Plastic Car

Subjects:
Maddie (age two, my cousin) and Nathan (age two, neighbor)

Laboratory:
My auntie Anne's extremely messy family room

Experiment:
My auntie Anne has one child (Maddie, a toddler) and about four thousand toys. But of all those toys, the big red plastic sit-in car is one of those premium-gold toys. What kid wouldn't want to open a big red plastic door, sit her little diaper down, slam the door and busily steer the wheel, turn the big plastic key and beep the yellow horn? None, I'm guessing. But what happens when there are two kids and one car? I observed a playdate with Maddie and her “friend” and neighbor, Nathan.

Observations:
Both kids get released into the room at the same time, like a turtle race. Maddie, even though she's technically hosting this playdate, staggers across the room faster than Nathan and grabs the car. She screams “MINE!” and sort of topples through the window and eventually ends up sitting inside, grinning. Nathan sees at a glance that the car is the money toy. He starts to howl in sheer rage. He sits right down on the floor and screams until his face gets really red. Tears, snot and saliva all stream down his face. Auntie Anne rushes over and tries to reason with him. It is not even remotely successful. So she flies over to the car, gives Maddie a few quick pushes, pleads and bargains with her and eventually just wrestles her out of it so that Nathan can have a turn. Nathan stumbles over with a drooly smile and dives in, shrieking “MINE!” Maddie, predictably, goes ballistic.

To sum up, there's an undignified tussle, they have a sort of shared, collective, monster tantrum, Auntie Anne shoves the car into the garage, and things only calm down when she brings out applesauce and Goldfish crackers. And, thankfully, a wet cloth for wiping faces.

“What, you're going already?” asks Auntie Anne, noticing me putting on my shoes. “What about the research?”

“I got everything I need. Bye Auntie Anne, bye Maddie, bye Nathan!” I get gooey, applesaucy waves and “bye-byes” that spew cracker crumbs across the floor.

It's only been seven and a half minutes by my watch, but I think I have enough research. And a screaming headache.

Conclusions:
Toddlers can't be jerks. They're just too young. They haven't learned not to be selfish and out of control. And they want to ride around in great little red cars. Can you blame them? Now, if Maddie and Nathan had been teenagers or adults, their behavior with the plastic car would definitely qualify them for full number-10, complete-jerk status. But they're two years old. And it's a fun car.

There appears to be an age limit for jerks, and children have to be more than two years old to properly be considered jerks.

CASE STUDY #2
Mayhem in the Mudroom

But what about kids who are older than toddlers but younger than kids in junior high (who we all know can be jerks)? Can they be jerks? In this case study, I try to pinpoint the age when jerkitude begins.

Subjects:
The grade-one class at Dorothy Simpkins Elementary School

Laboratory:
The mudroom

Experiment:
My brother, Joe, is in grade three at this school. Every day I meet him after school and we walk home together. But in this case study, I bribed him with a cookie, told him he was my research assistant and dragged him over to observe the grade ones being dismissed for the day. What do they do? How do they behave? Can a six-year-old really be a jerk?

Observations:
The bell rings. The grade ones all swarm into the mudroom, where they have to change their inside shoes for their outside shoes. It's a total scrum, and Joe and I get flattened against the wall by the human wave of six-year-olds. I can't believe how much noise these kids make. I'm regretting once again that I didn't do a quieter experiment.

Anyway, a little boy rips into the room and shoves his feet into his outdoor shoes (the kind that light up with each step you take). He heads for the door, two-hand shoving other little kids (who are bent over, putting on their shoes) out of the way and swinging his backpack. And he's also yelling “yayayayayayaaaaaa!” I don't know if that's scientifically relevant, but that's what he does.

Some kids get pushed right into the metal shelves, including a little girl who bumps her head and starts to cry. She's not actually bleeding, but sometimes, at the end of a long day in grade one, a push in the back and a crack on the head can really suck. Joe and I help her find her left shoe and her teacher. The teacher looks angry and also very, very tired when she hears what the little boy (whose name is Ty) did. Ty clearly sucks up a lot of her energy. And maybe he's not even the only “high-spirited” and “challenging” child in her class of twenty-five kids.

The teacher tells me, “Ty knows better than to push his way through the mudroom. His parents and I have been working on that. And many,
many
other things.”

I ask my research assistant what he thought of it all as we walk home.

“Kid's a jerk.” Joe shrugs.

My brother may not be a scientist, and he may be only eight years old, but he knows a jerk when he sees one. We all do.

Conclusions:
Six-year-olds can definitely be idiots and possibly even jerks. I mean, face it—when you read this case study, you immediately thought, “Little jerk!” didn't you? Okay, so maybe Ty has some hyperactivity issues or something that might explain why he acts like he does. I don't know. But he may also just be a little jerk (maybe an 8-9 on the scale).

When can a kid be scientifically classed as a jerk? I'm going to sound about ninety-five years old here, but the answer is
when they're old enough to know
better.
Little Ty knew better than to shove other kids' heads into mudroom shelves. Jerk.

Even if they exhibit early jerkish behavior, young jerks may downgrade to occasional idiot behavior and then level off and become normal people. In this case study, if we followed up on young Ty (which isn't going to happen, because this report is due Thursday), we might find that his parents' and teachers' efforts to make him less jerkish have paid off. He may have become a regular, nice, normal kid. Yeah, I doubt it too.

So we're up and running. Anyone over six can be a jerk.

Scientific Illustration #3:
The Path to Complete Jerkdom

We've seen that jerks start young. But what happens when the
jerkish behavior of young children is not corrected by parents,
teachers, counselors or the fury of other children? Check out the
following series of graphs, which show, scientifically,
just how serious things can get.

When unchecked, jerkish behavior becomes more frequent. It becomes the jerk's new normal. It can also intensify in annoyance as well as frequency. So, that kid in the seat behind you on the bus who keeps randomly kicking your seat? If nobody stops him, he might get bored with idle kicking and start in with full, rhythmic, two-feet thumping. When that becomes boring and normal, he's going to go looking for something else. And before you know it, he's launched on the path to full-time, complete jerkdom.