Invasion of the You Knows

You know what? If you don’t know, then I’m going to have to tell you.

It seems that every day I am bombarded by the “you knows” and the “you know what’s”, to the point that it is slowly driving me mad. There is no escape.

I turn on the radio in the morning to listen to my favourite talk show, which is slowly becoming my least favourite station because of the “you knows.” I can’t recall when I actually started taking note of the number of times in the day I hear this colloquialism, but I can attest to the fact that it is creeping into our everyday vocabulary in droves.

I turn on the TV in a desperate attempt to break free from the “you knows” Guess what? They’ve taken up residence there, too! Oprah, Dr. Phil and Judge Judy have fallen victim. They’re everywhere. They must be stopped. Surely, I can’t be the only one that has fallen privy to this form of verbal abuse.

I know. I’ll flick over to TSN. Surely there can’t be any “you knows” or “you know what’s” there. NOT. Bad idea. They have definitely taken up permanent residence on the lips of both commentators and sports figures. You don’t believe me? Just listen to a recap of a game from a baseball player, for example, and count the number of times you hear “you know” in the context of a sentence. Pretty scary stuff.
The phone. That’s it. I’ll call a friend. That will take my swirling “you know” mind off of things.

“Hi Irene. Just phoned for a quick hello. How are you doing?”

“Hi Anne. I’m keeping well. But “you know,” I’ll have to call you back this evening. I’m just heading out.”

Oh no, I sigh. They have gotten hold of her too!

Think. Think. Where can I go to escape the invasion? I’ve got it. I’ll read a book. That’s it. Surely they haven’t taken over the print media yet. Wuthering Heights. I haven’t read this in ages. I’ve gotten through 20 pages with no sight of a “you know.” I’ve done it. I’ve made my escape. I drift off to sleep with my salvation resting comfortably by my side.

As I sleep, I dream of an army, slowly making its way toward my doorstep. This army is composed of a multitude of faces from every corner of the globe. Out of their mouths, as a kind of war song, they chant repeatedly:

“We know that you know … we know that you know.”

As they reach closer and closer to my door, bellowing louder and louder, I cover my ears with my palms.

“Cease,” I scream. “No more. Leave me alone.”

I awake in a cold sweat with my hands still covering my ears. Thank goodness. It was only a bad dream. Just then, I hear my son as he comes home from school.

“Did you have a good day?” I ask.

“It was alright. The usual. You know.”

I throw my arms up in the air in resignation. “I surrender. You win,” I holler to sights unseen.
And you know what? I feel so much better.

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