Pet Peeves: Ask a Genie

Three cheers for reader Nancy Gordon, who celebrated her 80th birthday yesterday! Hip Hip...what's that?...oh, I'm being told it's rude to say "hip hip" to an octogenarian. Well then, Hooray, Hooray, Hooray!

I've been laid up with a bug this week, so our stalwart advice columnist has stepped up to write the feature, and many thanks to him.

It's-a me, your faithful genie! I'd usually say, "—here to answer your burning questions," but we'll save your letters for next time, except for a quick aside to Jungle Geoff: Orangutans can learn kung fu, but you won't be glad you taught them. In my last column I wrote about wishes that make me angry. Today I'll continue that refrain in a quieter voice. Here are five of my wee pet peeves, little things that get under a genie's sun-soft skin. They may be worth remembering, should you meet one in the future.

Peeve #1. "That's not what I wished for."
Here's the thing: I literally can't forget what you wished for. Wish magic forces me to work within your specified request. When you wish for a Lamborghini, and I bring you a Lamborghini, don't try to convince me you asked for a Ferrari. You might regret your wish—that's part of the exercise, but I don't work at Red Lobster. You won't get extra biscuits by insisting I got your order wrong.

Peeve #2 Ticky tacky wishes
Everybody's holding out for a different rainbow, but it won't ever thrill me to visit Larry Gagosian's secret gallery, and walk past three perfect Matisses just to ask if he can track down some hack-job Warhol reproduction. I could get you anything (almost anything), so why not make it classy? Why be the guy who gets "Suck it, Frankie" painted on the side of his jet? Or the girl who wants "a fourteen-karat gold-plated necklace," even when I tell her I can spring for solid gold. (For that one I went rogue, and paid Cartier to add an atomically-thin fourteen-karat coating on a twenty-eight-karat torque. She loved it, I loved it, so...bad example, I guess.)

Peeve #3 "Now do one for my friend"
Why don't you grant a wish for your friend, Your Lordship.

Peeve #4 The "stand your ground" guy
(This is a new one, but it's become alarmingly common.) When I come to your house with your heart's desire on a flatbed truck, please don't greet me like a clay pigeon. Just last month I met a gentleman at Dollar General who wanted a "big ol' Winnebago to go see the whole darn country." I picked one up that afternoon, but when I went to deliver it, the maniac took pot shots at me from his porch. Well guess what, Davy Crockett, I'm not paying to fix that big ol' windshield. (Some people wouldn't see this as a "pet peeve," but I'm immune to buckshot, so it's mostly an annoyance.)

Peeve #5 "If I'd known you were a real genie..."
It hurts us both when I work hard to get you a box of moon rocks or a million roses or whatever silly goose-chase leaps to mind when I ask for your wish, and then, as I present the pointless trophy, it finally occurs to you that you could have had a working Zeppelin or a dictionary for dolphin-speak. If you doubt my qualifications, the only proof I can offer is the wish itself, so my strong suggestion—and this is a good note to end on—is to fight off cynicism. If a strange man in a strange hat asks you what you'd wish for, above all else in the world, you don't have to believe he's a real genie. But tell him the truth, all the same.