Late in life I’ve noticed a rather shocking development. People insist on making me irascible, petulant and downright crabby.

I consciously try to be polite, patient and mannerly with people. Why? Because of my advancing age. I want to avoid being perceived as a crabby ol’ guy, so I go out of my way to be as pleasant as possible in my dealings with fellow human beings. But these people seem to insist that the curmudgeon come out in me and run amok like the Incredible Hulk. Me, I’m trying to keep the Hulk down; keep him from rearing his ugly green head but these people who engage me must want to see the Hulk. Case in point.

I’m at home — just me and the Hulk inside me — minding my own business. A knock on the door. I open it to see a young man who engages me in a sales pitch that alone was so over the top that I would have been warranted in closing the door right in the middle of his song and dance. He was offering me a product; if I bought the product he would get some money for college. I listened politely, kept good eye contact, and tried not to let the Hulk growl. When he was finished I said I wasn’t interested in what he was selling. “You won’t help me get money for school?” he asked.

The Hulk screamed NO! I, on the other hand, trying to appear as the charming older gentleman, offered to give him a buck or two for school. He couldn’t accept a donation; I had to buy the product and then he got a cut of that.

More talk, more discussion. I finally said again I didn’t want what he was selling but wished him well in his educational pursuit. He turned and left with an air that left no doubt what he was thinking: “Crabby ol’ geezer!”

I’d have done just as well unleashing the Hulk the moment I opened the door and heard that lame sales pitch. But I tried to be cordial. I tried the alternative but this kid was bound and determined to unchain the crusty ol’ curmudgeon he expected me to be. I’m fighting a losing battle by trying to keep my irascible side down when everybody under the sun apparently wants me to let it all hang out. It goes without saying politicians, bureaucrats and officials at just about any level make me cranky and cross. But so do salespeople, cashiers, waiters, clerks and people in toll booths who take my money and won’t even smile at me as they’re doing so. Really, who can help but be a bear in a society where so many do so much to make certain you’re growling all the time?

As I said, it’s not my fault I’m crabby. It’s everybody else’s fault that I’m like I am. I’m still trying to be the polite boy my mother raised me to be. It’s other people’s upbringing the Hulk and I are wrestling with.

Bob Morgan is a retired, award-winning journalist and an author.