Names have not been changed to protect the innocent

For as long as I can remember, my nemeses have always been Steves.

Well, not just Steves; this also includes Stevens and Stevies of the world, but not Stephens. Only the ones with a 'V' in their name qualify. I don't know what I could've done to peeve the Steves of the world, but whenever I find myself on the cusp of success, there's always a Steve waiting to thwart it.

The kid in fourth grade who bested me in the class spelling bee? Steve. My freshman year college roommate who had the personality of cheese and the hygiene to match? Steve. The co-worker I shared a workspace with for five years who created more work for me than he managed to complete on his own? Steve. The police officer who pulled me over and probably should've let me off with a warning but gave me a ticket anyway? You guessed it. Officer Steve something. I could go on, but these examples clearly demonstrate a pattern of Steve-induced woe.

So why have the Steves of the world aligned against me? I haven't knowingly acted in ways that would be exclusively offensive to Steves. After all, as a humorist it's not practical for me to be at odds with all of the Steves in the world. I'd be much better off feuding with the Shermans or the Jethros because there are fewer of them and their names are much funnier. (Not that Steve is an unfunny name; please don't take that as a slight.)

Even if I don't know why it began, at the very least I want to end this Steve-specific grudge. I've considered hiring an arbitrator to broker a peace agreement between me and the legions of Steves who are waiting to take my parking space at the mall or refuse my expired coupon at the grocery store. The only problem is I don't know who the ringleader of the Steve army is to invite to the negotiating table. Well, that and everyone I've mentioned this Steve nemesis problem to keeps using phrases like "paranoid schizophrenia" and recommends that I undergo psychiatric evaluation, as if there's something wrong with me. Look at the evidence, I'm the victim here. The victim of a global Steve conspiracy.

Probably the quickest resolution to this Steve-induced misery is to just apologize for whatever I may have done to provoke them. Granted, this means admitting guilt to an offense I may not have perpetrated, but I figure it's better than worrying about having a roommate in the nursing home named Steve who hogs the remote. So if you know any Steves, please assist me by passing along the following apology:

Steves of the world, I am sorry for anything I may have done which either directly or indirectly has caused you harm or irritation. Although I am unable to recall what I may have done to draw your anger, believe me when I say it wasn't my intent to provoke you to the point that you felt it necessary to mobilize your Steve army to wreak havoc on my day-to-day life. I am truly sorry.

It feels good to get this off my chest. Now the healing can begin.

Chris Carlisle is a humor columnist living in the Cincinnati area. You can find his weekly syndicated humor column at www.chriscarlisle.net/ds