I’m sure you’re a great guy, really. Everytime you see me hurrying on my way to the office, you flag me down so that you can say something nice to me. You’re friendly and that’s good. I could stand to be more outwardly friendly myself, and it sucks sometimes that I’m not. There’s probably whole legions of people who think I’m some icy bitch because of that flaw of mine. And yet I still make an effort to exchange a quick pleasantry with you. When I see you, I smile and am cordial. But nothing more than that.
So when are you going to take the hint that I don’t want to have lunch with you? How many times do I need to blow you off on a request for lunch before you realize that I DON’T FREAKING WANT TO HAVE LUNCH WITH YOU? You look to be in your late 60’s (I dunno, I suck at aging people, but you look like you have at least 30 years on me), so obviously you’re not new to the game here, buddy 'o mine. So I’m wondering why you’re so clueless.
Get this: When you have to assail a woman 20-some odd times with the same question and you always get an answer you don’t want (“I don’t really ever take lunch.” “I’m really very busy.” “I eat on the go, sorry.”) then perhaps, just perhaps, she doesn’t want to have lunch with your ass and you should stop fuckin’ harrassing her. She doesn’t want to hurt your feelings by saying “Hell to the naw” with a scrunched up expression on her face, as if she just got a whiff of hot sewage. Her prefered method of saying no is more oblique than that. Should this woman grow some ovaries and just say no accompanied with body language that more explicity communicates what she is feeling? Yeah she should, cuz obviously the more subtle stuff ain’t sinking in. But just like being outwardly friendly sometimes is a challenge for her, sometimes being outwardly blunt is as well. She’s relying on you to TAKE A MOTHERFUCKING HINT so that she doesn’t have to stomp on your pride. Why oh why can’t you stop while you’re ahead?
You are harrassing me now. I went to grab some chips from the store downstairs and here comes you, following me right into the stairwell. I hadn’t seen you in a week and I didn’t even think to wonder whether you’d ask me about lunch again. I just thought you were going to talk about the weather or some shit like that. But noooooooo. No sooner than the second flight of stairs, you start bugging me again. Quite pointedly, with no smile on my face, I say “You’re quite persistent, aren’t you?” You know what that was? That was your cue to SHUT UP. But you didn’t take it. You plowed right along as if you didn’t understand that “you’re quite persistent, aren’t you?” is a polite way of calling you an obnoxious creep who needs to get hit with some clue-by-fours. Do I need to get a sharpy and spell all of this out to you on your hand?
Actually, I pit myself. Not you. Because when I came to my suite and you stood there waiting for my response like some dog waiting for a biscuit, I didn’t tell you to fuck off like I should have. I didn’t even say a flat-out, unequivocal no. I stood there for a couple seconds thinking of some nice way of blowing you off again, as if you even deserve that consideration, and I threw you some lame excuse. Just to get you to go away. But if the past is any indication, this excuse will only buy me temporary relief. I won’t be surprised if you bother me again next week.
And why is it that I run into you so often anyway? We don’t even work for the same agency and yet I seem to “randomly” stumble across your path more than anyone else in this 10-story building. You’re either stalking me or you’re spending too much time in the lobby or in front of the elevators, not doing any work. God, I hope you’re retiring soon.
