No, really. Jesus Christ.
So I stopped into my favorite local guitar shop on the way home from work. I have been pricing and playing various guitars with vague hopes of scraping together enough cash to buy a new electric.
I walk to the back, pick up an Ibanez AXS32, plug it in, and start testing it out. At some point in there, two barely-adolescent gothed-out girls wandered over and asked if I minded if they listen. I said no problem, played a little more, and one of them remarked, “I like that.”
I thanked her, and asked if she played. She responded that she was learning, ad that she had yet to buy a decent guitar, but was saving up.
I encouraged her to keep it up, etc.
At this point, a person who was presumably the mother of one or both the girls, comes clopping over in her wooden shoes and in a state of great agitation.
Mom: “Come away from there right now!”
Girl 1: …
Me (with kind of a halfway grin, cause I can’t believe this is happening): Hi. Were just talking…about…gui…
Mom: Ignores me. Refuses to acknowledge my existence.
Girl 1: “We were ju…”
Mom: Clops over to her and grabs her wrist, dragging her off. Shoots me PainfulHideousDeath glare as she does.
Girl 2 follows.
I just sat there for a few minutes, utterly mortified, face on fire. Jesus Christ, lady! They’re kids! I wasn’t hitting on them. I was just having a friendly conversation. You know, like humans do.
It’s still making me oogy hours later, just thinking about it. I’m sure all this just goes to show something, but I’m damned if I know what.