OK, so It's "Harass Kabong day". Who's next?

The BBQ Pit
1

I like to think that I interact with larger society in a relatively normal way, but sometimes I’m not so sure.

Todays wierdness started at lunch (at Micky D’s; yeah, so I should have known better). I’m sitting at the table, holding my sandwich in one hand and the ‘lifestyle’ (yeah, as if I’ve got one) section of the paper with the other, when a woman suddenly appears from behind and says: “Can I see the Libra?”. Huh? Oh, you mean the horoscope, in the very section I’m reading. I suppose I could have said, “no”, but then I’d be as rude as her, so I hand over the section, she glances at it for about four seconds, lays it back on the table and strides away, with a sort of mumbled “Thanks” detected drifting over her departing shoulder.

Next, I’m on my way home after another day working late at my miserable office and need to drop some urgent printing off (at Kinko’s; yeah, so I should have known better) for tomorrow. Now, I know I’m going to get a screwed up order back tomorrow morning. How do I know this? Because the drooling idiot behind the counter needed four tries to spell my first name, which for the record is not “El” but “George”, and which I believe is not appreciably harder to spell than “El”. So when I get back four copies of six tests all stapled together, with slip sheets in between, rather than four copies each of six separate tests stapled separately, I’ll accept it as inevitable.

Lastly, I had to stop and get coffee and a few supplies (at Wal-Mart; yeah, so I should have known better). I’m not in the store thirty seconds when I notice I’m being eyed up by a couple of male kids, one short and about 12, the other taller and about 14. I pick up the coffee and walk down one aisle; they follow. I stop for a moment; they stop. I walk over two more aisles they follow; I stop again; they stop. This goes on for a couple more minutes; about the fifth time they start following me down an aisle I turn around and bark “What?” and they run off laughing.

Minor irritants all, but why is it my day to be picked on by assholes?

So, how 'bout it? There’s a few hours left in the day, anyone else want a piece of me?

2

Sometimes you get just these days. Yesterday was my “bizarre compliment day.”

I work at McDonald’s (yeah, so I should have known better) and was working in the drivethrough, taking orders. I always make an effort to be intelligible and articulate, and on an average day I will get 3-4 nice compliments on my voice (which is why I like to work drivethrough). Yesterday there were a few of those, plus…

a.) Three grinning construction workers (no, really - their truck said so) who seemed to think they recognized me from a phone sex line.

CadburyAngel: $7.84 at the first window, please.
Construction worker: Will yoooooou be at the first window?
CA: … Yes.
CW: Goooooooood.

All three of them were grinning so widely that I probably could have determined whether they still had their wisdom teeth or not. The driver made a ton of hand contact while giving me the money and kept flirting aggressively through the whole transaction. His buddies maintained their manic rictuses (ricti?) and kept staring at me. I had the feeling that I was the recipient of some “how to talk to women - make eye contact and smile!” course gone horribly, horribly wrong.

b.) About an hour later, another customer decides to conduct part of his “McDonald’s experience” in French.

CA: Hi, how are you?
Customer: Tres bien, merci! Et tu?
CA: Bien, bien, merci. Il fait beau.
Customer: What was THAT? GERMAN?
CA: Um, not intentionally. We’ll have the food for you at the last window.
Customer: (something I didn’t catch) … tres JOLIE!
CA: (blink blink) Thank you.

c.) I was in the bathroom on my break, and was washing my hands after the necessaries. As I turned toward the door, a VERY tall woman lurched in (I am 5’10" and she was at least three or four inches taller than me). She was already talking as she opened the door and lunged at me, making ferocious eye contact. “YOUR HAIR LOOKS NICE!” How she decided this was her opening line without ever seeing me, I don’t know, but I thanked her politely and escaped.

I swear I had a point when I started this post. Oh, that was it - sometimes these experiences cluster, and I’m sure somebody will be along shortly to explain that we just notice them more at certain times, but damn if it doesn’t make you suspect that you were targeted and didn’t get the memo.

All day today, I have been receiving phone calls which consist of nothing but the sound of marching boots for about thirty seconds, followed by a hangup. Is this some highly abstract Army recruitment message? Could somebody who received the theme day memo tell me what’s going on so I can change my shoes accordingly?

3

One day while working at Score! Educational Center a woman comes in and says,

“I need to use your fax machine. Where is it?”

Flustered at her pushy nature, I ask her if she is a staff member (maybe she’s an important reigonal manager I’ve never met or something) and she says "No, I just need to use your fax machine. I politely tell her that the fax machine is for staff use only, and furthermore I am not qualified to allow/assist her to use the fax machine (the managers were busy at the time). So she asks me where she can use a fax machine. I tell her there’s a Mailbox center a few stores over, but she says she can’t go there, something about not being allowed back in there anymore (imagine that). I suggest perhaps kinko’s has fax machines (I have no idea but am trying to get rid of her) and she wants to know WHERE the nearest kinko’s is. This whole time, I am incredibly busy, trying to keep 12+ elementary school age children focused and on-track on their 12+ individual computer lessons. I tried to make it clear that I was much too busy to help, but she was very pushy and rude, thankfully she left on her own.

4

Today as I was getting in the elevator to go up to a meeting, a woman came up to me and said, “I think I have the best kept secret at [this company.”

“Oh?” I said, halfway intrigued.

“Yep,” she said. “I’m going to come down to this floor to go to the bathroom from now on. There aren’t many women on this floor, so the bathrooms are pretty clean at the end of the day. You probably didn’t want to know all that.” And with that, she shrugs.

She was right–that was not something I wanted to know. It makes sense, cause there aren’t many women on this floor, but I had never really thought about it before.

I said something the lines of “Bully for you.” and got out of the elevator at my stop.

5

He couldn’t spell “George” but he got “Kabong” right on the first try? That’s kind of impressive in a Rainman sort of way.

6

CadburyAngel, that’s why at my McD’s we had perfected the art of muttering “Go fuck yourself” without moving our lips while wearing a bright smile corporate HQ would have been proud of.

7

Okay, I’ll be next.

Kabong, your personal hygiene leaves much to be desired. Your family is ugly, and I fart in your general direction.

Who’s next?

:wink: