I must look like the kind of person that you just want to talk to. Strangers are constantly just striking up conversations with me. The thing is, they are all weird. I never get the normal person who turns into a good friend. Just weirdos.
Like when I was at the mechanic’s a few weeks ago, and I was just waiting for my inspection. This nice old man came in, sat down next to me, and smiled. So eventually he started talking about how cold it is. I had to concur; it was indeed a chilly day that day. But then the conversation took a turn:
Man: “You know, my wife is always complaining that she’s cold.”
Me: “Yeah, today it certainly is...”
Man: “And I told her, that is because she doesn’t wear cotton panties.”
Me: “oh...”
Man: “I mean, you can’t wear polyester panties and expect to stay warm. You know?”
Me: “Yeah. Gotta stick with the cotton underpants.”
[I hate the word “panties” as much as Maria, so I chose different wording.]
Man: “Exactly! Well, have a good day.”
Then he just got up and left. Like imparting that important wisdom on me was it for the day.
I have had a woman talking to me about fruit at Stop & Shop, asking me what I thought she should buy. Last week I had a woman at Target yelling at me that they didn’t have enough pants for short people. (She must have thought we were comrades in shortness and figured I would be just as indignant.)
But probably the worst one I ever had was when I went to visit my parents in Florida. My dad took me to WalMart to buy something, and on our way out he had to use the bathroom (he’s old). So I was just standing at the end of an unused check-out line, waiting.
This old man approaches me, so I smile at him. Gotta be nice to the elderly, right?
So I get:
Old man: “Is that what they pay you for?”
Me: [still smiling like an idiot] “Excuse me?”
Old man: “Is that what they PAY you for? Just standing around like that?”
Me: [I just stare at him, mouth agape.]
Old man: “That may be fine today, but let me tell you hon, that won’t work when it gets busy this weekend. They won’t be happy to pay you to just STAND there.”
Me: “I don’t actually work here.” [I look down to be sure I am not accidentally wearing a bright blue vest with a happy smiley face on it, and I surely wasn’t.]
Old man: “Pshh. Kids today.”
And he leaves in a snit! Like I am being unreasonable! Like he didn’t just accuse me, on my vacation, of working at WalMart and not doing a good enough job! Crotchety old guy.
