I realize that most of you won't be able to read it because only people with whom I REALLY have no desire to converse can see it. I'm pretty sure that, in big, bright, flashing letters it says:
PLEASE TALK TO ME! I DON'T CARE IF YOU SMELL OR WE DON'T SPEAK THE SAME LANGUAGE, SPEAK TO ME ANYWAYS. OH YEAH, IF I MAKE LIKE I DON'T WANT TO TALK TO YOU, KEEP TALKING!
Right, so I went to get some french fries and happened to be in the line of the cashier who must have been haveily medicated as he was moving at the speed of, well, slow. In front of me is a short, hairy, slightly smelly man. Now, when I say short, I mean shorter than me. I'm 5'2" Get the picture? Let me paint more. Button down shirt, open at least three buttons exposing his gold necklaces making love to his gray chest hair. Throwing up yet?
He's staring at me and starts to speak to me in Spanish which I politely ignore. Lucky for me, he's bilingual! Here's what he's staring at:
He then proceeds to start talking about my necklace and how it's so delicate and blabitty, blabitty, blah. I'm sorry, I just want to get my fries and leave. But, slow boy cashier has NOT picked up the pace. I have given either one word answers to his incessant questioning or ignored it completely, but does that stop him? Uh, hell no.
His next line is that I look like an artist. No, wait, an actress. I've seen her, yes, she is very funny. I look just like her! Did I justify this with a response? No. But I do know about whom he was speaking because I've heard it before. Let's take a poll. Do you think I resemble this person (outside of skin color and hair)?
Riiiiight. Oh, yeah, I have my glasses on today since I like to see. Anyways…
You might think that the conversation would end here, but no, it doesn't. Because I look like her except younger. What are you, like 19? I'm 34. 24? No, 34. WHAT?!?! Well, it is certainly not because you eat here all the time. Do you cook at home?
I'm sorry, I fail to see how this is any of your G-D business!
At this point I have my cell phone out and am texting furiously to deter him from speaking to me further. Not working. I'm not even kidding when I say that this next part is a direct quote.
"If I'm not bothering you, what is it that you do?"
IF YOU'RE NOT BOTHERING ME?!?! <sigh>
I'm an analyst. Ohhh, you must be the boss. No, I'm not the boss. I do not wish to be the boss. Ohhh, but why not?!?! <insert desire to punch an old man here>
Well, you must give me your card. (thank goodness that I've only recently been promoted and my cards are not in yet) I just ignored that request.
He says that he is writing a book. He's "green". For the last 5 years he's been riding his bike everywhere. He doesn't pay for gas (although I don't know if that means he steals it). His book is about being green. Hey, way to be original. So, tell me, analyst, how can I market my book. <insert larger desire to punch old man here>
I'm not in marketing. But you're an analyst! OMG, please get your food and go away now!
And finally, he did. Another day on South Beach.