i found this in my gmail as a draft
i think i can listen to and deal with women more than any man. it's my job. and generally it's fine. but then, certain customers....
so many older women are soooooooo boring. i'll listen to what young jimmy wanted for breakfast this morning as part of how you're explaining what kind of sofa you have if you at least act like you're borrowing someone's time. try to entertain me. try to make me care. don't just drone on.
the reason i get so mad is that i know they're thinking 'oh he just doesn't care' or that i'm rude. but it's your fault. you're boring. i'm more than kind and even interested in 95% of the women that come in and tell me the same kinds of stories about home and the boys in college. but you i hate. you, i've grown to being immediately rude to. you i won't take. it's your fault. you talk slowly and quietly and peacefully as if no one in the world has anything to do. i hate you old woman. you make me sick as much as a gross perverted 30 year old man with ricked up teeth would
she just came up here again. i know she thinks i'm into typing on the computer and i'm ignoring her and she's the kind that would tell on me to my aunt - but in a nice way. she loves me to a degree. which is why she's so sickening - but the funny thing is my aunt would come to me and i'd vent to her immediately and she'd widen her eyes and laugh and know exactly what i'm talking about and already knows what i'm talking about and also vents about how annoying she is and how hard she is to get away from.
but she came up with this teddy bear again, massaging it over and over every which way in such a sickening way saying her hands are getting blacker and blacker from it. i look away from her without speaking. she says it would need cleaned. i try to avoid her gaze. she proffers it to me to rub it's head and look at how my hands get dirty too. i won't. she laughs, and slightly wins some points. she's used to how her grandkids act and so she's laughing at how i think she's weird
'i'm trying to figure out what this plays'
my cue to indulge her
she's dying for me to say things, it'll lead to her saying more
so many older women are soooooooo boring. i'll listen to what young jimmy wanted for breakfast this morning as part of how you're explaining what kind of sofa you have if you at least act like you're borrowing someone's time. try to entertain me. try to make me care. don't just drone on.
the reason i get so mad is that i know they're thinking 'oh he just doesn't care' or that i'm rude. but it's your fault. you're boring. i'm more than kind and even interested in 95% of the women that come in and tell me the same kinds of stories about home and the boys in college. but you i hate. you, i've grown to being immediately rude to. you i won't take. it's your fault. you talk slowly and quietly and peacefully as if no one in the world has anything to do. i hate you old woman. you make me sick as much as a gross perverted 30 year old man with ricked up teeth would
she just came up here again. i know she thinks i'm into typing on the computer and i'm ignoring her and she's the kind that would tell on me to my aunt - but in a nice way. she loves me to a degree. which is why she's so sickening - but the funny thing is my aunt would come to me and i'd vent to her immediately and she'd widen her eyes and laugh and know exactly what i'm talking about and already knows what i'm talking about and also vents about how annoying she is and how hard she is to get away from.
but she came up with this teddy bear again, massaging it over and over every which way in such a sickening way saying her hands are getting blacker and blacker from it. i look away from her without speaking. she says it would need cleaned. i try to avoid her gaze. she proffers it to me to rub it's head and look at how my hands get dirty too. i won't. she laughs, and slightly wins some points. she's used to how her grandkids act and so she's laughing at how i think she's weird
'i'm trying to figure out what this plays'
my cue to indulge her
she's dying for me to say things, it'll lead to her saying more
on a whim, chad was marco @ 4:34 PM
3 $BlogItemCommentCount$:
At 3:58 PM,
Lou said…
damn, that's rough......I mean what can you say? "Excuse me, miss, I think it's better for me if you stop talking now and just come to the desk when you know you're ready to buy something." If life could be that easy. It definitely is draining and gets the blood up at the same time. It's amazing how only a few words can affect my overall demeanor. But it's easier to deal with, for me, when I know the person is acting unreasonable. This woman just seems....bothersome, and what can you do? Maybe she's reaching out in a way, maybe she wishes only to hear her voice, maybe she doesn't even know what the hell she's doing. No matter what, though, you suffer....and you can't let them know. I feel for you man, but I still just laughed out loud after writing the previous sentence. be strong
At 5:55 PM,
chad was marco said…
haha, man, the door's fixed with record quickness, you hitting the nail on the head so many times.
if anyone doesn't want to read my full post, the cliff notes are down here in lou's comments.
yeah, bothersome. it's fun for some reason to hate bothersome people more than horrible people. horrible people make you hate them, but bothersome people make you hate yourself.
a little.
i like recognizing that and so hope to point it out with a fury next time
would that hitler walked through that door with a mind to axe my store supply rather than after hearing the jingling bell door, up and set mine eyes and ears on your bothersome melon
anyway, at this point in time since after writing the post months ago, i'm not quite sure what lady i was referring to..
when are you in next?
At 8:43 AM,
Anonymous said…
I wonder if, as we get older, we'll have less and less time for having more time. I can't help but think that your lack of posting is due to more time spent working.
Or maybe you just spend more time enjoying life and less on the internet.
Or maybe you're just happier and the whole "no reason to write when you're happy" thing is kicking in.
I had a dream that you and Steve lived down the street from me, and we were always making movies in the middle of the day and talking about how we should put them online and make a really cool website that people would come to and inevitably would follow the sugar, money and power.
Okay so it wasn't a "dream" more than just something I was thinking of.
I constantly wish that I had more friends - er, that the friends I had were more accessible. If magnet trains could take me from here to Kuhar's in about 30 minutes...
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