Monday, October 15, 2001

Fun at Lunchtime ...

I spent my entire lunch hour inadvertently offending people.

Let's get one thing straight. I try to be as nice to people, all people, as much as humanly possible, particularly those who work in service professions. Having worked as a waitress at Ponderosa Steakhouse (high school) and at Speedway gas station (college), I know full well that service professions are:
a) no fun, and
b) not made any easier by nasty people.

Today is payday, so like most paydays, I used my lunch hour to run around doing errands. My first stop was the bank to grab some cash and get a money order. The reason for the money order: On my way to Pennsylvania this weekend, I completely neglected to check my purse to ensure that I had enough money for turnpike tolls. Upon my arrival at the exit nearest my parents' house, I found myself 75 cents short of the toll. The big scary Turnpike Man took down my name, social security number, license plate number, and drivers' license number (I was a bit surprised he didn't ask for a blood sample too), told me to keep the $1 I had towards the toll, and handed me a form instructing me to send the $1.75 toll (plus a $1 'handling fee,' of course) to the listed address. No personal checks accepted. Send a money order, dammit.

I asked the bank teller for the money order, and she recoiled as though I were trying to deposit a live coyote:

Her: You want a money order for how much??
Me: $2.75 please.
Her: Two dollars and seventy-five cents????
Me: Yes, please.
Her: WHY?
Me: (explaining whole turnpike scenario)
Her: Damn, girl. If I were you, I just wouldn't pay it.
Me: Uh. Well, I figure I'd better not go around angering the PA Turnpike Commission. It's not really a big deal.
Her: Man, that is bullshit.
Me: (looking around for television camera. this is obviously a joke.) Ha ha ha.
Her: So you really want a money order for $2.75?
Me: Yes. Please.

I left the bank and soon after was sitting in my car at a traffic light on Euclid Avenue. Both windows were open. Looking to my right, I noticed the gentlemen in the car in the next lane was trying to get my attention. He was doing that thing. You know, that slimy-guy thing where he looks at you with his chin extended, eyelids half-closed, smirks, and then does a sort of protracted nod. This, I've discovered, is urban body language which means "I am checking you out, and will now commence an unabashed, overtly-confident campaign to get into your pants."

Him: Girrrrrrrrllll. How you doin'?

(Note: Many of you are reading this and thinking, 'Gawd, Kate. Why didn't you just ignore him?' Ha, I say to you. These guys are like the worst sort of insult comics, except horny ... they have an answer for everything. You ignore them and they start shouting, honking the horn, using obscenities, calling for backup, dispatching helicopters, etc.)
Me: (Glancing at my watch in obviously-staged attempt to look like I'm in a hurry) Fine, thanks.
Him: You wanna go to lunch with me?
Me: No. I'm late for an appointment.
Him: Oh, OK. Then lemme get those digits.

(Note: Here's where it gets tricky. Once again, we're faced with the prospect that there is no answer that allows a woman to gracefully bow out of this proposition.

Possible Lie/Excuse #1: I can't. I live with my boyfriend/husband.
Inevitable Response: Girl, I don't care about him. I wanna call and talk to you.

Possible Lie/Excuse #2: I don't have a phone.
Inevitable Response: That's OK. Just tell me where you stay and I'll come see you.

Possible Lie/Excuse #3: I'm gay.
Inevitable Response: (insert requisite slimy guy oh-that's-sexy/can-i-watch/assorted-innuendo here).

There's no good answer.)

Me: My parents don't allow me to date.
Him: (calls me a name that rhymes with 'bunt,' then suggests I should have relations with myself)
(Light changes, I zoom away).

Next stop: Drive-up window to grab lunch. I pulled into Wendy's, ordered a baked potato and a salad, then made my way to the window where I was told my total ($4.27) and gave the cashier some money ($20.27). Quick! Math quiz! How much money should Kate have received in change? That's right. The answer is $16. The cashier handed me my food and $15.

Me: Excuse me. I need another dollar back.
Her: Why?
Me: You only gave me $15.
Her: (stares at me indignantly)
Me: My total was $4.27. I gave you $20.27, so I get $16 back. You only gave me $15.
Her: I know. Don't try to tell me how to do my job. Now I have to get the damn register key. (walking away) Damn white girl gonna tell me how to make change. Uh-uh.
Me: (Rests forehead against steering wheel, realizes this sort of thing is the reason I'm stressed out all the time).
Her (reappearing): Here's your damn dollar.
Me (meekly): Thanks.

Is it any wonder I have a headache?

 
posted by Kate at 2:54 PM link/comments