The Mime War.
I seem to have gotten up on the wrong side of the bed on the wrong foot.
I’m driving out of my apartment building’s parking complex and approached the street entrance. I see an elderly couple walking toward me. There’s plenty of time before we cross paths, so I just start to roll out into the street. Quickly, I stop for a caravan of speeding cars that I hadn’t seen because of all the cars parked on the street next to the driveway. I have more than enough time to come to a stop, but this puts the tail end of my car in front of that elderly couple.
The old man was in front and he didn’t even slow as I rolled past, so when I stop, he makes a big overreaction to it while his wife just walks around. He then walks around and makes to catch my eye. I look and he starts to give me the signal where you make a peace sign pointed at your eyes and then at the other person as if to say “watch where you’re going, asshole” (the asshole is optional). My first instinct is to apologize. Not because I feel bad but because there’s even an incident and I just want it defused. This old fart reacts by making the motion again, but this time with an angrier face.
The asshole is no longer optional.
I get PISSED. This is the shit that happens all the time whenever you show even a little bit courtesy or maturity by owning up to your part in a bad situation. It’s no one’s fault, but everyone needs someone to blame. I immediately begin to give this guy some over-the-top pantomime of “A-OK” and the thumbs up while wearing my sarcastic face. The bug up his ass crawls even deeper as we face off in an epic gesture battle royale. The way is clear now, so I go. In my rear-view mirror I see this shit-wit charging over to the security guard booth to tattle on me and I realize I had just hit a new low.
I JUST FOUGHT A MIME WAR WITH AN OLD MAN.
WTF.
I don’t have time for this, I gotta get to work. Stopping by Jack in the Box I pull into the drive-thru behind a woman in a bright yellow Mazda with a bumper sticker that says “Grown Here, Not Flown Here.” Well for someone repping at being a local, she’s apparently never been to a Jack in the Box before as she sits at the first menu, screaming her order. Par for the course except that the first menu is just to look at while you wait for your turn at the order menu. This finally dawns on her and she pulls up. Thank god, because I don’t want to get into another argument today.
My turn at the order window and I’m trying to convince them I know what I want.
“Fun“ployee (thick Philipino accent): “What to drink?”
Me: Medium Diet Coke.
F: What size?
M: Medium.
F: Large?
M: MEDIUM!
F: Ruut Beer?
M: DIET COKE!
I pull forward and am given a drink:
F: Here your medium Pruit Punch.
I just took it. Close enough.
Finally, I’m here at work… a retail customer service job. Sometimes I hate people.
That is all.
Haz-Matt