Saturday, November 14, 2009

It's Not You, It's Your Personality

When I see someone I know at the grocery store, the amount of interaction I have with this person is determined by one thing; happy hour. Would I have a beer with this individual? If yes, then by all means, I'll stop rummaging around for the freshest bag of salad and catch up with her for a couple minutes. Would I rather dump a beer on her head and then laugh in her face? Yes? In that case, a small wave is all I can manage, and hopefully she'll get the hint and move along to the frozen food section.

My own little slice of hell occurs when I run into the Most Annoying Person in the World (some people call her Maxine). She interprets the small wave and the lack of eye contact as "sure, come take up ten minutes of my time, talking to me about you, you, you, and other stuff I don't care about."

Yesterday, after pre-burning a few cocktail calories at the club, I stopped at the store. Since I had skipped the super fun communal shower hour, I was still in my sweaty gym clothes and wanted to sprint in, buy limes and bananas, and sprint out without too many people saying "Ewww, gross." Unfortunately, Maxine was right inside the door, I was only jogging instead of sprinting, and my small wave was more of a full arm swing.

"Well hi there! How is your school year going? Is everyone off to a good start? What are you doing with all your free time? I never see you anymore." Maxine chirped, anxiously waiting for my answer so she could tell me all about herself.

"School year is good. Kids are good. Beating them helps. I've just been doing drugs in my free time." I really don't care what this woman thinks of me.

After she laughed nervously, not quite knowing what part I was kidding about, she continued with "Are the boys in any sports? Because my kids play soccer. They're all really good at soccer."

Oh hell. Here we go. "Yes. the boys play tennis a few times a week. And Zoe started about a year ago and plays once a week."

"Oh my. That's quite a bit of tennis! Do they play because they like it, or are they actually good?" Seriously, who asks this? And how am I supposed to answer this kind of question without sounding like an asshole?

"No. They're not very good. I suppose that's why Zach played varsity for the high school last year. As a seventh grader." I don't mind sounding like an asshole.

"Hmmm. That sounds interesting. Well my kids play soccer. Did you know that? My daughter plays college soccer. She plays down in bzzzzzzzzzbzzzzzzbzzzzzzbzzzzzzzz soccer bzzzzzzzbzzzzzzzzbzzz bzzzzzzzzbzzbzzbzzzzzzzzzz. Isn't that great? She's amazing."

I regained consciousness just in time to say "Wow. Yeah. You must be proud. That's really something! I gotta go pee, so I guess I better go so I don't make a mess here."

"It was great catching up with you. I'm sure your boys will catch onto that tennis thing. I'll see you later!" I wanted to grab a pomegranate off of the nearby display and throw it at her face.

By the time I was driving home, I wasn't really irritated about the conversation anymore and was looking forward to grilling burgers and having a fun Friday evening happy hour with Doug. But then it occurred to me; I forgot to buy the damn limes!

1 comment:

LG said...

Brightens my Saturday to read your blog! Not sure I know Maxine personally, but there are a few of those out there!