Friday, August 20, 2004

Downtrodden barefoot revisited

In the first posting or two I ever made here, I complained about some security geek with a clipboard giving me grief for walking barefoot in the parking garage. Well, guess what? I came home tonight and there he was again. This time, he had some other guy with him. For no reason at all, he buttholes me on my way to the door, and starts telling me he's training this other guy because the security company is sending him to another site... one in --> THE <-- reputedly worst part of town...

First of all... why do I give a shit?

Second of all... yay, couldn't happen to a geeker dork.

Anyway, just to be nice, I chit-chatted with these fellahs. The trainee seemed okay... but I started getting a vibe off the pencil neck. And suddenly I was right back in the library with Mr. "Hello, sir, have you read Larry Niven's Ringworld? Oh you should and by the way I write like him and can I have your e-mail address?". I hadn't talked with him long enough that first time to realize that the building is being guarded by a guy with an IQ that, if it were a temperature in Fahrenheit, probably wouldn't even make you break out in a sweat. This guy is missing teeth. This guy is wearing glasses that went out of style when I was 14... and he's younger than me. And he starts asking me all these questions about my personalized plate that he noticed when I drove in. Call me paranoid, but I'm not real big on guys who probably couldn't get past grade eight taking a real interest in me, my life, or aspects of it. So I excused myself and got out of there, and—I'm not kidding—I actually shook my shoulders in that involuntary "FUCK that creeped me out!!" kinda way as I walked down the hall.

Then I kicked off my sandals and climbed the stairs barefoot, as usual. Up yours, Batman of the Ozarks. :)

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