Yesterday, I was driving a car into St. Louis to make another delivery. It was pouring rain, and I was trying very hard to find a branch of my bank so I could deposit my check and get some cash. I had found the directions on Mapquest, but was finding it difficult to follow them in this torrential downpour.
Just a few blocks before I reached the bank, a Camaro turned from a side street right in front of me and crept along at 5mph. Now I know it’s a good idea to slow down when the roads are slick, but this was ridiculous. When the left turn lane opened up, I steered into it quickly. About the time I was side by side with the Camaro, it decided to cut over across the striped median into the left turn lane where I was. I honked to alert the driver that I was there and they were about to hit me, and the car slammed on its brakes.
When I got into the parking lot, I found a spot as close as possible to the door. I had to run for it, yet still I got drenched. I saw a woman running up as I opened the door, so I decided to be polite and hold the door for her. She stopped in front of me and pointed her finger in my face. “I hate you!”
“Beg pardon?”
“I hate you, and all people like you. But what goes around comes around, you cut me off and now I’m going to cut you off and get into the building first. HA!” She ran in before me.
“What exactly are you talking about?”
“You know what you did, don’t act so surprised.”
“I’m honestly confused.”
“Don’t play dumb. Karma is going to descend on you and bite you in the butt.”
“Can you tell me what I did wrong?”
“You cut me and my Camaro off when I tried to get into the left lane.”
“Excuse me, but you almost hit me, and came across the painted striped median to do it.”
“Shut up! I don’t want to hear any more of your lies! I hate people who drive Toyotas like you.”
“I am driving a Ford Fusion.”
“Don’t you try to change the subject! You know what you did, and you should be ashamed of yourself.”
“I don’t want any hard feelings here, but—“
“Please just shut your mouth, you’re embarrassing yourself. I’ve got a good mind to slap your face.”
“If I did anything to offend you, then I sincerely apologize. I’m all for peace and harmony on the highways.”
“You are a sick, twisted man. And I’ve heard just about enough from you.”
“But—“ She interrupted me by raising her hands over her head and lifting one foot high in the air. I thought perhaps she was attempting a bizarre martial arts move. In fact, it sort of reminded me of the ‘Crane’ move from the original KARATE KID movie. She held her foot precariously close to my face.
“Talk to the foot,” she said.
I was truly baffled. “What?”
She put her foot down and became very emotional. “People like you just think you own the world, that you’re king of the universe. You make me want to vomit. I don’t talk to people like you. Now go away and leave me the hell alone!” She stormed off and went down the hall into the bank. I gave her a good head start, and then went into the bank myself and stood at the counter to fill out my deposit slip. She was standing at a Teller Window, yammering on about the mean SOB who had cut her off and then spoken to her disrespectfully out in the hall.
I tried to lay low, but as she was walking out she saw me. She reached into her purse and pulled out a whistle, and began blowing it loudly. “Karma police, karma police! There’s a bad driver here who needs to be taught a lesson.” She leaned in close to me and spoke ominously. “I can promise you that I will never forget you, Mister.”
Oddly enough, I don’t think I’ll ever forget her either.
Showing posts with label angry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label angry. Show all posts
Monday, September 13, 2010
Monday, June 28, 2010
Census Taking Fool?
After several unhappy incidents recently on my driving job, I thought I might take a break and take a temp job as a Census Taker. The ads were everywhere, and it seemed like it would be an easy job to get.
I went online and found the info I needed to fill out. A few weeks later, I got a call saying that I needed to speak fluent Spanish to do this job, for I might knock on a door where no one in the household speaks English. "So the onus is on me to know how to speak their language, and not on them to be able to speak English in America?" The cheerful Census worker on the phone said, "With Obama comes change."
Whatever that means.
After a few more weeks, I got another call saying I had been hired. I was talking to someone new, and reminded him that I still did not speak Spanish. He didn't know what I was talking about, and said speaking fluent Spanish was only a requirement if you were to be working in a primarily Hispanic area. So I was given my start date, and was told it would begin with one week of training.
I arrived early on my first morning of training at the First Haitian Church of the Emancipated Episcopalian Disciples of the Messiah. It was in the worst part of town, a real ghetto area, and I was a bit concerned about parking my car there. In fact, a rather dicey looking gentleman accosted me outside my car, asking if I'd like to pay him to watch my car and see nothing happened to it. But I had a rental, it was fully insured, so I just thought "Come what may. Screw it, its a rental."
When I walked into the classroom, I was immediately shouted at by the strict, stern, tall and mean woman who would be our trainer. She appeared to be of Mediterranean descent, and had eyes that could burn through the back of your skull. "Why are you here?"
"I'm Bill, I'm here for the Census class."
"Yes, but why are you so early? My class does not begin for 15 more minutes. Did you hear what I said? MY CLASS."
"I just thought..."
"You thought? Tell you what, don't think. OK? Just do as I say and we will all get along just fine. You can start by going outside and wait there til I open the door and invite everyone in."
So I went out and stood in the hot morning sun, and little by little other classmates arrived. I warned them not to go in, but a few of them disregarded my warning. They were met with the same angry admonishments as was I, and they soon joined us back outside. Finally, at one minute til 8am, we were invited in by our teacher, Ms. Suuboco. She led the class with an iron fist, and would take no nonsense and no talking out of turn. I expected her to pull out a ruler and start smacking the back of people's hands, but instead she would just humiliate anyone who dared to defy her. She told us all to get our pencils (which she supplied us) sharpened by the next day. I went to Office Depot, Staples, Office Max, and other places hoping to find an electric pencil sharpener on display. No luck.
The next day, the first thing she said was for us to get out our sharpened pencils. I put mine out, and she immediately saw that they were not ready. "What's the matter, Bill, can't you follow simple instructions? Is it too much for you to sharpen four little pencils? Was that too much of me to ask you? Because clearly all of your classmates accomplished the task." I tried to tell her about all the places I went to sharpen the pencils, and she reached into my supply bag and took out a tiny pink plastic box. "This is a portable pencil sharpener, Bill, and that is what you should have used."
"I've never seen one of these." And that was the truth, I never had! I always used a mechanical pencil in school, the kind you twist to get new lead up. Ms. Suuboco did not believe me, and kept on saying snide remarks about my inability to do a simple task.
"Tell you what Bill, I think you should take your four pencils and your amazing new portable sharpener and go stand in the back corner of the room til you have sharpened them all. What do you think?"
"I think... I don't know what to think."
"Don't try to think, it will give you a headache. Just do as I say, right now."
I felt very embarrassed and a bit humiliated as I dragged back to do as she said. This was the first time I was told to stand in the corner since Kindergarten, though I don't remember feeling quite so ashamed about it back then. I looked out the window and watched cars drive by, and suddenly my driving job started looking really good to me once again. I began to feel the wanderlust surging through me.
After I got back to my seat, Ms. Suuboco started to call on me frequently to answer questions. But before I could even begin to answer, she'd interrupt and say, "Oh never mind, I'm sorry, we went over that material while you were standing in the corner." I felt crushed.
The class continued for the rest of the week. The teacher never let up, but in fact got a lot tougher and nastier. Not much fun at all. Once I got out into the field, I realized just how much most citizens did not want to deal with Census takers. As nice a guy as I am, and as charming as I tried to be, it was all for naught on this job. People didn't see Bill Thomas at their door, they saw The U.S. Government, and many of them threatened me and told me to get off their property quick or else. Each time a car would drive by and I'd feel the slight breeze it left behind brush across my face, I'd remember my life as a Driving Fool. Time to get back on the road again!
I went online and found the info I needed to fill out. A few weeks later, I got a call saying that I needed to speak fluent Spanish to do this job, for I might knock on a door where no one in the household speaks English. "So the onus is on me to know how to speak their language, and not on them to be able to speak English in America?" The cheerful Census worker on the phone said, "With Obama comes change."
Whatever that means.
After a few more weeks, I got another call saying I had been hired. I was talking to someone new, and reminded him that I still did not speak Spanish. He didn't know what I was talking about, and said speaking fluent Spanish was only a requirement if you were to be working in a primarily Hispanic area. So I was given my start date, and was told it would begin with one week of training.
I arrived early on my first morning of training at the First Haitian Church of the Emancipated Episcopalian Disciples of the Messiah. It was in the worst part of town, a real ghetto area, and I was a bit concerned about parking my car there. In fact, a rather dicey looking gentleman accosted me outside my car, asking if I'd like to pay him to watch my car and see nothing happened to it. But I had a rental, it was fully insured, so I just thought "Come what may. Screw it, its a rental."
When I walked into the classroom, I was immediately shouted at by the strict, stern, tall and mean woman who would be our trainer. She appeared to be of Mediterranean descent, and had eyes that could burn through the back of your skull. "Why are you here?"
"I'm Bill, I'm here for the Census class."
"Yes, but why are you so early? My class does not begin for 15 more minutes. Did you hear what I said? MY CLASS."
"I just thought..."
"You thought? Tell you what, don't think. OK? Just do as I say and we will all get along just fine. You can start by going outside and wait there til I open the door and invite everyone in."
So I went out and stood in the hot morning sun, and little by little other classmates arrived. I warned them not to go in, but a few of them disregarded my warning. They were met with the same angry admonishments as was I, and they soon joined us back outside. Finally, at one minute til 8am, we were invited in by our teacher, Ms. Suuboco. She led the class with an iron fist, and would take no nonsense and no talking out of turn. I expected her to pull out a ruler and start smacking the back of people's hands, but instead she would just humiliate anyone who dared to defy her. She told us all to get our pencils (which she supplied us) sharpened by the next day. I went to Office Depot, Staples, Office Max, and other places hoping to find an electric pencil sharpener on display. No luck.
The next day, the first thing she said was for us to get out our sharpened pencils. I put mine out, and she immediately saw that they were not ready. "What's the matter, Bill, can't you follow simple instructions? Is it too much for you to sharpen four little pencils? Was that too much of me to ask you? Because clearly all of your classmates accomplished the task." I tried to tell her about all the places I went to sharpen the pencils, and she reached into my supply bag and took out a tiny pink plastic box. "This is a portable pencil sharpener, Bill, and that is what you should have used."
"I've never seen one of these." And that was the truth, I never had! I always used a mechanical pencil in school, the kind you twist to get new lead up. Ms. Suuboco did not believe me, and kept on saying snide remarks about my inability to do a simple task.
"Tell you what Bill, I think you should take your four pencils and your amazing new portable sharpener and go stand in the back corner of the room til you have sharpened them all. What do you think?"
"I think... I don't know what to think."
"Don't try to think, it will give you a headache. Just do as I say, right now."
I felt very embarrassed and a bit humiliated as I dragged back to do as she said. This was the first time I was told to stand in the corner since Kindergarten, though I don't remember feeling quite so ashamed about it back then. I looked out the window and watched cars drive by, and suddenly my driving job started looking really good to me once again. I began to feel the wanderlust surging through me.
After I got back to my seat, Ms. Suuboco started to call on me frequently to answer questions. But before I could even begin to answer, she'd interrupt and say, "Oh never mind, I'm sorry, we went over that material while you were standing in the corner." I felt crushed.
The class continued for the rest of the week. The teacher never let up, but in fact got a lot tougher and nastier. Not much fun at all. Once I got out into the field, I realized just how much most citizens did not want to deal with Census takers. As nice a guy as I am, and as charming as I tried to be, it was all for naught on this job. People didn't see Bill Thomas at their door, they saw The U.S. Government, and many of them threatened me and told me to get off their property quick or else. Each time a car would drive by and I'd feel the slight breeze it left behind brush across my face, I'd remember my life as a Driving Fool. Time to get back on the road again!
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