Long Ago and Far Away

Due to lack of other activities, I have decided to pull from my vault of awkward moments and make a post.

I was wandering through the New Jersey airport on my way from Paris to Vermont last year, looking for the right place to sit down with my book and a cup of coffee. On one of the moving sidewalks, I saw a girl going the opposite direction on the moving sidewalk right next to me. She looked familiar, but I couldn't quite place her before she was behind me. Then I realized that she had lived on my floor for the last semester of college. I wasn't going to go out of my way to talk to her because I didn't even know her, but I did think to myself that it was a funny coincidence that were were in such close proximity in the same airport, etc. But then she came back from her food run and sat down in the gate area next to me, which got me thinking about whether or not we should speak to each other. I know my mother would definitely have gone over to her, or my sister, but I just didn't see the point. Aside from living on the same floor as her, I didn't know anything about her, and I imagined the conversation would go like this:

Me: Hi! I think you lived on my floor last year!
Girl: I guess so!
Me: What a small world!
Girl: Well I live in New Jersey.
Me: Okay! How is school?
Girl: Great. I am happy for the break.
Me: Okay. Well bye!

I just generally do not like small talk, or maybe I'm not good at it, but I figured if I spent two years at a small school with this girl, and one semester on the same floor of a small dorm with her, and we never shared so much as a good morning while brushing our teeth, why would we have anything to share in a bustling airport during the holidays?


Now this has reminded me of a far more excruciating scenario, also at an airport. In March of my senior year at college, I was heading off to Spring Break in Atlanta! I was departing from the small airport near school, which was bound to be sending off some of my classmates as well. Because it was a day early, and in the morning, it wasn't too busy. Of course, as soon as I got in line for my flight, I noticed that I was standing two people behind a girl who shared not only my major, but also my minor. Forgive me, I think this is going to be pretty convoluted. In order to fully appreciate the awkwardness, there is some necessary back story. But also know that the majority of the awkwardness (/anxiety) was only in my head.

We had been in basically all of the same classes since sophomore year (probably three out of four classes per semester). First semester sophomore year, we even worked on a group presentation together. We talked to each other while we were working on the project, but then when I would see her around campus it seemed like we weren't going to be buds. Which is fine, she had a different "circle of friends" if you will: the rugby team, and I had, well, glee club people. As semesters went by and we continued to be in the same small classes, we still never spoke around campus. Or even in class, because neither one of us participated very much in the discussions. So then I was like, well, that's funny, we should probably be friends because we clearly have similar academic interests, and we are both not into public speaking. Oh! Junior year I went to a party in her room, which was oh so awkward because I am not big into parties, not into small talk, and not into situations where I don't know anyone. This was one of those situations. I went with my friend who had to pick something up, and we were supposed to go somewhere else from the party. She knew everyone, and got sucked into conversations, and I just stood there like a loser. By senior year we were not friends, and it was like, it was too late to strike up a casual conversation, because we knew each other, but we didn't, you know?

So Spring Break comes along, this girl is standing in front of me with her girlfriend, and I realize we are going to be on the same flight. Neither of us acknowledges this fact, and as the airline attendant calls people forward to step onto the plane, I start imagining my seat being directly next to these other girls. What would I do? Surely we would be forced to say something, or at the very least make eye contact with each other. If we were both by ourselves, I think it would have been easier (or maybe more necessary) to say something to each other. Like, hey, that midterm we had this morning was fun. But I didn't want to interrupt them, and they had each other as an excuse to ignore me. As I board the plane, one of the last people, I quickly but carefully scan the plane for their faces, and spot them in the very back. My seat is safely in the middle, the flight is short, and I've just used the airport's restroom, which means I won't have to pass them to get to the restroom. I can relax!

The Museum

Jan de Bray's Banquet of Antony and Cleopatra (1669)
Last week I decided to take a trip to a smallish nearby art museum. The museum recently finished a 21.4 million dollar expansion, so I was excited to see the new digs. I went by alone because it was a spur of the moment outing, and there were few other visitors at the museum because it was a weekday, and close to closing time. The first room I went into was just me and the security officer, and it was making me nervous having him follow me around, with his earpiece and uniform and all.

I started to really think about the rules of the museum, since I knew people were watching. Was photography allowed? Could I talk on my phone? Could I text on my phone? Could I have a water bottle with me? I didn't want to do anything wrong! As I stood there in the middle of the room, I decided I wanted a photo and I was going to take it, so I waited until the guard was on the other side of a wall, and took out my camera. I turned it on and pressed the button. The flash went off. I use my flash only on the rarest of occasions, but in my hurry to take a picture without being seen, I didn't notice that my camera was on "scene" mode, doing its own thing. Anyway, the guard came out from around the corner, and informed me that I was not allowed to use my flash in the museum, and asked if I could delete the photo I had taken. I spluttered something about not intending to use the flash, feeling like a bad museum goer. I stayed in the room a while longer, and noticed that the guard did not take his eyes off me - - he did not go around any more corners or behind any walls.

When I went into the major visiting exhibit of Andy Warhol's work, I did not notice any signage to state that this room, unlike the others, prohibited photography. So I started through the room, snapping pictures of Jackie O. and Mao Zedong. Still the only person in the expansive room, I felt a little like I was being shadowed. I tried to take the photos when the guards' backs were turned, perhaps so I would seem as casual as possible. When I wasn't even taking a photo, a guard noticed the camera hanging from my wrist, and came to tell me I was not permitted to take photos, and could I please delete any photos I had taken of the exhibit. Eek!

I moved quickly around the rest of the room, and around the upper floor of the museum, until I heard the announcement that the museum would be closing in 15 minutes. I went down to the gift shop to find some postcards, when I saw one of the guards locking the door I had come in! So I quickly paid for the cards and walked, quite speedily, to the door as he was turn the locks. I guess I looked a little panicked because the man chuckled and said, "I wasn't gonna lock you in, don't worry." Clearly all (most) of the awkwardness was just in my imagination, but being the only focus for the guards' watches did not help. Either way, I felt a little more at ease as I stepped into my car and drove off into the sunset...

Obviously Antony and Cleopatra are the important characters here, but I was curious about this guy.

Do you drive a Saab?

"I sure do," I replied, thinking this was just another guy who wants my car.
"Did you see the I Spy in the paper?"
"No..."
Apparently, this guy that I work with put an I Spy into the local newspaper, spying me, before he started working at the store. He told me so tonight, only, he didn't tell me what it said. I kind of would like to know, but since it was several months ago, I obviously don't have a copy of that paper around. I guess he might have been waiting for a reply, because he said it was when he was just a customer, and then he got a job there, and he noticed I was still around. And then they ran the ad again, but blown up on the I Spy page, and he was like, thinking it was awkward if I saw it and knew it was a coworker.
He said it was something about a comment he made about the strange sound my register made, and I think I insulted him because I was so flustered, instead of acting cool and nonchalant.
I was like, "Yeah, I don't think I saw it, and plus, a lot of people say stuff about that sound anyway." And he said, "Oh, yeah, I guess I didn't think I was that special anyway." I just meant that if I had read the ad and thought it was directed to me, I wouldn't have known who the guy was, because the only distinguishing detail was that he was talking about the sound, and a million people do. But as I said it, it sounded more like he was just one of the many people who annoy me with their surprise at the banjo-like sound in the computer.
I don't know what the Saab had to do with it, though, or how he even knew that I had a Saab.

Smile! Jesus loves you.

Today, for the second time since I began working as a cashier, I received word from Jesus. Not directly, but from a Christian person who felt it necessary to come in and shop, watch me ring up and bag over $100 worth of groceries for them, pay with their AmEx, and then recommend that I accept Jesus into my life. The first woman I encountered handed me a card with the address of her church on it, and said, "I'd like to invite you to my church," as she was on her way out. Today, the woman stuck out her hand, saying, "This is for you," and gave me a tiny little pamphlet that assumes I am a sinner and tells me how I can turn things around for myself. I would never have the boldness to do this.


How can either of these women presume to know me? I don't feel like I can give an honest response to someone in this situation, because I am at work, and required to show my most friendly and people-pleasing attitude to everyone, regardless of how they act. How can they assume, even, that I am not Christian? Honestly, given the tattoo-faced, dreadlocked, pot smoking, scandalous-clothes-wearing coworkers I am surrounded by, it irks me even more that someone would waste their efforts on me! Both times, I restrained myself from saying, "Thank you," which is usually my immediate response when someone gives me something, and merely smiled and watched them leave. Because I am not thankful. These are the same women who take me for granted as I bag up their pretentious groceries and smile at me pitifully, as if I am doomed to be in this service position for the rest of my life. They have no idea what kind of morals I live my life by. They don't make conversation with me, because it's not worth it, and they don't care if or where I went to college or what else I have done or will do in my life. Unless it is to receive Jesus, and if their handing me a card can save my life, than they are glad to do that much for me. I know it's nothing personal. But shouldn't it be?

Stalker?

Am I the only one who looks at people's facebook photo albums, even if I might not know all of the people in the albums? Two of my coworker friends are like, bffs in real life, and therefore my facebook homepage is often scattered with announcements that the two of them have been tagged in a photo album by a third close friend of theirs. I mean, I guess the photos don't have the same meaning to me as photos of my own friends going around town and visiting fun places... but they are often nice photos. Like, composition wise and all. Especially because they are filled with photos of the great outdoors in full bloom - - spring! It's not just these two girls - I sometimes peruse albums of my friends' to catch up on what they are doing with their lives. But this is leading to a story I found quite funny, and could not really share with people for fear of being thought a stalker!

Yesterday while I was at work, I was talking to one of these girls, "A." A customer came up who "A" needed to help, so I started to help bag the customer's purchases, when another customer got in line. I looked up and started to say, "I can help you over on my line," but as I said it, I recognized the girl as "A's" friend. Recognized her from facebook, and here she was in person! The girl smiled and thanked me for offering, but said she was there to see "A." Before she even started talking, though, I nodded, because I knew she was there to see her friend, but it's not like I'd ever met her or seen her in the store before. To be fair, though, "A" and the other coworker friend talk about this other girl a lot, so recognizing her was just putting the face to a name. Except I'd already done that online. I just thought it was really bizarre, or backwards, to know who a person was, and to feel like I knew a little bit about her, all because I'd seen her online. Creepy.

"Have a good one!"

For some reason, "Have a good one!" rubs me the wrong way, as goodbyes go. Have a good what?! It just sounds so vague, and cheesy, and insincere somehow. The problem, though, is that I hear myself saying this to customers every now and then. I know it's because several of my coworkers say it to everyone. And it rubs off on me. This has happened to me other times, and in different ways - pronouncing things the same way as my college roommate, picking up phrases, making the same faces that I see friends make day after day... I suppose it's just what happens when you spend a significant amount of time with a person, whether you want it to or not.

Only, I also find that I try to fit in with people I am spending a lot of time with. I don't really want to be "fitting in" if it means that I am trying to fit in with what they expect of me. For example: everyone else in the world! (or at least, everyone I work with) drinks. I will remind you that 90% of my coworkers are students at a large university in a fairly rural setting. Anyway, today at work there was a wine and cheese tasting, which brought up the topic of alcohol. A coworker was going on about how she wanted to buy some hard cider after work, and maybe she'd hit up the wine samples and pick up a bottle. Another coworker was telling me about the desire she had had all day to have some alcohol. I just sort of agreed with them, about how nice the hard cider sounded, or how yeah, that's strange, that desire you get to have a little drinky drink. But I don't drink, and I somehow felt like telling them this would make them think I was bizarre and unworthy as a friend. Hmmm.

Another situation which is strange, I think, and can be quite awkward if one is not well practiced, is small talk. I flipflop between hating small talk and wishing people could just make transactions without mentioning the weather, and appreciating the little things people can find in common with one another. But like these other "fitting-in" scenarios, I sometimes find myself conversing with strangers about something that I care very little about - - with great enthusiasm. The customer leaves, with a smile on his or her face, and I think to myself, "Where did all that come from?" Today I almost felt like I was watching myself interact with someone from outside my body, and hearing myself discuss topics I would normally never think of, and I wondered who exactly I was, and what exactly defines me.

Promo

This morning I went into work, and my manager told me that instead of waiting til next week, she wanted to talk to me, "now."
So I went over to her little "office" which is really a desk behind a wall behind customer service behind the check out area of the store, so it's not very enclosed. She started off, "I know we talked about interviewing for the supervisor position, but I talked to my front end staff, and..." I immediately prepared myself to hear her say that they didn't think I was a good fit, or that they had chosen someone from outside the store, who would be a perfect supervisor. But she went on, "and we decided to hire you and your coworker the promotion, and give you each one of the nights to supervise, so that we will have more people to cover shifts if one of the other supervisors needs a vacation or the night off."
Nice!!! So, I get a promotion, and more money, and more responsibility, yay, and don't have to worry about competing with my coworker.
Except that a few hours later, I was standing at my register next to a girl who has worked at the store for almost a year, and who was complaining about needing her review. After which she would receive a small raise. Our boss had promised all week to do the review with her, and today is the end of the week. And she walked out, without even a mention of the review. Which pissed this girl off, understandably.
Thennn my fellow promotee came in on his day off to pick up a pay check and some food, and said to me, "Hey! Did you hear the news?? I even bought a bottle of wine to celebrate!" and then left.
So my register mate turned to me and asked what he was talking about, and I explained that the two of us were being trained to be supervisors. Her face changed from curious to cold and angry. She was like, "Really. That is surprising." I had someone at my register, so I turned to help them, and when I turned around again, she was still looking shocked, and told me just how surprising it was that they'd decided to promote the two of us, when we had both just started there. "Especially him!" she said. "He is so negative about getting things done at closing time! I can't believe they would do that..."
Clearly she was upset that she had never become a supervisor after all the time she has put in there, but what was I supposed to do? The job was posted on the board in the staff room for all to see, and all to apply for. If she didn't look at it, whose fault is that? Certainly not mine. I just stood there in front of her, unsure what I was supposed to say, and unclear whether she realized that she was making me feel bad for something I had been pretty pleased about. So instead of responding, I just... awkwardly walked down to the other side of the room and helped someone else bag up their stuff.