It was the kind of occasion where somewhere, deep down, you know heard other person correctly: but it was just so damned weird that you didn't believe your own ears.
"Sorry, what?" I asked the barista.
"I said, 'do you dance like black women?'" he said, quirking a suggestive eyebrow at me.
My problem is that I'm immune to flirting, which has two main downsides. If a nice guy flirts with me, I only see it as "banter" and banter right back, but not in the right way- causing the nice guy to "take the hint" (that wasn't even there because I was so clueless) and give up, and me to kick myself about five hours later when I realise I was being flirted with. That's the first downside. The second downside is that a not-so-nice guy will take it too far, and I won't realise what's happening until it gets to that point- resulting in time being wasted and me being marginally ticked off.
I walked into the coffee shop this morning and asked for a flat white.
"Alright," he said. "But I gotta warn ya... it's either going to be in this cup, or this one." He indicated to a large cup and an espresso shot cup.
"Uh, aren't flat whites just regular? I'm pretty sure you don't shoot one, either" I grinned, assuming he was just trying to be funny.
"Just kidding, large it is. Wait, what did you order? Oh, a flat white. That'd be regular then."
I smiled and handed the change over, while the barista got to work.
"You look kind of stressed, you having a bad day?"
I blinked. (Here we go, I thought, we have a conversation artist... alright, just be polite, Tash). "No..? I'm quite happy, actually."
"It's just that you look sort of tired."
(Wait a minute, I thought, is he trying to 'neg'* me??)
"Then I've come to the right place," I laughed, brushing it off.
"So, do you work around here?"
"Oh... no. Just passing through the area."
"Don't you have work today?" He asked.
"No, no work for me on Sundays. I'm just on my way to dance class."
"Oh, what kind of dance do you do?"
"K-Pop. Korean pop, that is."
And then he said it.
"So do you dance like black women, then?"
Honestly my brain just switched off when I asked him to repeat what he'd just said. It was clear he didn't have a clue what K-pop was (which is fair enough), but that statement literally just came out of the blue. It was a particularly random statement to make– especially since I'm as pale as milk. The worst thing about it was the appraising up-and-down look he was giving me. I pretended not to notice.
"I'm not sure what you mean. Um, it's more street-style?" I added, helpfully.
"Right, right," he said. He then proceeded to hand me my coffee, holding it out of my reach for a few seconds while asking me to try the coffee there and then on the spot. He tried to make me promise that if he'd made a bad coffee he'd make me another one for free.
I made a wild grab at the hovering coffee cup. "I'm sure it'll be fine, thank you!" I more or less ran off.
The coffee was terrible: I threw it away. I didn't go back.
*Negging: the practice of giving someone a very mild insult while acting friendly, sometimes in the hope that they'll subconsciously want your approval.
Showing posts with label awkward conversations with strangers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label awkward conversations with strangers. Show all posts
Sunday, 15 March 2015
Sunday, 7 December 2014
I don't Like Sarcastic People
"It's food," said the guy (a friend of a friend), seeing me dither at the snacks table. I had already eaten before getting to the party, not knowing that there would be food, so I didn't really need anything- I just wanted to be a gracious guest and accept the host's generosity.
"Awesome, I like food," I said a little foolishly, not knowing what to say in reply to that, but feeling like I should say something under his mildly inquisitive gaze. I put a small handful of chips onto my paper plate and moved away to make room for other party-goers.
"Well that looks filling," said the guy, quirking an eyebrow at my meagre portion.
"Haha," I said weakly, and joined the others.
I love sarcasm. Used at the right times it's hilarious, clever and makes people bond.
However, I do not like sarcastic people. Not people that use sarcasm (or I'd be in trouble with myself)- just people that seem to live in a natural state of constant sarcasm. It's like they live to make try to make others feel uncomfortable or stupid.
One of the things that makes me not get on with sarcastic people is that I'm a very literal person. Puns are often wasted on me- and even though as a writer I can make (apparently good) ones up, I don't really find them laugh-out-loud funny. My friends love teasing me because I apparently become indignant really easily, even though I know they're only teasing. It's not as if I have a thin skin; it's just that it takes me one or two beats longer to pick up on social cues than other people.
"Don't worry," my friend said, "he's always really sarcastic." This was after first being introduced to him as her friend from dance- he asked me very seriously what time I was on, and I looked at my watch (I told you I'm really literal).
It made me think of how I have (had?) this old friend who had a razor-sharp tongue. I used to admire her for how forthright she was and how acidic her humour was- but after a few too many years of her using me as a whetstone every now and again, I decided that she wasn't just naturally talented in the art of sarcasm- she was just a bit of an arsehole.
So with this new revelation, perhaps I'll become more sensitive to the way people might interpret the things I'm saying. I believe that when I'm being sarcastic, I'm being so obvious about it that there is no question that I'm joking about something- but maybe there are times I'm not obvious enough and end up hurting someone's feelings. Perhaps we should all use sarcasm a bit less, especially as a way to cover up our own insecurities. Perhaps we should all be more open with each other, so the world will become a better place.
As if.
"Awesome, I like food," I said a little foolishly, not knowing what to say in reply to that, but feeling like I should say something under his mildly inquisitive gaze. I put a small handful of chips onto my paper plate and moved away to make room for other party-goers.
"Well that looks filling," said the guy, quirking an eyebrow at my meagre portion.
"Haha," I said weakly, and joined the others.
I love sarcasm. Used at the right times it's hilarious, clever and makes people bond.
However, I do not like sarcastic people. Not people that use sarcasm (or I'd be in trouble with myself)- just people that seem to live in a natural state of constant sarcasm. It's like they live to make try to make others feel uncomfortable or stupid.
One of the things that makes me not get on with sarcastic people is that I'm a very literal person. Puns are often wasted on me- and even though as a writer I can make (apparently good) ones up, I don't really find them laugh-out-loud funny. My friends love teasing me because I apparently become indignant really easily, even though I know they're only teasing. It's not as if I have a thin skin; it's just that it takes me one or two beats longer to pick up on social cues than other people.
"Don't worry," my friend said, "he's always really sarcastic." This was after first being introduced to him as her friend from dance- he asked me very seriously what time I was on, and I looked at my watch (I told you I'm really literal).
It made me think of how I have (had?) this old friend who had a razor-sharp tongue. I used to admire her for how forthright she was and how acidic her humour was- but after a few too many years of her using me as a whetstone every now and again, I decided that she wasn't just naturally talented in the art of sarcasm- she was just a bit of an arsehole.
So with this new revelation, perhaps I'll become more sensitive to the way people might interpret the things I'm saying. I believe that when I'm being sarcastic, I'm being so obvious about it that there is no question that I'm joking about something- but maybe there are times I'm not obvious enough and end up hurting someone's feelings. Perhaps we should all use sarcasm a bit less, especially as a way to cover up our own insecurities. Perhaps we should all be more open with each other, so the world will become a better place.
As if.
Sunday, 8 June 2014
Quasi-Multilingual Adventures
My status update from Facebook, 31st May 2014 (last week):
Brussels Chinatown = speaking French AND Mandarin today. 'Bonjour, 早上好!' Chinglish. Franglais. Franglese. Ow my brain.
It's awesome to know other languages, even if only a little. I can't understand three types of people: people who don't like animals, people who don't like music and people who don't believe in learning a little about another country's language before visiting.
You can't learn a language fluently just like that, but you'd be surprised at how just learning a few words and phrases can do, and how that in turn makes you familiar with the structure of another language, making you instantly feel a little less like an alien on someone else's planet.
Last week, I went on the trip to Brussels I won from the Godiva Chocolate Challenge (you can read all about the trip and all the lovely things I ate on my blog Tashcakes!) and I got to exercise some of my language skills. I was nervously looking forward to dusting off my rusty French, having done well at it at school up to GCSE level, after which I dropped it to take sciences instead (a regretful decision in hindsight, but you can't go back in time). Even so, although all I could only remember basic conversational French, I felt secure in the knowledge that I wouldn't have to know how to converse with someone about something like politics or global warming.
As a result, I was able to visit restaurants that the locals like, and experience more warmth and smiles from strangers (after all, people do in general appreciate if you try to speak their language even a little). In fact, I ended up barely speaking English at all to anyone aside from my non French-speaking mum (my travel companion for the trip) and occasionally the hotel staff.
What I wasn't expecting was getting the opportunity to put the Mandarin Chinese I've been learning into practise.
I've been taking evening Mandarin language classes once a week for nearly a year now, having decided that it's high time I learn how to converse in the common language of one half of my heritage. It's been going well- I impressed my Chinese family when I went to Malaysia earlier on this year (okay, more like entertained, but at least I was understandable when I spoke), and my fellow classmates often tease me for being the 'teacher's pet'. However I've only been able to practise in 'safe' environments- up until last week.
We ended up stumbling into Brussels' unofficial Chinatown on the second day of the trip, and to my delight the common language of the community was Mandarin. London's Chinatown seems to have more Cantonese speakers, my Chinese friends are all Cantonese speakers and my Chinese family primarily speak Hakka and only a little Mandarin, so I don't often get to practise with others outside of the classroom.
So, I went to a Chinese supermarket and spoke a little to the cashier in Mandarin, who to my relief understood me through my surely glaring Western accent. Best of all, mum and I decided to test our Mandarin skills at a little Chinese restaurant, where they literally only spoke Mandarin and a bit of French (at one point I asked our waiter- in Mandarin of course- if he spoke any English. He said no, and looked a little panicked, but relaxed when we continued in Mandarin). Both my mum's and my own Mandarin skills are a bit basic, but between us we were able to order, ask if they had Chinese tea, ask for extra utensils to share one dish and handle the bill.
It's a unique, amazing feeling to be able to speak to someone in a language other than the one you grew up with, and an even more amazing feeling to do so in another country. To many English people and Americans believe that they don't have to try learning another language before going on holiday because 'they'll probably all speak English there anyway'. I've even known some people who believe that everyone should know English when you go to another country. I believe this is just arrogance and laziness. Maybe I only believe this because I'm a linguaphile, and I find the variety of languages on this planet beautiful and interesting. Even so, people often forget that English itself is a patchwork mishmash of other languages that has been developed over a very, very long time.
Besides: when you go to a friend's house, you respect the fact that they have a different way of doing things, don't you?
Brussels Chinatown = speaking French AND Mandarin today. 'Bonjour, 早上好!' Chinglish. Franglais. Franglese. Ow my brain.
It's awesome to know other languages, even if only a little. I can't understand three types of people: people who don't like animals, people who don't like music and people who don't believe in learning a little about another country's language before visiting.
You can't learn a language fluently just like that, but you'd be surprised at how just learning a few words and phrases can do, and how that in turn makes you familiar with the structure of another language, making you instantly feel a little less like an alien on someone else's planet.
Last week, I went on the trip to Brussels I won from the Godiva Chocolate Challenge (you can read all about the trip and all the lovely things I ate on my blog Tashcakes!) and I got to exercise some of my language skills. I was nervously looking forward to dusting off my rusty French, having done well at it at school up to GCSE level, after which I dropped it to take sciences instead (a regretful decision in hindsight, but you can't go back in time). Even so, although all I could only remember basic conversational French, I felt secure in the knowledge that I wouldn't have to know how to converse with someone about something like politics or global warming.
As a result, I was able to visit restaurants that the locals like, and experience more warmth and smiles from strangers (after all, people do in general appreciate if you try to speak their language even a little). In fact, I ended up barely speaking English at all to anyone aside from my non French-speaking mum (my travel companion for the trip) and occasionally the hotel staff.
What I wasn't expecting was getting the opportunity to put the Mandarin Chinese I've been learning into practise.
I've been taking evening Mandarin language classes once a week for nearly a year now, having decided that it's high time I learn how to converse in the common language of one half of my heritage. It's been going well- I impressed my Chinese family when I went to Malaysia earlier on this year (okay, more like entertained, but at least I was understandable when I spoke), and my fellow classmates often tease me for being the 'teacher's pet'. However I've only been able to practise in 'safe' environments- up until last week.
We ended up stumbling into Brussels' unofficial Chinatown on the second day of the trip, and to my delight the common language of the community was Mandarin. London's Chinatown seems to have more Cantonese speakers, my Chinese friends are all Cantonese speakers and my Chinese family primarily speak Hakka and only a little Mandarin, so I don't often get to practise with others outside of the classroom.
So, I went to a Chinese supermarket and spoke a little to the cashier in Mandarin, who to my relief understood me through my surely glaring Western accent. Best of all, mum and I decided to test our Mandarin skills at a little Chinese restaurant, where they literally only spoke Mandarin and a bit of French (at one point I asked our waiter- in Mandarin of course- if he spoke any English. He said no, and looked a little panicked, but relaxed when we continued in Mandarin). Both my mum's and my own Mandarin skills are a bit basic, but between us we were able to order, ask if they had Chinese tea, ask for extra utensils to share one dish and handle the bill.
It's a unique, amazing feeling to be able to speak to someone in a language other than the one you grew up with, and an even more amazing feeling to do so in another country. To many English people and Americans believe that they don't have to try learning another language before going on holiday because 'they'll probably all speak English there anyway'. I've even known some people who believe that everyone should know English when you go to another country. I believe this is just arrogance and laziness. Maybe I only believe this because I'm a linguaphile, and I find the variety of languages on this planet beautiful and interesting. Even so, people often forget that English itself is a patchwork mishmash of other languages that has been developed over a very, very long time.
Besides: when you go to a friend's house, you respect the fact that they have a different way of doing things, don't you?
Wednesday, 7 May 2014
Not Afraid of Children
Well, maybe a little bit. But not enough to run away from one.
There I was in Centre Point, one of Kota Kinabalu's most popular shopping centres, eagerly clutching a syrupy iced drink. I heard a happy little sound next to me, and looked down to see a small child beaming up at me: he must have been about two years old, judging by the confident mixture of Bahasa Malaysia and toddler-babble he was burbling.
Smiling absent mindedly, I made to jab my straw through the plastic film that sealed the cup. The next few things happened all at once.
The moment the straw hit the film the little boy made towards me at top speed. A brightly coloured sugary fountain spurted out from the pierced film of my drinking cup, and scooted backwards to avoid getting syrup on someone else's child in a mosquito-filled land. As I scooted back the child chased after me, and I ran backwards even faster trying to staunch the flow of palm sugar and coconut milk. I heard the kid's family laughing in the background as I ran backwards, myself covered in syrup, as the child gleefully chased after me with outstretched hands.
Eventually the father came and scooped up the giggling child, and the family started off. Feeling the need to explain myself, I called after them in English:
"I didn't want to get him all dirty!"
All of a sudden, the family fell silent and stared at me icily, smiles all gone. They turned around in silence, the little boy still reaching out towards me from over his dad's shoulder.
What.
At first I thought they didn't understand me and were a bit wary of me as a foreigner, but I realised shortly afterwards it's sort of worse than that: they were treating me as a harmless (hapless) passer-by at first because I sort of look like I could come from Malaysia, in the right environment (especially around my family). I think I shocked them when I instinctively spoke English, 'revealing' my true origins. Ah well. At least the little nipper didn't seem to mind. Even if I did nearly accidentally turn him into mosquito bait.
There I was in Centre Point, one of Kota Kinabalu's most popular shopping centres, eagerly clutching a syrupy iced drink. I heard a happy little sound next to me, and looked down to see a small child beaming up at me: he must have been about two years old, judging by the confident mixture of Bahasa Malaysia and toddler-babble he was burbling.
Smiling absent mindedly, I made to jab my straw through the plastic film that sealed the cup. The next few things happened all at once.
The moment the straw hit the film the little boy made towards me at top speed. A brightly coloured sugary fountain spurted out from the pierced film of my drinking cup, and scooted backwards to avoid getting syrup on someone else's child in a mosquito-filled land. As I scooted back the child chased after me, and I ran backwards even faster trying to staunch the flow of palm sugar and coconut milk. I heard the kid's family laughing in the background as I ran backwards, myself covered in syrup, as the child gleefully chased after me with outstretched hands.
Eventually the father came and scooped up the giggling child, and the family started off. Feeling the need to explain myself, I called after them in English:
"I didn't want to get him all dirty!"
All of a sudden, the family fell silent and stared at me icily, smiles all gone. They turned around in silence, the little boy still reaching out towards me from over his dad's shoulder.
What.
At first I thought they didn't understand me and were a bit wary of me as a foreigner, but I realised shortly afterwards it's sort of worse than that: they were treating me as a harmless (hapless) passer-by at first because I sort of look like I could come from Malaysia, in the right environment (especially around my family). I think I shocked them when I instinctively spoke English, 'revealing' my true origins. Ah well. At least the little nipper didn't seem to mind. Even if I did nearly accidentally turn him into mosquito bait.
Thursday, 1 May 2014
Humans are Humans Wherever you Go
"Would you like a bread roll miss?"
"No, thank you." I smiled politely at the air steward proffering me the bread with a pair of tongs.
"It's nice and warm fresh from the oven." He jabbed the roll at me.
"Er... no, thanks, I'm good." My smile faultered.
"Here." He leaned over.
"No really, I'm-"
The air steward scowled and dumped the rejected bread roll on my tray and stalked onward with the meal trolley.
That was during the journey back from Kota Kinabalu to England. I suppose it was only fitting my trip ended with an awkward encounter.
"No, thank you." I smiled politely at the air steward proffering me the bread with a pair of tongs.
"It's nice and warm fresh from the oven." He jabbed the roll at me.
"Er... no, thanks, I'm good." My smile faultered.
"Here." He leaned over.
"No really, I'm-"
The air steward scowled and dumped the rejected bread roll on my tray and stalked onward with the meal trolley.
That was during the journey back from Kota Kinabalu to England. I suppose it was only fitting my trip ended with an awkward encounter.
Sunday, 10 November 2013
Actually, I Rather Like People After All
Yesterday evening I met up with some of my fellow ex-contestants from the karaoke contest I took part in, just for a fun Japanese (and English, in my case) karaoke session together. I had great fun, and in the process got to know some new people a little better. I think my favourite moment was when I was chatting to the eldest member of the group on the way to the bar afterwards- a small, not-old-yet Japanese lady with a mischievous smile- and laughing about the sex shops we were walking past in Soho. She even quite knowingly asked me if I knew one particular shop in London aimed at ladies (to which I was just a tiny bit embarrassed and rather a lot more impressed!) She had up and left Japan at a young age, taking no friends or family with her, to start fresh in London: in fact a few others in the group had done similar, one even having lived in four different countries so far.
Recently I've been making an effort to go out and meet new people, and in the recent months I have met some awesome people and made some new friends along the way. It's occasions like this where I re-think the thing I have been telling myself pretty much all my life, which is:
'I hate people.'
Well? what does that actually mean? When I dissect it, it isn't a very nice way to go about life. I like lots of people- love them to bits, in fact. So when I used to say 'I hate people', I was directing this at the general public. In general.
But just who are the general public?
Potential friends. Potential enemies. Potential awkward but friendly chats in the queue or dirty looks after bumping into one another. A huge mix of human beings that are capable of doing the most wonderful and the most terrible things you can imagine, and every one as complex as the other.
There is a lot of cruelty in the world that I can't understand and that makes me sick, sad and angry. These things deserve hate, yes- but I believe that I've realised that it's not right to go about life hating the general public as a default. I'll try to be more open.
(Having said that, I hope I never have to work as a waitress or in customer services ever again.)
Recently I've been making an effort to go out and meet new people, and in the recent months I have met some awesome people and made some new friends along the way. It's occasions like this where I re-think the thing I have been telling myself pretty much all my life, which is:
'I hate people.'
Well? what does that actually mean? When I dissect it, it isn't a very nice way to go about life. I like lots of people- love them to bits, in fact. So when I used to say 'I hate people', I was directing this at the general public. In general.
But just who are the general public?
Potential friends. Potential enemies. Potential awkward but friendly chats in the queue or dirty looks after bumping into one another. A huge mix of human beings that are capable of doing the most wonderful and the most terrible things you can imagine, and every one as complex as the other.
There is a lot of cruelty in the world that I can't understand and that makes me sick, sad and angry. These things deserve hate, yes- but I believe that I've realised that it's not right to go about life hating the general public as a default. I'll try to be more open.
(Having said that, I hope I never have to work as a waitress or in customer services ever again.)
Sunday, 8 September 2013
The Tsundere Drawback
'Tsundere (ツンデレ, pronounced [tsɯndeɽe]) is a Japanese
character development process that describes a person who is initially
cold and even hostile towards another person before gradually showing
his or her warm side over time. The word is derived from the terms tsun
tsun (ツンツン), meaning to turn away in disgust, and dere dere (デレデレ) meaning to become 'lovey dovey'.' - Wikipedia
Not necessarily in a romantic way, and not necessarily gradually warming up over time- it can come out in dribs and drabs, almost like a very mild and very annoying but possibly endearing personality disorder that only manifests itself around specific people, or a specific person.
You probably know a tsundere character, even if you don't watch anime. Helga from the cartoon Hey Arnold!, who acts downright abusive and cantankerous towards her secret crush; Sherlock Homes from the TV series Sherlock who needles his long-suffering friend John with smug superior sarcasm; even Grumpy from Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, who's generally bad tempered about everything but has plenty of 'aww, so you do care!' moments.
My name is Tash, and I'm tsundere.
So is it as cute and funny in real life as it is in popular culture?
No.
Real life doesn't happen like that. Being tsundere is in fact very, very inconvenient, and in more than one way.
There's the first, obvious way: people (okay, guys in particular) that I take a liking to make my brain go weird. I go from being easy to talk to, fun, friendly and intelligent to not being able to make eye contact, aloof, even prickly. At best I'll be giving the silent treatment- not because I'm bored of someone, but because my brain inexplicably draws a complete blank- and at worst I'll come off as polite but frosty. Again, not because I want to be, but because my whole system goes into default defence mode.
It takes a long time for me to properly warm up to guys, even just as friends. I'm naturally guarded. Hell, it took me a whole year to fall for my now-ex (who was a close friend for a long time before we started a relationship, and who subsequently got bored of me after three years of being in a relationship). But once I eventually warm up, I'm the most loyal and caring person ever. See? Tsundere. Of course, however, this doesn't go down very well as a first impression.
Which leads me to the second downside. Making an effort to be warm from the outset in social situations that make me uncomfortable actually makes me come across as unnatural or just plain weird. Here was my internal monologue today (I was in a queue in one of my favourite geeky shops, and there was a guy with a pretty awesome Nintendo bag in the queue next to me):
'Wow, that's a cool bag. Maybe I should compliment him on it? Uh-oh, he spotted me looking, abort, abort! No, I should make eye contact. Don't forget to smile! Yay, he smiled back! You should look away now. I said look away! TOO MUCH EYE CONTACT!! Great, now he looks weirded out and is looking in the other direction. Way to go, dumbass.'
So training myself to be warm to everyone equally isn't going so well. Which brings me to the third and final downside.
Being friendly to guys and male friends who I'm not romantically interested in and them getting the wrong idea.
Before you cry 'bitch!' let me explain: I don't flirt, I don't tease, I just smile, listen, chat- you know, all of the normal friendly things- because I don't feel like I'm in an awkward situation. Unfortunately, it seems like merely being kind is a sort of green light to guys. I can count four guys in the past singular year who have taken my natural non-tsundere nature as a 'green light'- three of which I only met once! One is a little more unfortunate because he has been a friend for a few years and it's horrible to have to hurt his feelings, but what all four have (or had) in common is that fact that they don't seem to take 'no' for an answer.
'I don't see you in that way' seems to morph in their minds into 'I don't see you in that way yet.'
'I'm not interested in a relationship' becomes 'I'm not interested unless you change yourself.'
'You're like my brother' becomes 'If you show me a different side of you maybe I'll feel differently.'
No, no and no. And yes, as ball-crushingly soulless as it might seem, I have tried the 'brother' line in sheer desperation.
Tell them to their faces in cold, callous terms (or in some cases again)? Well the problem is, none of them have actually told me in plain terms to my face what their agenda is, and have therefore not given me the opportunity of doing so without making a fool of myself and them denying everything (despite two mutual friends clue-ing me up on two separate situations, which reassures me that it's not all in my head). Instead they (well, three out of four now that one seems to have finally given up) text endlessly, or message endlessly on social media.
Of course this can only end with hurt feelings. I've been on the other end myself, so I truly empathise (although I was much better at the whole giving up thing...) My empathy and sympathy won't help me or these guys- who really don't deserve this- though.
What do you mean, 'stop being so picky?' Isn't it even worse to humour someone when your heart's just not in it? Life isn't about taking anything and everything you can get at the expense of others- at least, it isn't to me.
So what should I do? Set my tsundere side as a default and freeze out everyone without discrimination at first? Stop being nice to my male friends and become a total biatch towards them (except for the friends who are already spoken for- funnily enough and thankfully I don't have this problem with them)? Try to be equally warm and friendly to everyone?
Probably the latter, I suppose. Easier said then done though: you saw the awkward-salad that was my non-encounter in the shop today.
I'll try to be more open with everyone, then. But only because I want to!! Got it? [/tsundere]
Not necessarily in a romantic way, and not necessarily gradually warming up over time- it can come out in dribs and drabs, almost like a very mild and very annoying but possibly endearing personality disorder that only manifests itself around specific people, or a specific person.
You probably know a tsundere character, even if you don't watch anime. Helga from the cartoon Hey Arnold!, who acts downright abusive and cantankerous towards her secret crush; Sherlock Homes from the TV series Sherlock who needles his long-suffering friend John with smug superior sarcasm; even Grumpy from Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, who's generally bad tempered about everything but has plenty of 'aww, so you do care!' moments.
My name is Tash, and I'm tsundere.
So is it as cute and funny in real life as it is in popular culture?
No.
Real life doesn't happen like that. Being tsundere is in fact very, very inconvenient, and in more than one way.
There's the first, obvious way: people (okay, guys in particular) that I take a liking to make my brain go weird. I go from being easy to talk to, fun, friendly and intelligent to not being able to make eye contact, aloof, even prickly. At best I'll be giving the silent treatment- not because I'm bored of someone, but because my brain inexplicably draws a complete blank- and at worst I'll come off as polite but frosty. Again, not because I want to be, but because my whole system goes into default defence mode.
It takes a long time for me to properly warm up to guys, even just as friends. I'm naturally guarded. Hell, it took me a whole year to fall for my now-ex (who was a close friend for a long time before we started a relationship, and who subsequently got bored of me after three years of being in a relationship). But once I eventually warm up, I'm the most loyal and caring person ever. See? Tsundere. Of course, however, this doesn't go down very well as a first impression.
Which leads me to the second downside. Making an effort to be warm from the outset in social situations that make me uncomfortable actually makes me come across as unnatural or just plain weird. Here was my internal monologue today (I was in a queue in one of my favourite geeky shops, and there was a guy with a pretty awesome Nintendo bag in the queue next to me):
'Wow, that's a cool bag. Maybe I should compliment him on it? Uh-oh, he spotted me looking, abort, abort! No, I should make eye contact. Don't forget to smile! Yay, he smiled back! You should look away now. I said look away! TOO MUCH EYE CONTACT!! Great, now he looks weirded out and is looking in the other direction. Way to go, dumbass.'
So training myself to be warm to everyone equally isn't going so well. Which brings me to the third and final downside.
Being friendly to guys and male friends who I'm not romantically interested in and them getting the wrong idea.
Before you cry 'bitch!' let me explain: I don't flirt, I don't tease, I just smile, listen, chat- you know, all of the normal friendly things- because I don't feel like I'm in an awkward situation. Unfortunately, it seems like merely being kind is a sort of green light to guys. I can count four guys in the past singular year who have taken my natural non-tsundere nature as a 'green light'- three of which I only met once! One is a little more unfortunate because he has been a friend for a few years and it's horrible to have to hurt his feelings, but what all four have (or had) in common is that fact that they don't seem to take 'no' for an answer.
'I don't see you in that way' seems to morph in their minds into 'I don't see you in that way yet.'
'I'm not interested in a relationship' becomes 'I'm not interested unless you change yourself.'
'You're like my brother' becomes 'If you show me a different side of you maybe I'll feel differently.'
No, no and no. And yes, as ball-crushingly soulless as it might seem, I have tried the 'brother' line in sheer desperation.
Tell them to their faces in cold, callous terms (or in some cases again)? Well the problem is, none of them have actually told me in plain terms to my face what their agenda is, and have therefore not given me the opportunity of doing so without making a fool of myself and them denying everything (despite two mutual friends clue-ing me up on two separate situations, which reassures me that it's not all in my head). Instead they (well, three out of four now that one seems to have finally given up) text endlessly, or message endlessly on social media.
Of course this can only end with hurt feelings. I've been on the other end myself, so I truly empathise (although I was much better at the whole giving up thing...) My empathy and sympathy won't help me or these guys- who really don't deserve this- though.
What do you mean, 'stop being so picky?' Isn't it even worse to humour someone when your heart's just not in it? Life isn't about taking anything and everything you can get at the expense of others- at least, it isn't to me.
So what should I do? Set my tsundere side as a default and freeze out everyone without discrimination at first? Stop being nice to my male friends and become a total biatch towards them (except for the friends who are already spoken for- funnily enough and thankfully I don't have this problem with them)? Try to be equally warm and friendly to everyone?
Probably the latter, I suppose. Easier said then done though: you saw the awkward-salad that was my non-encounter in the shop today.
I'll try to be more open with everyone, then. But only because I want to!! Got it? [/tsundere]
Sunday, 1 September 2013
Worst Attempted Pick-Up Ever
After Siu Yen's birthday meal and the live comedy show after, we all headed down to a bar for cocktails. As we descended the stairs into the bar, some random guy caught up with me and walks beside me on the stairs.
"They say walking down the stairs by someone's side is bad luck, did you know?" He shouted over the din of the music and crowd.
"Huh?" I turned around as I walked on, at first not entirely sure that this question was directed at me.
"Yeah," he said seriously, "But I reckon tonight it's pretty lucky for me!"
I blinked, and laughed while quirking a single eyebrow.
"Really?" I couldn't hide the ironic disbelief in my voice. The poor guy fell back as my group carried onwards.
B+ for effort.
"They say walking down the stairs by someone's side is bad luck, did you know?" He shouted over the din of the music and crowd.
"Huh?" I turned around as I walked on, at first not entirely sure that this question was directed at me.
"Yeah," he said seriously, "But I reckon tonight it's pretty lucky for me!"
I blinked, and laughed while quirking a single eyebrow.
"Really?" I couldn't hide the ironic disbelief in my voice. The poor guy fell back as my group carried onwards.
B+ for effort.
Monday, 12 August 2013
Self-Marketing: A Case Study with a Surprise
Everyone has different facets of their personality. At least, people are rarely two-dimensional, and there are lots of things that make you, well, you. However, I believe everyone has a facet that they put out there as their main USP for the world to judge them with. It's hard for me to determine what my own main USP is, but my general geekiness is definitely one that I don't bother to suppress.
This weekend I managed to bust out two almost contrasting sides of myself, one day after another: the Geeky Dorky Girl (GDG), and the slightly rarer Sophisticated City Gal (SCG) . Where GDG has a shy, slightly bashful smile, is hesitant to meet your eyes and will suddenly become comically animated when you talk to her about sci-fi, Super Mario or fantasy, SCG is confident and collected with an easy laugh.
On Friday night I was SCG, and Saturday and Sunday I was GDG.
My friend Siu Yen came to visit me in London over the weekend, and we began by going to a cocktail bar on the Friday night. We both styled ourselves with nice-but-not-too-OTT dresses, tamed and styled our hair to enhance our natural looks (sleek and straight for Siu Yen, boho waves for me), and made our faces up with careful precision (again to suit our natural looks, because neither of us likes the heavy makeup look). Still, we were pretty polished, and looking at our best for the evening.
Siu Yen and I are both slightly dorky and cute but very intelligent, and we share a very similar sense of humour and way of thinking- but Siu Yen is a little more used to dressing up and partying in the more traditional sense than I am- don't get me wrong, I love doing girly stuff, but my time is more often taken up by nerdy things like conventions and visiting places. She seemed pleasantly surprised to see me all dolled up when we met for cocktails with another friend (that's how often I go the extra mile to look nice), and off we went to hit the bar.
The first person to try to strike up a conversation with me at the bar was a man old enough to be my father. I politely chatted with him without encouraging further questions until he moved on to rejoin his group of friends, and I turned to Siu Yen and lamented at how I only ever seem to attract much older guys (it certainly seems to be true, sometimes). However to my personal quiet relief, another guy started chatting to me, and he was more my age. Thank goodness it's not only older men that like the look of me, after all! I mean I know I'm awesome on the inside, but let's face it: in this unjust world, first impressions are everything. In any case, I wasn't interested, and after a few good-natured digs at each other's choices of drinks I re-grouped with my friends.
I couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if I was interested in the second guy, and I thought of how he'd probably run a mile as soon as he found out that beneath my charming, elegant exterior was hiding a slightly awkward supernerd who only properly styles her hair once every few months. I certainly found that the young professional guys during my social experiment pretty much eliminated me as a serious option the more they discovered how dorky I really am. On the other scale of things, when I'm 'off-duty' and just my normal slightly dorky self, there's still a professional,strong-willed and sharp person under that, too.
In any case, it gave me a bit of an always much-needed confidence boost. I often think that older men chat me up because they think I might be easier because I'm not as stunning as other girls in the room (I'm alright-looking, but I'm no classic Ten). It's nice once in a while when I get noticed by someone more my age in any case, even if on a selfish level because I'm not interested back. Anyway, at the end of the evening I took my SCG face off, brushed my immaculate SCG curls back into my hair's usual slightly fluffy shock of waves, and by the next day I'd morphed into GDG- my fallback facet.
I own quite a few nerdy T-shirts. A Big Bang Theory-themed one with the word 'BAZINGA' emblazoned on the front in large writing, a crossover one with some minions from Despicable Me carrying off the TARDIS, more than one My Neighbour Totoro T-shirt, one with the Thundercats logo, a pretty cool 3D effect from from Cyberdog... but my current favourite one is a picture of all the main characters of Marvel's The Avengers as cartoon cats. It's freaking adorable. This is what I wore on Saturday, with some cropped linen trousers and sandals. Not exactly 'hot girl material', but it was very me.
Ironically, I told Siu Yen about my theory about me getting more attention when I'm dressed up, but whenever I'm more like myself, no-one so much as glances in my direction. I noted how although I hate being the centre of attention and quite like vanishing into the crowd, I do feel kind of sad that the exterior of the 'real me' doesn't seem worth a bother. Does that mean that the interior that goes with it isn't worth a bother, too? That is of course ridiculous- but the problem of course is that you have to get to know me over time to realise there's more to me than that. It's the same for everybody- but alas, some people get a visual head start in life.
The irony of that conversation happened when Siu Yen and I went shopping, and I was paying for my stuff at the checkout of a semi-stylish high street store. The guy serving me at the counter glanced at my Avenger Cats T-shirt and quirked an eyebrow at me. I felt a little self-conscious, but stared back politely but defiantly. I assessed him quickly: gelled spiky hair, effortless smart-casual style, a slightly haughty stance- he probably didn't have a nerdy bone in his body.
"Nice shirt," he said, scanning the surprisingly) fashionable top I'd just bought.
"Thanks," I said, thinking he was being slightly sarcastic but deciding to play along as if he were being sincere. "Cats- awesome, Avengers- epic, can't go wrong!"
The guy grinned, and I suddenly felt slightly defensive.
"Sorry," I said, instantly mad at myself for apologising like I always do, "Super-geek."
He looked a little surprised, and then he said something that blew me away.
"Me, too. Marvel, games, Warcraft, love it."
Now I was the one judging a book by its cover. Great. Wait, Warcraft?
"World of Warcraft? I lost like, a good two years of my life to that game! I quit just before the Cataclysm expansion because I got bored of how long it took to get from level 75 to 80."
"Well I've lost eight years and counting, but I really got into it during the Wrath of the Litch King."
"That's when I started playing, but I got sick of waiting for the right gear to drop from bosses."
"I guess I got lucky, now I have three level 90 guys."
"Geeze that's dedication."
I was aware of Siu Yen grinning off to the side, a little non-plussed at the WoW talk having never played it. In the end I paid for my stuff, all the while chatting away about the nerdiest stuff ever, and left grinning like a lunatic. Finally, for once someone noticing the real (well, more genuine) me from the start! It felt amazing. Maybe I don't have to be SCG all the time to be taken seriously as a person. I spent the rest of the day in a great mood.
The next day, I came to the station with Siu Yen to see her off, wearing my BAZINGA top. When we were in the coffee shop, the girl behind the counter pointed to my T-shirt and said to me "amazing top, I LOVE that show! Where did you get it from?"
I was in a great mood that day, too.
So even I am guilty of judging people by the way they present themselves, and there are people out there that will notice me when I'm not all dolled up too. In which case, I should learn to look at people in a different way, and remember that there's more to people than what they put out there on the surface for the world to see. I know this. Everyone knows this. It's just hard to remember sometimes when you're wrapped up in your own world of facets.
This weekend I managed to bust out two almost contrasting sides of myself, one day after another: the Geeky Dorky Girl (GDG), and the slightly rarer Sophisticated City Gal (SCG) . Where GDG has a shy, slightly bashful smile, is hesitant to meet your eyes and will suddenly become comically animated when you talk to her about sci-fi, Super Mario or fantasy, SCG is confident and collected with an easy laugh.
On Friday night I was SCG, and Saturday and Sunday I was GDG.
My friend Siu Yen came to visit me in London over the weekend, and we began by going to a cocktail bar on the Friday night. We both styled ourselves with nice-but-not-too-OTT dresses, tamed and styled our hair to enhance our natural looks (sleek and straight for Siu Yen, boho waves for me), and made our faces up with careful precision (again to suit our natural looks, because neither of us likes the heavy makeup look). Still, we were pretty polished, and looking at our best for the evening.
Siu Yen and I are both slightly dorky and cute but very intelligent, and we share a very similar sense of humour and way of thinking- but Siu Yen is a little more used to dressing up and partying in the more traditional sense than I am- don't get me wrong, I love doing girly stuff, but my time is more often taken up by nerdy things like conventions and visiting places. She seemed pleasantly surprised to see me all dolled up when we met for cocktails with another friend (that's how often I go the extra mile to look nice), and off we went to hit the bar.
The first person to try to strike up a conversation with me at the bar was a man old enough to be my father. I politely chatted with him without encouraging further questions until he moved on to rejoin his group of friends, and I turned to Siu Yen and lamented at how I only ever seem to attract much older guys (it certainly seems to be true, sometimes). However to my personal quiet relief, another guy started chatting to me, and he was more my age. Thank goodness it's not only older men that like the look of me, after all! I mean I know I'm awesome on the inside, but let's face it: in this unjust world, first impressions are everything. In any case, I wasn't interested, and after a few good-natured digs at each other's choices of drinks I re-grouped with my friends.
I couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if I was interested in the second guy, and I thought of how he'd probably run a mile as soon as he found out that beneath my charming, elegant exterior was hiding a slightly awkward supernerd who only properly styles her hair once every few months. I certainly found that the young professional guys during my social experiment pretty much eliminated me as a serious option the more they discovered how dorky I really am. On the other scale of things, when I'm 'off-duty' and just my normal slightly dorky self, there's still a professional,strong-willed and sharp person under that, too.
In any case, it gave me a bit of an always much-needed confidence boost. I often think that older men chat me up because they think I might be easier because I'm not as stunning as other girls in the room (I'm alright-looking, but I'm no classic Ten). It's nice once in a while when I get noticed by someone more my age in any case, even if on a selfish level because I'm not interested back. Anyway, at the end of the evening I took my SCG face off, brushed my immaculate SCG curls back into my hair's usual slightly fluffy shock of waves, and by the next day I'd morphed into GDG- my fallback facet.
I own quite a few nerdy T-shirts. A Big Bang Theory-themed one with the word 'BAZINGA' emblazoned on the front in large writing, a crossover one with some minions from Despicable Me carrying off the TARDIS, more than one My Neighbour Totoro T-shirt, one with the Thundercats logo, a pretty cool 3D effect from from Cyberdog... but my current favourite one is a picture of all the main characters of Marvel's The Avengers as cartoon cats. It's freaking adorable. This is what I wore on Saturday, with some cropped linen trousers and sandals. Not exactly 'hot girl material', but it was very me.
Ironically, I told Siu Yen about my theory about me getting more attention when I'm dressed up, but whenever I'm more like myself, no-one so much as glances in my direction. I noted how although I hate being the centre of attention and quite like vanishing into the crowd, I do feel kind of sad that the exterior of the 'real me' doesn't seem worth a bother. Does that mean that the interior that goes with it isn't worth a bother, too? That is of course ridiculous- but the problem of course is that you have to get to know me over time to realise there's more to me than that. It's the same for everybody- but alas, some people get a visual head start in life.
The irony of that conversation happened when Siu Yen and I went shopping, and I was paying for my stuff at the checkout of a semi-stylish high street store. The guy serving me at the counter glanced at my Avenger Cats T-shirt and quirked an eyebrow at me. I felt a little self-conscious, but stared back politely but defiantly. I assessed him quickly: gelled spiky hair, effortless smart-casual style, a slightly haughty stance- he probably didn't have a nerdy bone in his body.
"Nice shirt," he said, scanning the surprisingly) fashionable top I'd just bought.
"Thanks," I said, thinking he was being slightly sarcastic but deciding to play along as if he were being sincere. "Cats- awesome, Avengers- epic, can't go wrong!"
The guy grinned, and I suddenly felt slightly defensive.
"Sorry," I said, instantly mad at myself for apologising like I always do, "Super-geek."
He looked a little surprised, and then he said something that blew me away.
"Me, too. Marvel, games, Warcraft, love it."
Now I was the one judging a book by its cover. Great. Wait, Warcraft?
"World of Warcraft? I lost like, a good two years of my life to that game! I quit just before the Cataclysm expansion because I got bored of how long it took to get from level 75 to 80."
"Well I've lost eight years and counting, but I really got into it during the Wrath of the Litch King."
"That's when I started playing, but I got sick of waiting for the right gear to drop from bosses."
"I guess I got lucky, now I have three level 90 guys."
"Geeze that's dedication."
I was aware of Siu Yen grinning off to the side, a little non-plussed at the WoW talk having never played it. In the end I paid for my stuff, all the while chatting away about the nerdiest stuff ever, and left grinning like a lunatic. Finally, for once someone noticing the real (well, more genuine) me from the start! It felt amazing. Maybe I don't have to be SCG all the time to be taken seriously as a person. I spent the rest of the day in a great mood.
The next day, I came to the station with Siu Yen to see her off, wearing my BAZINGA top. When we were in the coffee shop, the girl behind the counter pointed to my T-shirt and said to me "amazing top, I LOVE that show! Where did you get it from?"
I was in a great mood that day, too.
So even I am guilty of judging people by the way they present themselves, and there are people out there that will notice me when I'm not all dolled up too. In which case, I should learn to look at people in a different way, and remember that there's more to people than what they put out there on the surface for the world to see. I know this. Everyone knows this. It's just hard to remember sometimes when you're wrapped up in your own world of facets.
Saturday, 3 August 2013
Let Your Conscience be your Guide
I've had a pretty rough week. No, let me rephrase that: I've had a pretty productive week. It's just that it's been so productive, I'm shattered beyond belief, and there's still one more day of non-stopness to go. Every day after work I've been going out on errands and the like, and now it's the weekend I've been even busier running around for people (two consecutive birthdays = a lot of baking of Tashcakes). The only evening I had off in my diary to rest this week was Tuesday.
However, this changed on Monday evening. I was in town after work because I had to commute, my car being in the garage for its MOT. I decided to stop by my favourite bubble tea shop on the way home, because I was tired and fed up, and it was only Monday.
There are lots of bubble tea shops to choose from in Chinatown, but the small shop Cuppacha was the first to sell bubble teas in almost as many flavours as you can get in South West Asia- and even though since then a bigger, more internationally popular bubble tea brand with a bazillion flavours and options has set up shop right on the main street of Chinatown, I've remained loyal to Cuppacha. Why?
Because they smile.
They are always so friendly in Cuppacha, and an attitude like that is becoming tough to find in retail and catering. At the other places, you're not really a human being, just a talking, moving body. And even if all customers are just bodies moving in and out of the shop, a smile really makes a difference.
So I went in to get my tea, ordering a fancy one where the topping comes separately. The guy serving me double-checked that I knew the topping was 50p extra, and I confirmed I knew. I paid for my tea, put my change in the tip jar, picked up my bubble tea and left.
A worried little buzzer went off in my brain as I sat on the train home sipping my bubble tea, and I fished the receipt out of my pocket: I hadn't been charged that extra 50p. I'd effectively stolen a topping! What was I going to do?
Normally, I'd feel a tiny bit guilty but forget about it, knowing a small undercharge wouldn't be missed. However in this case I felt terrible. This little tea shop was beginning to struggle to compete against the bigger company in its prime location, and I felt ridiculously loyal to it for a silly old bubble tea shop. However I always go to it- how on earth could I go back and look them in the eye again knowing I'd stolen toppings?
So the next day, I went two hours out of my way after work to go back and give them the extra 50p.
I know I know, I'm mad.
I felt really embarrassed, but the girl that was serving that day gave the cutest, most delighted laugh I have ever heard and like magic I felt better. Of course, I also bought another bubble tea while I was there (see? Being smiley works).
Don't tell me you've never been in a situation where you feel like you've conned someone, willingly or not, and felt bad afterwards. Was I completely pathetic going back? Probably. But at least my conscience is clear.
~Fin~
However, this changed on Monday evening. I was in town after work because I had to commute, my car being in the garage for its MOT. I decided to stop by my favourite bubble tea shop on the way home, because I was tired and fed up, and it was only Monday.
There are lots of bubble tea shops to choose from in Chinatown, but the small shop Cuppacha was the first to sell bubble teas in almost as many flavours as you can get in South West Asia- and even though since then a bigger, more internationally popular bubble tea brand with a bazillion flavours and options has set up shop right on the main street of Chinatown, I've remained loyal to Cuppacha. Why?
Because they smile.
They are always so friendly in Cuppacha, and an attitude like that is becoming tough to find in retail and catering. At the other places, you're not really a human being, just a talking, moving body. And even if all customers are just bodies moving in and out of the shop, a smile really makes a difference.
So I went in to get my tea, ordering a fancy one where the topping comes separately. The guy serving me double-checked that I knew the topping was 50p extra, and I confirmed I knew. I paid for my tea, put my change in the tip jar, picked up my bubble tea and left.
A worried little buzzer went off in my brain as I sat on the train home sipping my bubble tea, and I fished the receipt out of my pocket: I hadn't been charged that extra 50p. I'd effectively stolen a topping! What was I going to do?
Normally, I'd feel a tiny bit guilty but forget about it, knowing a small undercharge wouldn't be missed. However in this case I felt terrible. This little tea shop was beginning to struggle to compete against the bigger company in its prime location, and I felt ridiculously loyal to it for a silly old bubble tea shop. However I always go to it- how on earth could I go back and look them in the eye again knowing I'd stolen toppings?
So the next day, I went two hours out of my way after work to go back and give them the extra 50p.
I know I know, I'm mad.
I felt really embarrassed, but the girl that was serving that day gave the cutest, most delighted laugh I have ever heard and like magic I felt better. Of course, I also bought another bubble tea while I was there (see? Being smiley works).
Don't tell me you've never been in a situation where you feel like you've conned someone, willingly or not, and felt bad afterwards. Was I completely pathetic going back? Probably. But at least my conscience is clear.
~Fin~
Thursday, 4 July 2013
In Which I Conduct a Social Experiment: Part 2
(Or rather the experiment has concluded and now the consequences commence).
So I mentioned that as a result of speed dating I friend-matched two people, and one sent me a message: Daniel-Does-Not-Do-Comicon, the one who seemed like an almost polar opposite to me interests-wise but still seemed fun. Part of his message read:
"You're very different to most people I meet // and I like that."
This made me laugh out loud- I thought it summed my efforts of the evening up pretty well! Part of my reply was:
"I got the impression that I'm very different to most people other people meet on Saturday, haha."
In short, we're meeting up on Sunday morning in town for coffee (no euphemism, literally coffee), which works out quite well because I'm meeting another friend for lunch in the same area after. So if he turns out to be a crazy person (and let's face it, we all know that between me and anyone I'm the most likely to be the crazy person...), I'll be in a very busy area with a friend nearby.
It's kind of a weird situation for me to be in. When I make friends it's purely 'organic' and happens gradually. In this case, it's more like 'Hey, I think we should be friends! Let's meet up at this designated time and place and try to be friends even more!' Of course, put like that, it sounds like an unusual situation for anyone to be in.
I guess the experiment's now on me, then. Let's see how a Socially Awkward Penguin like myself copes out of her comfort zone, shall we?
Haha that's ridiculous, a Socially Awkward Penguin has no comfort zone.
I'm screwed.
So I mentioned that as a result of speed dating I friend-matched two people, and one sent me a message: Daniel-Does-Not-Do-Comicon, the one who seemed like an almost polar opposite to me interests-wise but still seemed fun. Part of his message read:
"You're very different to most people I meet // and I like that."
This made me laugh out loud- I thought it summed my efforts of the evening up pretty well! Part of my reply was:
"I got the impression that I'm very different to most people other people meet on Saturday, haha."
In short, we're meeting up on Sunday morning in town for coffee (no euphemism, literally coffee), which works out quite well because I'm meeting another friend for lunch in the same area after. So if he turns out to be a crazy person (and let's face it, we all know that between me and anyone I'm the most likely to be the crazy person...), I'll be in a very busy area with a friend nearby.
It's kind of a weird situation for me to be in. When I make friends it's purely 'organic' and happens gradually. In this case, it's more like 'Hey, I think we should be friends! Let's meet up at this designated time and place and try to be friends even more!' Of course, put like that, it sounds like an unusual situation for anyone to be in.
I guess the experiment's now on me, then. Let's see how a Socially Awkward Penguin like myself copes out of her comfort zone, shall we?
Haha that's ridiculous, a Socially Awkward Penguin has no comfort zone.
I'm screwed.
Monday, 1 July 2013
In Which I Conduct a Social Experiment
Or more to the point, in which I go speed dating.
You heard me.
A couple of weeks ago two colleagues and I were talking about the merits of being single, and somehow we got onto the topic of how to flirt. None of us could decide on how to define flirting exactly, so as a joke we Googled 'flirting workshop'. We actually found one! Only they cost over £200 for a day course.
Two hundred smackeroos of my hard-earned cash to learn how to flirt? Seriously?
Anyway, one thing led to another and we ended up agreeing it would be jolly good fun if we signed up for speed dating, which happened a couple of nights ago, on Saturday night. In the end neither of my colleagues made it, one having never actually gotten around to booking and the other having to go to a friend's wedding. Thankfully (really, really thankfully) I found a couple of other people to go with instead.
Off we trotted to the bar, making sure we were intentionally ten minutes late to avoid being the first ones there. Of course, we were the first ones there. I was rather amused and more than slightly worried that the doormen (or rather doorladies) began to ask for our IDs, but then told us not to worry and go straight in and downstairs to the event bar when they realised we were there for the speed dating event.
So if we're just here to down booze we need to be ID-ed, but if we're here to meet a bunch of random strangers whilst downing booze at the same time it's a-okay? Huh.
Even though we were the first to the scene, we were very quickly followed by more ladies ("What did I tell you? The girls always arrive first," I heard one say to her friend). Soon enough the place was full: twenty girls, eighteen guys (because two guys hadchickened out failed to turn up). It was a relatively small room, and to my slight discomfort I realised that dates would be sitting side-by-side on sofas rather than face-to-face like an interview. Scratch that, I'm not sure which is worse. Anyway, the rules were that girls stayed where they were and guys rotated, often having to squeeze onto the sofas by sliding past the fixed tables (I was particularly glad I didn't have to move as I'm not known for my natural poise and grace).
The bell rang. Off we went: four minutes per person and *DINGDINGDING*, time to move on to the next.
Speed dating is surprisingly exhausting, even if you're a talkative person. As a writer, I'm quite contented to sit for hours on end and type or scrawl, and as for the quality of my writing- I've been told I could convince anyone to do anything, on paper. Talking... not so much. Some people are blessed with a silver tongue- mine's more like one of those roll-up party horns. As a result, when I talk- especially about the things I'm interested about- I think I sound rather manic.
Combine manic speed-talking with a whole load of wild hand gestures and an increasingly shrill voice as I struggled to compete with the growing din of a large crowd with booming club music in a small room, and you'll get a general feel for how I was coming off.
Combine this with my unbridled geekiness, then, well...
I joked with some other friends that I wasn't worried about meeting weirdos: I'D be the weirdo. I joked that there would be guys going home later that night, going back to their mates and saying "Yeah... there was this one really crazy girl there..." By the time I left, I really felt like I'd completed my own prophecy. The confident guys either humoured me or, in one case, acted physically repelled by me (although the latter wasn't much liked by my friends either because of his slightly arrogant air), and the shy guys were overwhelmed by me.
Without further ado, here were some of the most memorable moments of the evening on my end.
The Good:
One guy asked me what the most exciting thing I'd done in the last couple of years was (I replied I went to Go Ape). This was a nice change from the 'so what do you do?' or 'is this your first time speed dating?' questions I'd been asked. As the minutes went by the subject of me once doing a lot of battle reenactment came up, and I was impressed that he actually asked what century reenactment my group did and what kind of sword I had. I asked him what TV and books he liked, and just as he replied 'Game of Thrones' the bell went *DINGDINGDING* before I had a chance to enthuse. Ah well- such is the nature of speed dating. I scribbled 'Paddy- Game if Thrones' hurriedly as a prompt on my 'score sheet'.
As soon as this other guy sat down, I decided to ask him what the most geeky thing about him was. To my puzzlement and amusement, he stared at me, blinked and suddenly replied "You know what, screw this. I'm liking your blue dress and black cardi thingy combo." I laughed and said thanks, but I still expected him to answer the question. When I asked him what he did, he only replied "All in good time." As our conversation progressed it became very apparent that there were very few geeky bones in this guy's body, and he even asked me "So would you force any unsuspecting boyfriend into wearing a costume to Comicon with you?" (My answer was of course not- one man's cosplay is another man's form of cruel and unusual punishment). The bell went *DINGDINGDING*, and just as he got up he shot back in my direction, "And to answer your earlier question I work in finance." "Oh! I'm sorry" I said, and thankfully he laughed. I scribbled 'Daniel-Does-Not-Do-Comicon' down.
The Bad:
The arrogant guy- as he slid across the sofa, I joked at how they could have picked better seating arrangements for a bunch of strangers meeting each other for the first time, wanting to make the best impression. I wasn't expecting the single raised eyebrow I got, paired with a very chilly, "Actually, I thought I did that rather well." I laughed as if he were joking, but he just continued to stare ever so slightly down his nose at me and repeated, " Wouldn't you say I did that well?" I rolled my eyes and said something like 'fine then'. We ended up talking about food for the rest of the few minutes left (at least food is something I can talk about), with him mentioning one of these fancy places that has no menu and me struggling to remember the name of one of my favourite Malaysian restaurants as he boredly stared at me as I struggled. It was a rather long four minutes. At least my friends all had a similar experience. To be honest, he was acting like actually being there made him sick. You know what the craziest thing is? The friend he came with happened to be Game Of Thrones Paddy.
When one guy asked me if I'd been speed dating before and I said no, he countered with, "You have such a lovely, innocent face for someone who lies so well!" I covered my discomfort by a show of obvious mock-offence.
The Mad:
That'd be me, then. Aside from mentioning I owned my own chain mail, lost two years of my life to World of Warcraft and have been to London Comicon dressed in Stark Trek uniform, I also occasionally asked "What would you rather be: a pineapple or a papaya?" Curiously everyone I asked answered pineapple, and everyone said it was because of their hair. I also asked "Star Wars or Star Trek?" on one occasion.
The Interesting:
One guy's English wasn't particularly polished, and it turned out that he came from a small village in Italy and had moved to London to seek his fortune as an artist (or rather seek a career- few ever make a fortune in art). Not quite believing him I asked him questions like what was his favourite medium, period of style and favourite artists, and to my astonishment he was totally genuine. I didn't put him down as a 'Yes' or a 'Friend', but all the same when I wished him well in the city at the end of the four minutes, I meant it wholeheartedly.
So would I do it again? Maybe. Not in a long while- it was more a novelty and a fun night out for me, and I certainly didn't expect to meet any knights in shining armour. They say speed dating is a numbers game, but I never was that great at probability in maths.
Anyway, there are several major flaws to speed dating, the major one in my opinion being the time limit. Sure it's handy if you get someone you don't get on with, but what about people like Game of Thrones guy? There were a few more like him, like a slightly shy-er guy who I found out when we had just seconds to go that he played jazz piano (interesting to me, being a qualified pianist), and another even shy-er guy who was just beginning to come out of his shell before he had to move on.
The second biggest flaw is more of a personal one: I'm a geek girl. I'm pretty niche. Even worse, by a lot of 'geek guy' standards I'm not 'geeky enough' (sod them, is what I say). Speed dating events in my age range are often for city professionals who are more into sports than sci-fi. So I can't really win. All I can do is do what I do best, and be myself as hard as I possibly can.
One question I really wanted to ask people but never got around to was, "What do you enjoy most about being single?" I could give a whole list of reasons why I love being single- which is probably why I only ticked the 'Friend' box on my score sheet for some of the guys, and no 'Yes'es for dating. Dating and boyfriends can wait- I'm too busy geeking out.
So. After the event you go home, and in the next couple of days enter in your ticks online to see if anyone has matched up with you. Did I get any friend matches afterwards? Well, I've just gotten around to checking and yes, I have two: one is the shy-er guy, and the other, most amusingly, is 'Daniel-Does-Not-Do-Comicon'. 'Game If Thrones Paddy' has yet to input his scores.
I did find 'Daniel-Does-Not-Do-Comicon' quite fun though, and thought we'd probably actually get on rather well despite the culture difference (or else it would have been rather silly for me to tick 'Friend' if I didn't mean it, wouldn't it?). In fact, halfway through writing this I got a pop-up email alert telling me that he's sent me a message. I haven't read it yet- it's way past my bedtime and my brain has already made as much social interaction as it can take for a few days. I'll take a look and maybe reply tomorrow. This could be entertaining...
You heard me.
A couple of weeks ago two colleagues and I were talking about the merits of being single, and somehow we got onto the topic of how to flirt. None of us could decide on how to define flirting exactly, so as a joke we Googled 'flirting workshop'. We actually found one! Only they cost over £200 for a day course.
Two hundred smackeroos of my hard-earned cash to learn how to flirt? Seriously?
Anyway, one thing led to another and we ended up agreeing it would be jolly good fun if we signed up for speed dating, which happened a couple of nights ago, on Saturday night. In the end neither of my colleagues made it, one having never actually gotten around to booking and the other having to go to a friend's wedding. Thankfully (really, really thankfully) I found a couple of other people to go with instead.
Off we trotted to the bar, making sure we were intentionally ten minutes late to avoid being the first ones there. Of course, we were the first ones there. I was rather amused and more than slightly worried that the doormen (or rather doorladies) began to ask for our IDs, but then told us not to worry and go straight in and downstairs to the event bar when they realised we were there for the speed dating event.
So if we're just here to down booze we need to be ID-ed, but if we're here to meet a bunch of random strangers whilst downing booze at the same time it's a-okay? Huh.
Even though we were the first to the scene, we were very quickly followed by more ladies ("What did I tell you? The girls always arrive first," I heard one say to her friend). Soon enough the place was full: twenty girls, eighteen guys (because two guys had
The bell rang. Off we went: four minutes per person and *DINGDINGDING*, time to move on to the next.
Speed dating is surprisingly exhausting, even if you're a talkative person. As a writer, I'm quite contented to sit for hours on end and type or scrawl, and as for the quality of my writing- I've been told I could convince anyone to do anything, on paper. Talking... not so much. Some people are blessed with a silver tongue- mine's more like one of those roll-up party horns. As a result, when I talk- especially about the things I'm interested about- I think I sound rather manic.
Combine manic speed-talking with a whole load of wild hand gestures and an increasingly shrill voice as I struggled to compete with the growing din of a large crowd with booming club music in a small room, and you'll get a general feel for how I was coming off.
Combine this with my unbridled geekiness, then, well...
I joked with some other friends that I wasn't worried about meeting weirdos: I'D be the weirdo. I joked that there would be guys going home later that night, going back to their mates and saying "Yeah... there was this one really crazy girl there..." By the time I left, I really felt like I'd completed my own prophecy. The confident guys either humoured me or, in one case, acted physically repelled by me (although the latter wasn't much liked by my friends either because of his slightly arrogant air), and the shy guys were overwhelmed by me.
Without further ado, here were some of the most memorable moments of the evening on my end.
The Good:
One guy asked me what the most exciting thing I'd done in the last couple of years was (I replied I went to Go Ape). This was a nice change from the 'so what do you do?' or 'is this your first time speed dating?' questions I'd been asked. As the minutes went by the subject of me once doing a lot of battle reenactment came up, and I was impressed that he actually asked what century reenactment my group did and what kind of sword I had. I asked him what TV and books he liked, and just as he replied 'Game of Thrones' the bell went *DINGDINGDING* before I had a chance to enthuse. Ah well- such is the nature of speed dating. I scribbled 'Paddy- Game if Thrones' hurriedly as a prompt on my 'score sheet'.
As soon as this other guy sat down, I decided to ask him what the most geeky thing about him was. To my puzzlement and amusement, he stared at me, blinked and suddenly replied "You know what, screw this. I'm liking your blue dress and black cardi thingy combo." I laughed and said thanks, but I still expected him to answer the question. When I asked him what he did, he only replied "All in good time." As our conversation progressed it became very apparent that there were very few geeky bones in this guy's body, and he even asked me "So would you force any unsuspecting boyfriend into wearing a costume to Comicon with you?" (My answer was of course not- one man's cosplay is another man's form of cruel and unusual punishment). The bell went *DINGDINGDING*, and just as he got up he shot back in my direction, "And to answer your earlier question I work in finance." "Oh! I'm sorry" I said, and thankfully he laughed. I scribbled 'Daniel-Does-Not-Do-Comicon' down.
The Bad:
The arrogant guy- as he slid across the sofa, I joked at how they could have picked better seating arrangements for a bunch of strangers meeting each other for the first time, wanting to make the best impression. I wasn't expecting the single raised eyebrow I got, paired with a very chilly, "Actually, I thought I did that rather well." I laughed as if he were joking, but he just continued to stare ever so slightly down his nose at me and repeated, " Wouldn't you say I did that well?" I rolled my eyes and said something like 'fine then'. We ended up talking about food for the rest of the few minutes left (at least food is something I can talk about), with him mentioning one of these fancy places that has no menu and me struggling to remember the name of one of my favourite Malaysian restaurants as he boredly stared at me as I struggled. It was a rather long four minutes. At least my friends all had a similar experience. To be honest, he was acting like actually being there made him sick. You know what the craziest thing is? The friend he came with happened to be Game Of Thrones Paddy.
When one guy asked me if I'd been speed dating before and I said no, he countered with, "You have such a lovely, innocent face for someone who lies so well!" I covered my discomfort by a show of obvious mock-offence.
The Mad:
That'd be me, then. Aside from mentioning I owned my own chain mail, lost two years of my life to World of Warcraft and have been to London Comicon dressed in Stark Trek uniform, I also occasionally asked "What would you rather be: a pineapple or a papaya?" Curiously everyone I asked answered pineapple, and everyone said it was because of their hair. I also asked "Star Wars or Star Trek?" on one occasion.
The Interesting:
One guy's English wasn't particularly polished, and it turned out that he came from a small village in Italy and had moved to London to seek his fortune as an artist (or rather seek a career- few ever make a fortune in art). Not quite believing him I asked him questions like what was his favourite medium, period of style and favourite artists, and to my astonishment he was totally genuine. I didn't put him down as a 'Yes' or a 'Friend', but all the same when I wished him well in the city at the end of the four minutes, I meant it wholeheartedly.
So would I do it again? Maybe. Not in a long while- it was more a novelty and a fun night out for me, and I certainly didn't expect to meet any knights in shining armour. They say speed dating is a numbers game, but I never was that great at probability in maths.
Anyway, there are several major flaws to speed dating, the major one in my opinion being the time limit. Sure it's handy if you get someone you don't get on with, but what about people like Game of Thrones guy? There were a few more like him, like a slightly shy-er guy who I found out when we had just seconds to go that he played jazz piano (interesting to me, being a qualified pianist), and another even shy-er guy who was just beginning to come out of his shell before he had to move on.
The second biggest flaw is more of a personal one: I'm a geek girl. I'm pretty niche. Even worse, by a lot of 'geek guy' standards I'm not 'geeky enough' (sod them, is what I say). Speed dating events in my age range are often for city professionals who are more into sports than sci-fi. So I can't really win. All I can do is do what I do best, and be myself as hard as I possibly can.
One question I really wanted to ask people but never got around to was, "What do you enjoy most about being single?" I could give a whole list of reasons why I love being single- which is probably why I only ticked the 'Friend' box on my score sheet for some of the guys, and no 'Yes'es for dating. Dating and boyfriends can wait- I'm too busy geeking out.
So. After the event you go home, and in the next couple of days enter in your ticks online to see if anyone has matched up with you. Did I get any friend matches afterwards? Well, I've just gotten around to checking and yes, I have two: one is the shy-er guy, and the other, most amusingly, is 'Daniel-Does-Not-Do-Comicon'. 'Game If Thrones Paddy' has yet to input his scores.
I did find 'Daniel-Does-Not-Do-Comicon' quite fun though, and thought we'd probably actually get on rather well despite the culture difference (or else it would have been rather silly for me to tick 'Friend' if I didn't mean it, wouldn't it?). In fact, halfway through writing this I got a pop-up email alert telling me that he's sent me a message. I haven't read it yet- it's way past my bedtime and my brain has already made as much social interaction as it can take for a few days. I'll take a look and maybe reply tomorrow. This could be entertaining...
Saturday, 8 June 2013
The Line Between Assertiveness and Rudeness
I bought some dried fruit from a market stall, today. There were two guys running it- one who seemed perfectly amiable who I was chatting to, and another who was quite mouthy in a way it was clear he thought was funny and edgy. As soon as I decided on what to buy, the mouthy guy brusquely took over from his colleague.
"So how much would you like?"
"Just a small handful, please."
The guy behind the stall grabbed a massive fistful of dried mango and stuffed it into the paper bag, to my dismay, and followed with a second fistful. He dumped the full-to-bursting bag onto the scales.
"That'll be eight pounds."
I gave an easy laugh to cover my annoyance. "I said a small handful! I don't think I can eat eight pounds worth. Can you make it about three pounds, please?"
Mouthy guy smirked and removed a small amount of fruit from the bag.
"Five pounds."
"Er- no, I said three pounds."
Mouthy guy grinned again. "Thirty pounds, did you say?"
"Three," I said firmly, trying to control my escaping patience. All I bloody wanted was a bloody bit of fruit. "If I can't eat eight pounds worth of dried fruit, I certainly can't eat thirty pounds worth of it."
"Okay okay, three." He finally took out enough of the bag to make a sensible amount of fruit, and I handed over a five pound note.
"Oh look," Mouthy guy said to his colleague, "She's given us a pound tip each!" The other guy gave a half-hearted 'ha-ha'.
"Sorry," I said, feeling my smile turn a little sharp. "I'm not that generous."
Mouthy guy finally stopped with the badly-constructed banter and handed over the change, and the other trader and I wished each other a nice day. Well, to seem less harsh, I wished a nice day back in both of their general directions. But really I only made eye contact with the less mouthy of the two (hah, take that. It's the small victories...)
Was I rude, by the end? I'm not sure. Not even sure I care. Hell, a few years ago I would have just accepted a gargantuan eight pound bag of fruit in order to avoid confrontation- but that's not me any more. I'm finding more and more that I'm able to take less and less crap. That can only be a good thing, right? I mean I've always wanted to be the kind of person who will treat everyone with equal respect and kindness, but there has to be a line between being kind and being a doormat.
Just last week I was in a bakery and this guy was completely blocking the aisle looking at something, bent over in such a sharp L-shape that his head touched one side of the aisle and his arse the other. My first polite 'excuse me' caused another gentleman to shift out of the way (and he wasn't really in the way to begin with, bless him). But the L-shape guy: nothing. My second polite 'excuse me' elicited no response from him, either.
My final attempt came out as a very acerbic "Excuse me". And by golly he moved- slowly and defiantly, but move he did- but not before giving me the most poisonous look I have ever seen directed at me. I mean it, too: I'm not in the habit of making enemies, but I'm pretty sure I made one, that day.
"Thank you!" I cheerfully trilled in a sugary-sweet voice, and almost danced past.
Again, did I cross the line of assertiveness and go over to the dark side of rudeness? Probably. Do I feel bad about it? No. Does a small part of me quite like this newfound power? Worryingly, yes.
"So how much would you like?"
"Just a small handful, please."
The guy behind the stall grabbed a massive fistful of dried mango and stuffed it into the paper bag, to my dismay, and followed with a second fistful. He dumped the full-to-bursting bag onto the scales.
"That'll be eight pounds."
I gave an easy laugh to cover my annoyance. "I said a small handful! I don't think I can eat eight pounds worth. Can you make it about three pounds, please?"
Mouthy guy smirked and removed a small amount of fruit from the bag.
"Five pounds."
"Er- no, I said three pounds."
Mouthy guy grinned again. "Thirty pounds, did you say?"
"Three," I said firmly, trying to control my escaping patience. All I bloody wanted was a bloody bit of fruit. "If I can't eat eight pounds worth of dried fruit, I certainly can't eat thirty pounds worth of it."
"Okay okay, three." He finally took out enough of the bag to make a sensible amount of fruit, and I handed over a five pound note.
"Oh look," Mouthy guy said to his colleague, "She's given us a pound tip each!" The other guy gave a half-hearted 'ha-ha'.
"Sorry," I said, feeling my smile turn a little sharp. "I'm not that generous."
Mouthy guy finally stopped with the badly-constructed banter and handed over the change, and the other trader and I wished each other a nice day. Well, to seem less harsh, I wished a nice day back in both of their general directions. But really I only made eye contact with the less mouthy of the two (hah, take that. It's the small victories...)
Was I rude, by the end? I'm not sure. Not even sure I care. Hell, a few years ago I would have just accepted a gargantuan eight pound bag of fruit in order to avoid confrontation- but that's not me any more. I'm finding more and more that I'm able to take less and less crap. That can only be a good thing, right? I mean I've always wanted to be the kind of person who will treat everyone with equal respect and kindness, but there has to be a line between being kind and being a doormat.
Just last week I was in a bakery and this guy was completely blocking the aisle looking at something, bent over in such a sharp L-shape that his head touched one side of the aisle and his arse the other. My first polite 'excuse me' caused another gentleman to shift out of the way (and he wasn't really in the way to begin with, bless him). But the L-shape guy: nothing. My second polite 'excuse me' elicited no response from him, either.
My final attempt came out as a very acerbic "Excuse me". And by golly he moved- slowly and defiantly, but move he did- but not before giving me the most poisonous look I have ever seen directed at me. I mean it, too: I'm not in the habit of making enemies, but I'm pretty sure I made one, that day.
"Thank you!" I cheerfully trilled in a sugary-sweet voice, and almost danced past.
Again, did I cross the line of assertiveness and go over to the dark side of rudeness? Probably. Do I feel bad about it? No. Does a small part of me quite like this newfound power? Worryingly, yes.
Saturday, 9 February 2013
Eternal Weirdo Magnet
Have I ever told you about the guy who called himself 'Ace'?
In my first year and a half of university I worked part time as a silver service waitress (you might think that this would be a potentially disastrous job for someone with such an artful knack of knocking things over but I was actually pretty decent at it). I got to work at some cool events, like at Twickenham rugby stadium during a big England-vs-Somebody match, the Cheltenham races and the like- I can't remember everything I went to, this being seven odd years ago. Neither can I remember particularly enjoying the events because when you work in catering you're so rushed off your feet you can only concentrate on your job and nothing else.
One particular event that still stands out in my mind though was when I served in a box at the Tottenham Hotspur football grounds. I barely noticed the match because I was so busy looking after the family in the box (no big loss though, I don't even like football), I only vaguely took note of the slightly rude nature of the family (again no big deal- you get a lot of that when you're a waitress, silver service or not), but I did notice this one guy following me around- a fellow waiter.
I'll never know why he fixed his scarily determined sights on me. At first I thought it was just a coincidence that he went into the kitchens and came out at the exact same time as me, every time. I continued to think this right up until the second half of the match, when 'my family' had settled down and I went to stand outside- and he was there, waiting for me, having apparently followed me all the way to my box.
I can't for the life of me remember how the conversation began, but it was only a few pleasantries into the conversation until we introduced ourselves. This was how he introduced himself:
"You can call me Ace."
Not 'My name is Ace'. Not even 'My name's ___ but my friends call me Ace'. Just 'You can call me Ace.'
A few more pleasantries, and suddenly it became Speed Dating 101. The creepy version. Here are a few questions that he literally rattled off in quick succession at me that I can remember:
"How old are you?" (I'm not even kidding you, this was his very first question).
"Are you from around here?"
"Where do you live?"
"What are you doing tonight?"
"What's your number?"
I considered giving him a fake number, until he told me he'd ring it then and there so my phone would have his number on record- so if I'd given him a fake one, he'd know right away as we both stood there.
Touché, 'Ace', touché.
He was also really tall, and really broad. Just slightly on the intimidating side. So when he said he'd come find me after our shifts to chat more, and I said thanks for the offer but I needed to get home quick, and he said not to worry and he'd be there to meet me in a flash, and I said firmly that I'd be going straight home, and he said he insisted and would be there waiting for me, I got a little nervous.
I made sure I'd cleaned up in record-fast time, and was eternally grateful that 'my family' hadn't made a mess of the box so there wasn't much for me to do, so I was able to dash out before 'Ace' got to my box. Once I was out, I checked my phone, marked his number as 'DO NOT PICK UP' (because if I'd merely deleted it I'd forget it was him and pick up if he ever called), had a laugh with my friends about it and promptly forgot about it.
A few months later I was in my student house with my two housemates and a friend (in fact one housemate and the friend were Lucia and Peter who got married recently), I got a call from the catering agency. Or so I thought.
"Hello, Natasha? This is Ace! How are you?"
"..."
After a pause that lasted for what seemed like forever, I hung up. At first I panicked and thought he'd contacted me through the agency- but the most likely situation is that my phone, an ancient Sony Ericsson, had switched the numbers. It had erased names from my phone while leaving the numbers behind before, so it's possible. In any case, I never heard from him again after that.
It's funny if you've read my blog up until this post, because you'll know that my luck with these sorts of encounters has not changed in the past seven years.
~Fin~
In my first year and a half of university I worked part time as a silver service waitress (you might think that this would be a potentially disastrous job for someone with such an artful knack of knocking things over but I was actually pretty decent at it). I got to work at some cool events, like at Twickenham rugby stadium during a big England-vs-Somebody match, the Cheltenham races and the like- I can't remember everything I went to, this being seven odd years ago. Neither can I remember particularly enjoying the events because when you work in catering you're so rushed off your feet you can only concentrate on your job and nothing else.
One particular event that still stands out in my mind though was when I served in a box at the Tottenham Hotspur football grounds. I barely noticed the match because I was so busy looking after the family in the box (no big loss though, I don't even like football), I only vaguely took note of the slightly rude nature of the family (again no big deal- you get a lot of that when you're a waitress, silver service or not), but I did notice this one guy following me around- a fellow waiter.
I'll never know why he fixed his scarily determined sights on me. At first I thought it was just a coincidence that he went into the kitchens and came out at the exact same time as me, every time. I continued to think this right up until the second half of the match, when 'my family' had settled down and I went to stand outside- and he was there, waiting for me, having apparently followed me all the way to my box.
I can't for the life of me remember how the conversation began, but it was only a few pleasantries into the conversation until we introduced ourselves. This was how he introduced himself:
"You can call me Ace."
Not 'My name is Ace'. Not even 'My name's ___ but my friends call me Ace'. Just 'You can call me Ace.'
A few more pleasantries, and suddenly it became Speed Dating 101. The creepy version. Here are a few questions that he literally rattled off in quick succession at me that I can remember:
"How old are you?" (I'm not even kidding you, this was his very first question).
"Are you from around here?"
"Where do you live?"
"What are you doing tonight?"
"What's your number?"
I considered giving him a fake number, until he told me he'd ring it then and there so my phone would have his number on record- so if I'd given him a fake one, he'd know right away as we both stood there.
Touché, 'Ace', touché.
He was also really tall, and really broad. Just slightly on the intimidating side. So when he said he'd come find me after our shifts to chat more, and I said thanks for the offer but I needed to get home quick, and he said not to worry and he'd be there to meet me in a flash, and I said firmly that I'd be going straight home, and he said he insisted and would be there waiting for me, I got a little nervous.
I made sure I'd cleaned up in record-fast time, and was eternally grateful that 'my family' hadn't made a mess of the box so there wasn't much for me to do, so I was able to dash out before 'Ace' got to my box. Once I was out, I checked my phone, marked his number as 'DO NOT PICK UP' (because if I'd merely deleted it I'd forget it was him and pick up if he ever called), had a laugh with my friends about it and promptly forgot about it.
A few months later I was in my student house with my two housemates and a friend (in fact one housemate and the friend were Lucia and Peter who got married recently), I got a call from the catering agency. Or so I thought.
"Hello, Natasha? This is Ace! How are you?"
"..."
After a pause that lasted for what seemed like forever, I hung up. At first I panicked and thought he'd contacted me through the agency- but the most likely situation is that my phone, an ancient Sony Ericsson, had switched the numbers. It had erased names from my phone while leaving the numbers behind before, so it's possible. In any case, I never heard from him again after that.
It's funny if you've read my blog up until this post, because you'll know that my luck with these sorts of encounters has not changed in the past seven years.
~Fin~
Sunday, 3 February 2013
Moments with Friends- Part 2
This is also actually a supplement story to the Romantically Challenged entry I wrote last year (the one where I tried to start a conversation with a nice-looking guy who worked in a chocolate shop by more or less asking him if he liked chocolate... yes, yes I know).
On that same day Lucia and I were perusing all the different flavours in that shop when another man who worked there came to educate us about chocolate.
"Chocolate is a journey", he said almost reverently at one point as he handed us a sample. Lucia and I stole a glance at each other, neither one of us sure if he was being serious or pulling our legs.
"Yes, you can really pick out different types of flavours," Lucia said bravely, subtly turning to me to give a half-shrug as I quirked an eyebrow back.
"It's interesting how chocolate from different origins works with different flavours: for example the truffles over there all work well with fillings, whereas this sort of chocolate is good enjoyed flat." He held out a bar of chocolate to indicate.
"What do you mean, 'flat?'" I asked, still in the world of flavours. Now both Lucia and the store assistant turned to look at me.
"...Flat?" The store assistant repeated slowly.
"Er- yes," I began, the feeling of realising I'd misunderstood something obvious- but still not knowing what it was- making my face slowly flush.
"It's a flat chocolate," he said, just as flatly.
"Yes. Um. Yes, but what does 'flat' mean?"
I saw Lucia grin out of the corner of my eye, realising that I wasn't actually asking about what the word itself meant, as the shop assistant looked at me like I was some kind of buffoon.
"It's flat. The chocolate is flat. See?" He held it out in the palm of his hand.
Flat. It had a flat shape.
The penny dropped.
"Ohhh I see! Haha, I thought you were talking about flavour or texture, like when a soft drink is fizzy or flat, and I was wondering if there was a chocolate equivalent of a flat drink, or..." I tailed off, embarrassed.
"No." He said, and simply walked off. I felt my face grow hotter and hoped that the other nice-looking guy hadn't overheard.
~Fin~
'What does flat mean?' Hah. In my defence, it's not that I'm stupid: it's just that I'm so clever that sometimes my tangled brain overcomplicates things unnecessarily- this has actually been said about me many times.
Funnily enough, this often ends up having exactly the same effect as being stupid.
On that same day Lucia and I were perusing all the different flavours in that shop when another man who worked there came to educate us about chocolate.
"Chocolate is a journey", he said almost reverently at one point as he handed us a sample. Lucia and I stole a glance at each other, neither one of us sure if he was being serious or pulling our legs.
"Yes, you can really pick out different types of flavours," Lucia said bravely, subtly turning to me to give a half-shrug as I quirked an eyebrow back.
"It's interesting how chocolate from different origins works with different flavours: for example the truffles over there all work well with fillings, whereas this sort of chocolate is good enjoyed flat." He held out a bar of chocolate to indicate.
"What do you mean, 'flat?'" I asked, still in the world of flavours. Now both Lucia and the store assistant turned to look at me.
"...Flat?" The store assistant repeated slowly.
"Er- yes," I began, the feeling of realising I'd misunderstood something obvious- but still not knowing what it was- making my face slowly flush.
"It's a flat chocolate," he said, just as flatly.
"Yes. Um. Yes, but what does 'flat' mean?"
I saw Lucia grin out of the corner of my eye, realising that I wasn't actually asking about what the word itself meant, as the shop assistant looked at me like I was some kind of buffoon.
"It's flat. The chocolate is flat. See?" He held it out in the palm of his hand.
Flat. It had a flat shape.
The penny dropped.
"Ohhh I see! Haha, I thought you were talking about flavour or texture, like when a soft drink is fizzy or flat, and I was wondering if there was a chocolate equivalent of a flat drink, or..." I tailed off, embarrassed.
"No." He said, and simply walked off. I felt my face grow hotter and hoped that the other nice-looking guy hadn't overheard.
~Fin~
'What does flat mean?' Hah. In my defence, it's not that I'm stupid: it's just that I'm so clever that sometimes my tangled brain overcomplicates things unnecessarily- this has actually been said about me many times.
Funnily enough, this often ends up having exactly the same effect as being stupid.
Wednesday, 7 November 2012
My First Metal Concert/ People-Sniffing
I have been listening to Nightwish since I was about fifteen years old- so ten years, then. Not only have I never seen them live before, but I've never seen any band live, so I was pretty damn excited for my first one to be Nightwish.
I queued up outside the Birmingham O2 Academy with my friend Lucia in my black skinny jeans, burgundy biker-style jacket and great big boots just in case anyone would be treading on anyone else's feet (I figured I'd go for the 'crush or be crushed' approach), brimming with anticipation and yes, a little bit of fear too- another friend had warned me about things like walls of death and circle pits (both forms of extreme moshing- look them up on YouTube for an idea of the carnage that can occur), and I was warned to avoid the front and stay towards the back.
So, of course, you can guess where I ended up being chivvied.
I needn't have worried though- although there was the odd bit of pushing and shoving up at front, the crowd was quite diverse in age and nature and, for the most part, surprisingly courteous to each other. At one point a quad of loudmouthed yobs tried to start a wall of death by bodyslamming around, but to my amusement were met with very icy and very British glares all round from long-haired young metalheads to more mature-looking revellers alike. It was a real mix of real people- mostly of student stock, of course, but plenty of people in the next tier of age like myself, and quite a few more seasoned concert goers, too. I even saw an old boy in a wheelchair up in the circle.
However, I happened to have two freaking weird people behind me for a large portion of the concert. The guy, who I shall refer to as Curlybonce for his mop of corkscrew hair, was as dull as a marshmallow spoon, and the girl- possibly his girlfriend- who I shall refer to as Rainbowhead for her admittedly awesome rainbow-striped hair, was, well... anyway, Curleybonce's eyes looked like this: =_= and Rainbowhead's eyes looked like this: O_O, so they were both at very least thoroughly marinated. Throughout the supporting band Pain's performance I was vaguely aware of someone pressing up right against my back and almost in the crook of my neck, but hey, I was more or less in a mosh pit (although people were only really lightly moshing at the best of times), so it didn't really bother me much (and certainly not as much as later on when a big guy was flush against me and there was something not-quite-right digging into my back... again, I chalked that up to a hazard of being in the stalls).
I think it was when the supporting band Pain went offstage that I felt a small hand on my shoulder. I turned around to find Rainbowhead's nose about two inches from mine, her wide eyes staring into my soul. She said to me in hushed tones,
"Excuse me, but you smell absolutely incredible."
Er.
"I do?" My super-friendly defence mechanism kick-started itself and I grinned like a maniac. "Haha, aww, thank you!"
"Yes, you smell amazing." She edged closer and I tried and failed to take a step back, having nowhere to go in the sardine can that was the front of the stalls. "Tell me, what do you use?"
"It's this new oil perfume from Lush- do you know Lush?" I said, feeling more like I was in my element now (being a Lush fan for many years and having worked for them at one point). "It's called Sikkim Girls." I smiled and turned around, thinking I'd done my job and been helpful. I felt the small hand on my shoulder again and turned around, Rainbowhead's face still occupying the same amount of my personal space as it had before.
"Is it Vanillary?"
"Er... no it's... it's Sikkim Girls. It's more of a-"
"Hey guys you really need to check this out, come over and smell her she smells amazing!" Rainbowhead had whipped around to address Curlybonce and a few others apparently from their group, and she whipped back round at me. "Come back here so everyone can smell you!"
Feeling quite like I was quite back out of my element again, I faltered. "I'm really quite happy right here where I am, thank you..."
"Aww, but I want everyone to check your perfume out, come on!"
"Um, no?"
Lucia (keeping in mind this is the same friend who I mentioned a while back got married in June), who had been previously jostled relentlessly by Rainbowhead's erratic 'dancing' and was watching in disbelief, rounded on Rainbowhead and told her to cut it out.
"Oh," Said Rainbowhead in a mock-conspiratory tone to me, "I'd better leave you alone, I don't think your friend- or girlfriend, whichever- likes me."
"Just friend", I laughed, just as Lucia snapped "Her friend, actually."
Rainbowhead shrugged and smiled dreamily. "Friend, girlfriend, who knows?"
"I know, and I'm telling you." Lucia retorted (as I tried not to laugh even harder at my friend's loyal outrage on my behalf and at this girl's obliviousness). Lucia gritted her teeth as Rainbowhead imitated her voice and turned her back to her.
As for Curlybonce, he kept shoving into me and elbowing me in the head for most of the supporting act until I yelled 'Oi' and Lucia poked him and told him to back off (met only with this face: =_= and without a word). Then, later on when marshals were getting us to pass cups of water down to the rest of the crowd, he wouldn't take it.
'=_=', He gazed at me.
"Please pass this on," I politely requested, feeling that it should have been plainly obvious to him that this was the general idea of passing water back but trying to remain gracious.
His gormless gaze took on a slightly annoyed look, and he didn't budge an inch.
And very suddenly, I lost my patience.
"At-least-pass-the-damned-thing-on," I snarled at him, shoving the cup closer to his face. His face took on a slightly more affronted look, and he slowly and wordlessly took the cup of water from me and passed it behind him.
Thankfully the two of them moved on shortly after. The concert itself was amazing though, with a lot of my favourites played- and I got to see the keyboardist/ main composer Tuomas in the flesh, whom I used to have a bit of a thing for when I first got into Nightwish (I mentally high-fived my past teenage self when he settled on the same side of the stage as where I was facing). Also, for the few annoying sods that there were, the presence of a few nice one made all the difference- we got talking a bit to a guy called Kevin from Devon, who seemed like a genuinely nice dude and we thought looked a bit like Peeta Mellark from the Hunger Games (Kevin, if you ever stumble across this blog, you're mad for going back to work in Devon literally the day after and I hope you got home alright), and there was another girl just in front of us who was quite friendly too.
All in all, I felt it was quite genteel for a metal concert- certainly it was good fun. I'm glad no circle pits or anything happened, despite a handful of idiots' best efforts. Now if only I could get a hold of some infamously illusive tickets to see Muse (which usually sell out in minutes and are subsequently found on eBay for a shocking amount)... it certainly won't be my last band concert, that's for sure.
~Fin~
I queued up outside the Birmingham O2 Academy with my friend Lucia in my black skinny jeans, burgundy biker-style jacket and great big boots just in case anyone would be treading on anyone else's feet (I figured I'd go for the 'crush or be crushed' approach), brimming with anticipation and yes, a little bit of fear too- another friend had warned me about things like walls of death and circle pits (both forms of extreme moshing- look them up on YouTube for an idea of the carnage that can occur), and I was warned to avoid the front and stay towards the back.
So, of course, you can guess where I ended up being chivvied.
I needn't have worried though- although there was the odd bit of pushing and shoving up at front, the crowd was quite diverse in age and nature and, for the most part, surprisingly courteous to each other. At one point a quad of loudmouthed yobs tried to start a wall of death by bodyslamming around, but to my amusement were met with very icy and very British glares all round from long-haired young metalheads to more mature-looking revellers alike. It was a real mix of real people- mostly of student stock, of course, but plenty of people in the next tier of age like myself, and quite a few more seasoned concert goers, too. I even saw an old boy in a wheelchair up in the circle.
However, I happened to have two freaking weird people behind me for a large portion of the concert. The guy, who I shall refer to as Curlybonce for his mop of corkscrew hair, was as dull as a marshmallow spoon, and the girl- possibly his girlfriend- who I shall refer to as Rainbowhead for her admittedly awesome rainbow-striped hair, was, well... anyway, Curleybonce's eyes looked like this: =_= and Rainbowhead's eyes looked like this: O_O, so they were both at very least thoroughly marinated. Throughout the supporting band Pain's performance I was vaguely aware of someone pressing up right against my back and almost in the crook of my neck, but hey, I was more or less in a mosh pit (although people were only really lightly moshing at the best of times), so it didn't really bother me much (and certainly not as much as later on when a big guy was flush against me and there was something not-quite-right digging into my back... again, I chalked that up to a hazard of being in the stalls).
I think it was when the supporting band Pain went offstage that I felt a small hand on my shoulder. I turned around to find Rainbowhead's nose about two inches from mine, her wide eyes staring into my soul. She said to me in hushed tones,
"Excuse me, but you smell absolutely incredible."
Er.
"I do?" My super-friendly defence mechanism kick-started itself and I grinned like a maniac. "Haha, aww, thank you!"
"Yes, you smell amazing." She edged closer and I tried and failed to take a step back, having nowhere to go in the sardine can that was the front of the stalls. "Tell me, what do you use?"
"It's this new oil perfume from Lush- do you know Lush?" I said, feeling more like I was in my element now (being a Lush fan for many years and having worked for them at one point). "It's called Sikkim Girls." I smiled and turned around, thinking I'd done my job and been helpful. I felt the small hand on my shoulder again and turned around, Rainbowhead's face still occupying the same amount of my personal space as it had before.
"Is it Vanillary?"
"Er... no it's... it's Sikkim Girls. It's more of a-"
"Hey guys you really need to check this out, come over and smell her she smells amazing!" Rainbowhead had whipped around to address Curlybonce and a few others apparently from their group, and she whipped back round at me. "Come back here so everyone can smell you!"
Feeling quite like I was quite back out of my element again, I faltered. "I'm really quite happy right here where I am, thank you..."
"Aww, but I want everyone to check your perfume out, come on!"
"Um, no?"
Lucia (keeping in mind this is the same friend who I mentioned a while back got married in June), who had been previously jostled relentlessly by Rainbowhead's erratic 'dancing' and was watching in disbelief, rounded on Rainbowhead and told her to cut it out.
"Oh," Said Rainbowhead in a mock-conspiratory tone to me, "I'd better leave you alone, I don't think your friend- or girlfriend, whichever- likes me."
"Just friend", I laughed, just as Lucia snapped "Her friend, actually."
Rainbowhead shrugged and smiled dreamily. "Friend, girlfriend, who knows?"
"I know, and I'm telling you." Lucia retorted (as I tried not to laugh even harder at my friend's loyal outrage on my behalf and at this girl's obliviousness). Lucia gritted her teeth as Rainbowhead imitated her voice and turned her back to her.
As for Curlybonce, he kept shoving into me and elbowing me in the head for most of the supporting act until I yelled 'Oi' and Lucia poked him and told him to back off (met only with this face: =_= and without a word). Then, later on when marshals were getting us to pass cups of water down to the rest of the crowd, he wouldn't take it.
'=_=', He gazed at me.
"Please pass this on," I politely requested, feeling that it should have been plainly obvious to him that this was the general idea of passing water back but trying to remain gracious.
His gormless gaze took on a slightly annoyed look, and he didn't budge an inch.
And very suddenly, I lost my patience.
"At-least-pass-the-damned-thing-on," I snarled at him, shoving the cup closer to his face. His face took on a slightly more affronted look, and he slowly and wordlessly took the cup of water from me and passed it behind him.
Thankfully the two of them moved on shortly after. The concert itself was amazing though, with a lot of my favourites played- and I got to see the keyboardist/ main composer Tuomas in the flesh, whom I used to have a bit of a thing for when I first got into Nightwish (I mentally high-fived my past teenage self when he settled on the same side of the stage as where I was facing). Also, for the few annoying sods that there were, the presence of a few nice one made all the difference- we got talking a bit to a guy called Kevin from Devon, who seemed like a genuinely nice dude and we thought looked a bit like Peeta Mellark from the Hunger Games (Kevin, if you ever stumble across this blog, you're mad for going back to work in Devon literally the day after and I hope you got home alright), and there was another girl just in front of us who was quite friendly too.
All in all, I felt it was quite genteel for a metal concert- certainly it was good fun. I'm glad no circle pits or anything happened, despite a handful of idiots' best efforts. Now if only I could get a hold of some infamously illusive tickets to see Muse (which usually sell out in minutes and are subsequently found on eBay for a shocking amount)... it certainly won't be my last band concert, that's for sure.
~Fin~
Friday, 26 October 2012
Short Stories: Weird Taxi Drivers
A few years ago in my last job in Birmingham, before I had a car handy, I would sometimes share a taxi with my colleague Warren instead of walking to the train station after work. On one occasion, I made the mistake of going ahead and getting into the taxi whilst my colleague finished locking up.
"Aaaah, you must be a friend of Warren!" Chirped the driver (who I shall call Mr. Taxi Man) as I closed the door after me.
"Yes- I work with him. He's just locking up, he'll be here in a bit."
"Riiiight, riiiiight," he drawled, "Good man, that Warren, good man. Do you have a boyfriend?"
What.
"Er- yes?" I replied warily, a bit thrown by the sudden direct question.
"Riiiight, riiiight, nice girl like you should have a boyfriend. Is he good-looking?"
I adopted my best poker face, sensing there'd be more personal questions to follow.
"I'd say so."
"And he looks after you, yes? A man should always look after his woman."
For some reason I bristled at this. "Well, yes, but we both look after each other, really."
"Such a nice pretty girl. What does he do for you?" Mr Taxi Man persisted.
Not liking where this was going, I decided not to hear and peered out of the window. "Oh look, Warren's just coming over- he heads off to Harborne, but if you could drop me off at the station first I'd be grateful."
"Where do you live?"
At this point Warren got in the car, saving me of having to give an evasive answer. Warren peered at the driver, a spark of recognition on his face, smiled politely and said to the driver "I see you've been talking to my friend here?"
And in the creepiest voice I've ever heard, Mr Taxi Man said:
"She's my friend too, now."
~Fin~
Afterword: I learned the next day, once Warren and I had stopped laughing about it and out of earshot of Mr Taxi Man, that Warren has had dealings with this driver before, and he's not really a creepy taxi driver in the sense that he's dangerous but always a bit, well, weird. I hope this is true, anyway. In any case, if ever I noticed him behind the wheel after that, I'd politely decline a lift and walk.
Also, if you're a fan of the BBC series the League of Gentleman, you'll appreciate why "She's my friend too, now" was both hilarious and terrifying at the same time. If not, watch this and skip to 2:40: You're My Wife Now...
"Aaaah, you must be a friend of Warren!" Chirped the driver (who I shall call Mr. Taxi Man) as I closed the door after me.
"Yes- I work with him. He's just locking up, he'll be here in a bit."
"Riiiight, riiiiight," he drawled, "Good man, that Warren, good man. Do you have a boyfriend?"
What.
"Er- yes?" I replied warily, a bit thrown by the sudden direct question.
"Riiiight, riiiight, nice girl like you should have a boyfriend. Is he good-looking?"
I adopted my best poker face, sensing there'd be more personal questions to follow.
"I'd say so."
"And he looks after you, yes? A man should always look after his woman."
For some reason I bristled at this. "Well, yes, but we both look after each other, really."
"Such a nice pretty girl. What does he do for you?" Mr Taxi Man persisted.
Not liking where this was going, I decided not to hear and peered out of the window. "Oh look, Warren's just coming over- he heads off to Harborne, but if you could drop me off at the station first I'd be grateful."
"Where do you live?"
At this point Warren got in the car, saving me of having to give an evasive answer. Warren peered at the driver, a spark of recognition on his face, smiled politely and said to the driver "I see you've been talking to my friend here?"
And in the creepiest voice I've ever heard, Mr Taxi Man said:
"She's my friend too, now."
~Fin~
Afterword: I learned the next day, once Warren and I had stopped laughing about it and out of earshot of Mr Taxi Man, that Warren has had dealings with this driver before, and he's not really a creepy taxi driver in the sense that he's dangerous but always a bit, well, weird. I hope this is true, anyway. In any case, if ever I noticed him behind the wheel after that, I'd politely decline a lift and walk.
Also, if you're a fan of the BBC series the League of Gentleman, you'll appreciate why "She's my friend too, now" was both hilarious and terrifying at the same time. If not, watch this and skip to 2:40: You're My Wife Now...
Monday, 15 October 2012
More Potential Unwanted Attention: Part 3
In which my colleagues finally catch a glimpse of the guy they've teasingly dubbed my 'stalker'.
Today, our team had just driven back from a long out-of-office morning meeting and were ravenous for lunch, so we stopped off by the shops- the same one where this guy works, but I was too hungry to really think about that. Besides, I had been out plenty of times since the last run-in (in the company of a colleague or two, of course), and seen no sign of him.
It was reasonably busy in the shop so the all of the tills were being manned, but most people like me just had one or two things and it was going quickly. As the queue moved along I chatted to my colleagues and read the nutritional value of my carrot sticks and hummus, and eventually I made my way to the next available cashier.
I plopped my lunch on the counter, still daydreaming.
"A very light lunch today, I see!"
"Yes, I-" I started at the familiar voice, and blinked upwards and out of my reverie, feeling myself going into manic friendly mode. "Oh- hello! How are you?"
"I'm good thanks! Yourself?"
"Oh, same old, same old," I laughed uncertainly.
"How's your work going at the moment?"
I glanced behind me like a panicked bunny rabbit looking for a way out of a fox's path, and I saw my opportunity.
"It's going well- look, I know you're busy and there's a queue building up- I don't want to get you into trouble! I'll see you around, alright?"
"Sure, see you later!"
I hurriedly bustled towards the exit, catching up with one of my colleagues. I caught her gaze, wiggling my eyebrows jerked my head wildly in His direction, indicating that this was the guy I'd been talking about. She raised her eyebrows in return as if to ask 'who, him?' I nodded, and she grinned.
One by one my other colleagues (who were behind me in the queue) caught up with my by the exit, and it was apparent that they'd clocked what was going on, and were very amused.
"That was him, wasn't it! At first I thought you were just randomly being really friendly to someone you'd never met before, but then I remembered about him."
"I'm so sorry Tash, I should have offered to pay for your thing so you could escape, but by the time I realised who he was it was too late."
"Only you could wait in a long queue and end up being served by the one person you want to avoid, Tash."
"I heard your excuse- nicely done!"
"Did you see how he craned around afterwards to check if you were really leaving or not?"
We were outside and I was cracking up by now. "At least you all know for real I haven't made this guy up, now! I just hope he didn't see us convening like a coven and whispering and cackling, or he might get the wrong end of the stick and think I'm interested after all..."
One rolled her eyes in mock-despair. "Of course Tash, now that he knows we work with you he might start asking us about you- so now we can't go to these shops, either!"
It's a shame, because the food in that shop is really good.
To be continued?
Today, our team had just driven back from a long out-of-office morning meeting and were ravenous for lunch, so we stopped off by the shops- the same one where this guy works, but I was too hungry to really think about that. Besides, I had been out plenty of times since the last run-in (in the company of a colleague or two, of course), and seen no sign of him.
It was reasonably busy in the shop so the all of the tills were being manned, but most people like me just had one or two things and it was going quickly. As the queue moved along I chatted to my colleagues and read the nutritional value of my carrot sticks and hummus, and eventually I made my way to the next available cashier.
I plopped my lunch on the counter, still daydreaming.
"A very light lunch today, I see!"
"Yes, I-" I started at the familiar voice, and blinked upwards and out of my reverie, feeling myself going into manic friendly mode. "Oh- hello! How are you?"
"I'm good thanks! Yourself?"
"Oh, same old, same old," I laughed uncertainly.
"How's your work going at the moment?"
I glanced behind me like a panicked bunny rabbit looking for a way out of a fox's path, and I saw my opportunity.
"It's going well- look, I know you're busy and there's a queue building up- I don't want to get you into trouble! I'll see you around, alright?"
"Sure, see you later!"
I hurriedly bustled towards the exit, catching up with one of my colleagues. I caught her gaze, wiggling my eyebrows jerked my head wildly in His direction, indicating that this was the guy I'd been talking about. She raised her eyebrows in return as if to ask 'who, him?' I nodded, and she grinned.
One by one my other colleagues (who were behind me in the queue) caught up with my by the exit, and it was apparent that they'd clocked what was going on, and were very amused.
"That was him, wasn't it! At first I thought you were just randomly being really friendly to someone you'd never met before, but then I remembered about him."
"I'm so sorry Tash, I should have offered to pay for your thing so you could escape, but by the time I realised who he was it was too late."
"Only you could wait in a long queue and end up being served by the one person you want to avoid, Tash."
"I heard your excuse- nicely done!"
"Did you see how he craned around afterwards to check if you were really leaving or not?"
We were outside and I was cracking up by now. "At least you all know for real I haven't made this guy up, now! I just hope he didn't see us convening like a coven and whispering and cackling, or he might get the wrong end of the stick and think I'm interested after all..."
One rolled her eyes in mock-despair. "Of course Tash, now that he knows we work with you he might start asking us about you- so now we can't go to these shops, either!"
It's a shame, because the food in that shop is really good.
To be continued?
Wednesday, 3 October 2012
More Potential Unwanted Attention: Part 2
About that face transplant...
I ventured out earlier than usual today, hoping I could sneak to the Other Shops (the ones where this guy doesn't work). As I turned into the road that leads to the Other Shops I breathed a mental sigh of relief, as I thought I was in the clear.
No such luck, however.
"Hey, Natasha!"
Oh, hell.
"Oh... he- heeeeey!" I grinned, automatically going into super-friendly mode and hating myself for it.
He increased his pace to catch up with me- he seemed to be walking up the path away from the Other Shops, so I jokingly asked him why he was visiting them when he worked at His Shops (which are actually better).
"Haha, yeah, my friends there thought it was weird too. Anyway, are you walking down there? I was just going- we could walk together!"
No. You were clearly just coming back from them.
"Sure, why not?"
Damn.
So we walked and chatted whilst I wracked my brain to find some way to shake him off. Nothing I did seemed to work.
"So, how has your day been today?" He asked.
"Oh, it's been okay. I've spent most of the day writing product copy for hats."
"Oh wow, really? That's cool."
I mentally facepalmed at his almost exaggerated enthusiasm- surely writing about hats doesn't sound that thrilling? I tried again.
"So how come you're off to the (Other Shops)?"
"I just wanted to get some vitamins. Like cod liver oil. Would you be interested in that? You probably are, it's pretty useful for women isn't it, to stay flexible."
What.
"Er yeah haha, good for the joints or something." I tried, bravely.
This continued for a bit- I even found an opportunity to hint at how nerdy I am to try and put him off, and enthusiastically told him the story of how saccharin was invented.
"Oh wow really? That's really interesting!"
We entered the Other Shops around this point.
"By the way Natasha, I couldn't manage to find you on Facebook- you do spell it the normal way, don't you?"
Damn.
"Oh- yes. You know it's funny, people have told me I'm not easy to find on Facebook before." (True). "Why don't you give me your last name and I could look you up?"
"Good idea!"
I was, in the end, saved by my cluttered Mary Poppins/ TARDIS technology bag, as I couldn't find a pen or paper, and the guy said he'd try again and see if he could find my name on the company's Facebook page. Which is unlikely, as I haven't posted there before.
"We could browse around the shops together- what are you looking for today?"
Oh, hell no.
"Er, you know what, I'm sort of funny about doing my shopping with people," (panic mode engaged, lame excuse activated) "and I should be getting back to work soon anyway. But I'm sure I'll see you around soon!"
"Alright, I'll see you around!"
I spent the remaining half hour of my lunch break dodging him and looking over my shoulder until I saw him go- which was quite a good amount of time. Apparently it takes half an hour to buy one small container of cod liver oil.
One thing's for sure though, it's given me enough time to confirm (to my relief) that it's not about trust issues; I'm just genuinely not interested.
However, that doesn't dig me out of the muddy pit of Awkward Situation I'm now in.
To be continued?
I ventured out earlier than usual today, hoping I could sneak to the Other Shops (the ones where this guy doesn't work). As I turned into the road that leads to the Other Shops I breathed a mental sigh of relief, as I thought I was in the clear.
No such luck, however.
"Hey, Natasha!"
Oh, hell.
"Oh... he- heeeeey!" I grinned, automatically going into super-friendly mode and hating myself for it.
He increased his pace to catch up with me- he seemed to be walking up the path away from the Other Shops, so I jokingly asked him why he was visiting them when he worked at His Shops (which are actually better).
"Haha, yeah, my friends there thought it was weird too. Anyway, are you walking down there? I was just going- we could walk together!"
No. You were clearly just coming back from them.
"Sure, why not?"
Damn.
So we walked and chatted whilst I wracked my brain to find some way to shake him off. Nothing I did seemed to work.
"So, how has your day been today?" He asked.
"Oh, it's been okay. I've spent most of the day writing product copy for hats."
"Oh wow, really? That's cool."
I mentally facepalmed at his almost exaggerated enthusiasm- surely writing about hats doesn't sound that thrilling? I tried again.
"So how come you're off to the (Other Shops)?"
"I just wanted to get some vitamins. Like cod liver oil. Would you be interested in that? You probably are, it's pretty useful for women isn't it, to stay flexible."
What.
"Er yeah haha, good for the joints or something." I tried, bravely.
This continued for a bit- I even found an opportunity to hint at how nerdy I am to try and put him off, and enthusiastically told him the story of how saccharin was invented.
"Oh wow really? That's really interesting!"
We entered the Other Shops around this point.
"By the way Natasha, I couldn't manage to find you on Facebook- you do spell it the normal way, don't you?"
Damn.
"Oh- yes. You know it's funny, people have told me I'm not easy to find on Facebook before." (True). "Why don't you give me your last name and I could look you up?"
"Good idea!"
I was, in the end, saved by my cluttered Mary Poppins/ TARDIS technology bag, as I couldn't find a pen or paper, and the guy said he'd try again and see if he could find my name on the company's Facebook page. Which is unlikely, as I haven't posted there before.
"We could browse around the shops together- what are you looking for today?"
Oh, hell no.
"Er, you know what, I'm sort of funny about doing my shopping with people," (panic mode engaged, lame excuse activated) "and I should be getting back to work soon anyway. But I'm sure I'll see you around soon!"
"Alright, I'll see you around!"
I spent the remaining half hour of my lunch break dodging him and looking over my shoulder until I saw him go- which was quite a good amount of time. Apparently it takes half an hour to buy one small container of cod liver oil.
One thing's for sure though, it's given me enough time to confirm (to my relief) that it's not about trust issues; I'm just genuinely not interested.
However, that doesn't dig me out of the muddy pit of Awkward Situation I'm now in.
To be continued?
Friday, 28 September 2012
More Potential Unwanted Attention
Today I have decided that either I need a new job in another location, or possibly a face transplant. Or I just have to go out at lunchtime with other colleagues, or don some sort of disguise. Here's why.
One day I was walking down the street from work at lunch time when I walked past this guy going in the opposite direction, and sort of noticed in my peripheral vision that he had sort of stopped and was dithering a bit. Feeling sort of nervous (because I was about to stop by the cash machine) but knowing I was just being a bit paranoid, I squared up a bit and made myself alert, but carried on with what I was doing.
He'd vanished when I'd got to the cash machine, at which point I relaxed a bit- but as soon as I was done and walking away from the cash machine, he appeared out of nowhere and approached me. I needn't have worried though as he turned out to be nice enough (and probably hung back on purpose when I went to the cash machine so I wouldn't freak out too much, now that I think about it).
"Sorry to bother you, but do you work at the head offices up the road?" He asked. I blinked, and mentally kicked myself into friendly social mode, smiling.
"Yes that's right, at _____. Why d'you ask?"
"Oh, I have a friend that works there, I wonder if you know him?"
And so we got talking. It turns out he lives locally and actually works at one of the shops I sometimes go to at lunch time, and I've been bumping into him on the street or in those shops since.
I'm no egotist- in fact I still have a little bit of 'ex fat girl' syndrome, where I can't believe anyone would look twice at me. On the other hand, no-one approaches a stranger in the street just like that without having an ulterior motive (harmless or no), so I made sure I remained politely friendly and pleasant but not overly so during our encounters.
Recently though I've not been going out as much as I've had a lot to get through, so I've been staying in to work at lunch. Today I allowed myself a trip out to stretch my legs, and I bumped into him again- so we chatted for a bit. After a little while he paused and suddenly said, all confidence,
"I don't want to keep you, you're obviously really busy, but you know I wouldn't mind giving you my number if you wanted. I'd like to talk to you more often."
My brain broke a bit. Between my trying hard not to get in this situation in the first place, being asked out just a little while back by someone else and being pretty sure the usual request is to have the girl's number rather than offering it- although maybe the other way round is actually better, I was inwardly flummoxed. Thankfully outwardly I didn't show any of my inner turmoil.
My brain scrambled into action, learning from the last time to be respectful but to the point.
"You know, I'd really like that, as friends. Just so you know and so I'm not messing you about or anything, I'm not really interested in being in a relationship right now."
He nodded earnestly. "Sure, as friends."
And then, meaning to further solidify my stance, I put my foot in it.
"Yeah, I'm sort of recently out of a relationship..."
His face lit up a bit. "Really?"
DAMMIT! Crush his hopes and dreams Tash, crush them now!
"Er, anyway, look me up on Facebook, I'm on it as unhealthily regularly as everyone," I flustered.
As he cheerily waved me on my way, I got halfway down the road before I- I'm invisible on Facebook. The poor guy's going to think I gave him a dud name or something.
And that is why I'm going to have to change jobs or get a face transplant.
~Fin~
Afterword: That's the second time I've rebuffed someone in the last two months. I may need to take a good look at myself and find out if it really is because I'm too busy enjoying the single life (which I know at least is definitely partially true), or if I've developed a few trust issues from the last relationshipbomb. Oh dear.
To be continued?
One day I was walking down the street from work at lunch time when I walked past this guy going in the opposite direction, and sort of noticed in my peripheral vision that he had sort of stopped and was dithering a bit. Feeling sort of nervous (because I was about to stop by the cash machine) but knowing I was just being a bit paranoid, I squared up a bit and made myself alert, but carried on with what I was doing.
He'd vanished when I'd got to the cash machine, at which point I relaxed a bit- but as soon as I was done and walking away from the cash machine, he appeared out of nowhere and approached me. I needn't have worried though as he turned out to be nice enough (and probably hung back on purpose when I went to the cash machine so I wouldn't freak out too much, now that I think about it).
"Sorry to bother you, but do you work at the head offices up the road?" He asked. I blinked, and mentally kicked myself into friendly social mode, smiling.
"Yes that's right, at _____. Why d'you ask?"
"Oh, I have a friend that works there, I wonder if you know him?"
And so we got talking. It turns out he lives locally and actually works at one of the shops I sometimes go to at lunch time, and I've been bumping into him on the street or in those shops since.
I'm no egotist- in fact I still have a little bit of 'ex fat girl' syndrome, where I can't believe anyone would look twice at me. On the other hand, no-one approaches a stranger in the street just like that without having an ulterior motive (harmless or no), so I made sure I remained politely friendly and pleasant but not overly so during our encounters.
Recently though I've not been going out as much as I've had a lot to get through, so I've been staying in to work at lunch. Today I allowed myself a trip out to stretch my legs, and I bumped into him again- so we chatted for a bit. After a little while he paused and suddenly said, all confidence,
"I don't want to keep you, you're obviously really busy, but you know I wouldn't mind giving you my number if you wanted. I'd like to talk to you more often."
My brain broke a bit. Between my trying hard not to get in this situation in the first place, being asked out just a little while back by someone else and being pretty sure the usual request is to have the girl's number rather than offering it- although maybe the other way round is actually better, I was inwardly flummoxed. Thankfully outwardly I didn't show any of my inner turmoil.
My brain scrambled into action, learning from the last time to be respectful but to the point.
"You know, I'd really like that, as friends. Just so you know and so I'm not messing you about or anything, I'm not really interested in being in a relationship right now."
He nodded earnestly. "Sure, as friends."
And then, meaning to further solidify my stance, I put my foot in it.
"Yeah, I'm sort of recently out of a relationship..."
His face lit up a bit. "Really?"
DAMMIT! Crush his hopes and dreams Tash, crush them now!
"Er, anyway, look me up on Facebook, I'm on it as unhealthily regularly as everyone," I flustered.
As he cheerily waved me on my way, I got halfway down the road before I- I'm invisible on Facebook. The poor guy's going to think I gave him a dud name or something.
And that is why I'm going to have to change jobs or get a face transplant.
~Fin~
Afterword: That's the second time I've rebuffed someone in the last two months. I may need to take a good look at myself and find out if it really is because I'm too busy enjoying the single life (which I know at least is definitely partially true), or if I've developed a few trust issues from the last relationshipbomb. Oh dear.
To be continued?
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