All I wanted to do was pick up my film.
The photo store closed at 6, I made it there at 5:30. When I go to ask about my film, I get the guy I like. He reminds me of Steven Spielberg.
There is another customer in the store, male in his late 40’s or early 50’s. He’s loud and prattling on about some shit and wearing one of those striped polos thats supposed to make a man look important and rich, but only ends up making them look like an ass.
As Steven Spielberg is getting my film, I can tell this guy wants to talk to me. You know when someone keeps looking at you while talking to someone else, hoping that you’ll look up and be drawn into the conversation? Well I didn’t want to be drawn in. I had a long day, I was tired and hungry, and just wanted to go home. Steven Spielberg comes back with my film. He sees my phone number on the order form and comments on the fact that its not local, so I tell him its a North Carolina number.
The other customer finishes with his order and walks towards me. He starts talking about accents and my lack of one and then proceeds to lean heavily on the counter with his elbow, as if he intends to be there for awhile. No fucking way.
In fact you have a better chance of Pamela Anderson coming in announcing she’s an alien, and asking you to come back to her home planet where she’ll have to have sex with you repeatedly to ensure the survival of her civilization. I’m about to head home and don’t want to deal with you and whatever comment you’ll make which I’m sure will be the funniest and smartest thing I’ve ever heard.
This is how our conversation went. Pretty much word for word:
Him: Well you don’t have much of an accent do you?
Me: Huh. Guess not.
Him: I love accents, don’t you? There’s just something about them. There was this girl in high school, Lisa, who had the best accent ever. Seriously, I could have listened to her all day long. Something about the way she talked! I just wanted to hand her a phone book and ask her to read the first 50 pages. I mean, that would have been my dream!
Me: Well…thats okay, if you’re into that kind of thing.
Him: Oh ha! I was just kidding. Thats funny. No, I would never do that. So…what kind of accent do you like? I mean, what is your absolute favorite accent? I mean if you could pick any accent and listen to it what would it be? What peaks your interest?
(I think he was expecting something a little more exotic)
Him: Wow, really? Oh wow. Thats interesting. Chicago huh? Windy City. So what do you like about it?
Him: Yeah? Everything? I mean, thats great. Thats cool. Its a distinctive accent. So do you like the city or the accent more? Is it the people and the culture, or just the way they sound?
(Where is Steven with my film? I should have paid and left by now)
Him: Huh. Thats so interesting. Hah, so you’re telling me that if you could, you’d have the hottest guy ever read you the first 50 pages from a phone book in a Chicago accent? I mean, thats what you’d like?
(What is it with him and phonebooks??? Who the fuck says that??)
Me: Well, like I said before, I’m not really into that kind of thing…
Him: No of course not! Me either. Just joking. So when did you move here? I mean, has it been long? Are you in school? What made you come here? What is your favorite…
This went on, him asking me about what I liked in the area and me giving him one word answers, until FINALLY he gets a hint and leaves.
I turn to Steven Spielberg and he calmly tells me it’ll be $5.50 for my film.
“Where were you ten minutes ago?” I ask him.
He says with a chuckle “I wanted to see what was going to happen.”
He and the other employee start laughing and tell me that the guy comes in a lot and, if I couldn’t tell already, he’s recently divorced. Can’t imagine why.
Who the fuck reads phone books, or wants a phone book read to them?? That is NOT a good pick up line or conversation starter! In fact, thats a sure fire way to end any chance of conversation you had with me.