batmanisagatewaydrug:

batmanisagatewaydrug:

batmanisagatewaydrug:

old men need to stop acting like women in customer service positions are obligated to find them funny

so I’m sitting up the register, reading a book (y’all read Sharp Objects, by Gillian Flynn? it’s good) when this man (white, elderly) comes up to pay for his food. I set my book down to, you know, do my job.

“wake up,” he tells me. 

“I am awake,” I say, because I pretty demonstrably am. that’s not always the case, I’ll freely admit that – my coworkers and I spend a lot of time yawning at the register. people have, rightly, called me out for looking exhausted, but this was not one of those times. this is a baffling comment he’s made. 

“I like to give cashiers a hard time,” he tells me. this man has very intense eyes, staring right into me. I have no idea where I’m supposed to be looking.

“uh-huh,” I say, because there’s honestly not much else to say.

“not everyone has a sense of humor about it.” he’s still staring at me. this man has the widest, wettest eyes I’ve ever seen and I’m not sure he blinks. he could not more obviously be implying that he is talking about me and that I am the problem here –

“unfortunately,” he adds darkly.

well. apparently it could be more obvious.

I tell him his total and try to figure out where I’m supposed to turn my eyes while he digs out his money. it takes awhile, because he’s still leering at me instead of actually looking at his money.

“you seem nervous,” he says.

“I’m fine,” I tell him, because the only way to make this worse would be to tell him that I am in fact nervous and listen to him explain to me why I’m wrong.

“it seems like I’ve offended you,” he says, because people like him never just let things go.

“I’m fine,” I say again, because I have to be fine, because a lot of life and all of customer service is being Fine™ even when you’re absolutely totally not at all fine.

and that’s it! of course there’s no satisfying conclusion this narrative, this isn’t 2014 tumblr and I’m not going to pretend I lectured him about being creepy and then my manager dropkicked him in the neck and all the other customers in line clapped. I just moved on as fast as I could and rang up the next person’s sandwich or overpriced doritos or whatever. and that’s it! that’s just as good as it gets, just shuffling onto the next customer and hoping they’re less of a metric weirdo.

it’s this guy and it’s every guy who’s ever acted like I’m the problem because he’s not funny and every guy who assumes I want to talk to him at the bus stop when I’ve wearing headphones and reading a book and trying to communicate in every way I know that I don’t want to talk to you.

whether I’m on the clock or not, sure, I do owe you basic decency! you’re a person! I’ll be polite! if you have a question I’ll answer it! but jesus f u c k, men who aren’t funny or interesting need to stop expecting me to act like they are. 

god and it’s always so obvious what a violation of the normal social script it is to not laugh at the stupid-ass shit men say.

also at work, like a week back, this guy who had BARE MINIMUM 15 years on me asked how old the coffee was, and while I took all of a few second to try and remember, he added on, “how old are you?”

and something inside me very quietly and peacefully snapped.

and I ask him, without a lick of humor on my hideous goblin mug, “is that relevant?”

and he chuckles a little nervously and says, “it was a joke.”

and the (unfortunate?) woman who was accompanying him says “it was a bad joke” and I nod. in total agreement and solidarity with this woman. and leave this fool to find out for himself if the coffee was cold, because I have no sympathy for him in my soul and I want him for once in his life to be the one who’s uncomfortable with his weird shitty attempts at humor.