Honest Conversation Is Overrated
Actual Human Interactions Witnessed Or Overheard
In Twentieth And Twenty-First Century America
In Twentieth And Twenty-First Century America
I'm sorry to announce that our store is not participating in National Stand In The Middle Of The Store, Yakking On Your Cell For An Hour Even Though You Have No Intention Of Buying Anything Day. Might I suggest taking your non-business and your conversation about What It's Like To Be A Harvard Grad to a Best Buy in the suburbs where that sort of topic is considered important or, at least, interesting?
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Today is both National Donut Day *AND* National Hug Your Cat Day.
You know what that means, right? We have too many fake-ass holidays in this country. My mom just texted me "May The Fourth be with you." along with a recipe for Darth Vader cookies.
The "holiday" has officially jumped the left shark. ---------------------------------------------------------------- I almost posted my confusion about how she even knew I was interested in Star Wars because, apparently, I forgot the Return Of The Jedi sleeping bag she bought me, and the millenium falcon she bought me, and all the action figures she bought me, and the collectible Return Of The Jedi glasses we got from what was probably McDonald's, and the fact that the only reason I saw those movies is because she and/or my dad took me to them, and that she knows that I work in a comic book store, It's like I don't even know me. My Dad: "Ok. Mr. Boston, time to watch Cheers."
Me: "Mr. Boston? I live in Cambridge." My Dad: "But you go to that Cheers bar." Me: "No I don't." My Dad: "You've never been there?" Me: "I don't think so. Maybe? Once?" My Dad: "People from Boston don't go to The Cheers all the time?" Me: "Are you going senile, dad? Do you go to The Jaws Beach all the time?" My Dad: "So that's a no?" Me: "No." But now we're watching Cheers.You know, like people from Boston do. My father likes to impress me by his ability to predict what is going to happen in a TV show that came out fifty years ago, that he has probably seen three or four times a year for the last decade. In this way, he is like his mother who tries to impress me with her predictions about Law & Order reruns.
The only difference is that my grandmother is always wrong and my dad is right about 60% of the time. "You know how all of those people are getting on that giant, fancy boat? I bet it's going to sink." "But, dad, The Titanic is unsinkable!" The following is a series of Facebook Statuses made from a bus, and then a boat, as I made my way from my current home of Cambridge to the place of my ancestral homeland, Martha's Vineyard.
--------------------------------------------- I apologize to the people whose seat is so far back I can taste their shoulderblades because the entire bus must unite to battle the insane woman tunelessly mumbling the lyrics to Christmas Carols loud enough that I can hear her through my headphones. --------------------------------------------- Oh no, insane mumbling woman and person tunelessly relaying Christmas lyrics are two different people AND THEY ARE BECOMING LOUD FRIENDS. --------------------------------------------- "ARE YOU IN A BAND?" "NO, I CAN"T FIND ANYONE AS COMMITTED AS I AM." "I HATE IT WHEN PEOPLE DON'T COMMIT TO THINGS. DO YOU LIKE NEW YORK?" "I HAVE NEVER BEEN TO NEW YORK." "YOU SHOULD GO. THAT'S WHERE ALL THE PEOPLE WITH MUSIC GO." "REALLY?" "YEA. OH MY GOD. YOU'RE SO YOUNG. YOU'RE SO BEAUTIFUL. YOU HAVE SUCH A GREAT VOICE." I wish my seat back went back about three rows. ------------------------------------------------------- The loud peoples' names are Karen and Tray, in case you were wondering. And I know you were. ------------------------------------------------------- "AM I BEING TOO LOUD?" "YOU SHOULDA TOLD ME." "I DON'T CARE. ASSHOLE. SORRY. AM I BEING TOO LOUD? WATCH OUT WILD DRIVER. HAHA. SORRY, AM I BEING TOO LOUD? I'M SORRY. YOU DIDN'T DESERVE THAT. I'M SORRY. SORRY. I DON'T MEAN TO BE SO LOUD. AM I BEING LOUD?" -------------------------------------------------------- Tray, the Christmas Carol warbler has grown completely silent, realizing he has lost the title of Craziest Person On The Bus. -------------------------------------------------------- Tray gets off the bus in Bourne. Karen starts to follow him off before realizing that she has no idea where she is. "HOW LONG UNTIL WE GET TO BOSTON?" I stare blankly at her. "HOW. LONG. UNTIL. BOSTON?" I feign concern. "Pardon?" "BOSTON? CHRIST. WHEN DO WE GET TO BOSTON." We, of course, departed from Boston about an hour previous. "Je suis desole. Je ne parle pas Anglais." "KEY-RIST. WHAT'S THE MATTER WITH YOU? WHEN BOSTON?" "I sorry. I no speak good English." I shrug. "WHEN THE--" Mr. Seatback says, "He doesn't speak English. We're not going to Boston. We're coming FROM Boston. We're going to Woods Hole." "OH RIGHT. I MUST HAVE FALLEN ASLEEP AND THE BUS IS GOING THE OTHER WAY NOW." Karen says. She is wrong. She got on just after me at South Station. Mrs. Seatback asks "Could you lower your voice, please? We're in an enclosed space. There is no need to shout." "SORRY. I MUST HAVE FALLEN ASLEEP. WHEN DO WE GET TO BOSTON?" Mr. Seatback sighs. "In an hour. Go back to sleep." "FUCK YOU, ASSHOLE. SORRY, SORRY. YOU DIDN'T DESERVE THAT." Then Karen goes and sits back down, occasionally muttering to herself for the duration of the trip. In Woods Hole, I make sure to put at least two people between me and Karen, so that when she inevitably stumbles into someone, "I'M SORRY. YOU DIDN'T DESERVE THAT. THE BUS SWERVED. IT SWERVED." It's parked. "I'M SORRY." I'm not the one she's stumbling into. I move fast enough that there's no line to get my tickets to the ferry. Mr. and Mrs. Seatback walk to the also lineless window next to mine. I ask, "Could I have a round trip to The Vineyard please?" Mrs. Seatback's eyes balloon. "Sure thing. That'll be sixteen dollars." The guy behind the window says. "Thank you so much. Have a Happy Holiday." I say. "I think you mean A MERRY CHRISTMAS." Mr. Seatback says. "I don't think I do." I say. "But then again, my English isn't very good." ---------------------------------------------------------------------- For those concerned that I am mocking Karen for being mentally deficient, I should point out that she didn't appear to be mentally disabled, but you could smell the gin on her breath from the Mars Rover. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Karen just ran a full loop around the ferry following some poor steamship authority employee. I'm not quite motivated enough to find out what's going on in this part of her Soap Opera. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- She's back! "IS THE BOAT GOING THAT WAY?" She points to the front of the boat. "Sorry. No English." She sits down a few rows away. "WHERE ARE WE GOING NOW?" ---------------------------------------------------------------------- She also just tried to buy a drink from the very friendly guy behind the counter. She was not served. "WHY CAN'T I HAVE ANOTHER BEER." She, of course, has not had a beer since at least getting on the bus nearly three hours ago. "We're not serving anymore." The guy says. "But I AM about to play a very naughty Christmas Carol." "WHY AREN'T YOU SERVING ANYMORE? I'M SORRY. I DON'T MEAN TO BE NOSEY BUT FUCK I WANT A BEER." ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Mr. Seatback, who I had not seen since getting on the boat just kept her from walking out to the open deck, probably saving her drunk life. I guess he's not all bad. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- "IT IS SO WINDY IN HERE!" Karen says, though we are in an enclosed part of the ferry. I mean, Mr. Seatback has been sighing a lot but I don't think it's enough to be called "windy". ----------------------------------------------------------------------- I got caught breaking character on my way off the boat. She was standing between me and the exit and she said "JUST GO AROUND. GO AROUND ME." And I said. "Thank you." And she looked bewildered but didn't say anything. Also, if you had two and a half minutes in the "How long before Adam's dad says something racist about Ferguson" then congratulations you win the deep foreboding sense of decay in American society. I did a Google Image Search for "destroyed Christmas room", hoping for pictures of torn wrapping paper and a crashed tree and general "fun" chaos. Instead, it's all pictures of houses ravaged by fire around the holidays.
Thanks for bumming me out, Google. Me: Thank you for calling Comic Book Store. How may I help you?
Other Person On Phone: Oh no. Me: Hello? OPOP: This isn’t *Coworker’s Name*, is it? Me: No, *Customer’s Name*. He only works on Wednesday. OPOP: Oh, Adam. It’s not Wednesday, that’s right. It’s Tuesday. Me: It’s Thursday. Silence. OPOP: Oh, no. Me: Is everything ok? OPOP: I just took my garbage outside. Silence. OPOP: Is Halloween a national holiday? Me: It doesn’t affect garbage day, or bank hours or anything, no. OPOP: So I should be fine putting my garbage out, like it’s any other Tuesday. Me: It’s Thursday. OPOP: Oh, no. Me: Do you have any comics related questions for me? OPOP: No. Thank you. The Cable Guy Said "If You Wanted To Watch TV So Bad, You Should Have Crashed At My Place"2/19/2013 President’s Day has been very busy at the store. Having no time to go out and get lunch, I ordered in. Forty-five minutes later, my phone rings. “Hi. Did you order Chinese food?”
Me: “Yes.” Guy: “I’m around the corner.” Me: “I can’t leave the store.” Guy: “I can’t come in. Very busy.” Me: “I ordered food delivered because the store is busy, and I can’t leave the store.” Guy: “I, too, very busy.” Me: “Yes, but my job is to be in one place so people can buy things from me, your job is to bring people things.” Guy: “Can’t —” Me: “I don’t have time to discuss this. Please just bring me the food I ordered.” He ended up driving up to the front of the store and I politely asked the regular customer who was looking for Vertigo books not to steal anything while I ran to the front door and grabbed my food. It was not what I ordered. But I ate it. I mistakenly got into work a half hour early. The phone was already ringing.
Guy On Phone: Oh, good! You’re open. Me: Not yet. We open at eleven. Is there anything I can help you with? GoP: Why did you answer the phone if you’re not open? Me: Is there anything I can help you with? GoP: I’m looking for the Bob Dylan graphic novel. Me: Hold on. (I check, and we don’t appear to have it.) I’m sorry. It doesn’t look like we have it in. GoP: People have told me that before and they’ve been wrong. Me: That sounds frustrating. You’re welcome to come in at eleven and check for yourself. GoP: Oh, I can’t come in today. I live in Connecticut. Do you have New England Comics’ number? Me: Sure. But they are also not in Connecticut. Him: YES THEY ARE. THEY’RE CALLED NEW ENGLAND COMICS FOR A REASON. Me: Sure thing, buddy. Have a Happy Father’s Day. (New England Comics has eight stunning locations, five of them in Greater Boston, all of them in Massachusetts.) |
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