Tuesday, January 28, 2014

"How's your commute" Guy Makes the Blog

For those of you who I don’t talk to on a social basis, there’s an older gent at who had been inquiring about my commute to and from work on a frequent basis.  Just to give you an idea of what he looks like he does occasionally die his "I'm in my 60's white hair".  More or less every time he saw me in the halls he’d ask, “How’s your commute?” At one point he insisted he was moving out this way so that was the reason for the inquisition.  Honestly three years of the same question was getting old.  Now today, he was in the neighborhood  and actually stopped by my desk to not ask me about my commute, but this time, it was about the time it takes. I politely told him, “With my foot, about (insert estimated time) minutes.” “Oh but you get here really early.” “Um yeah I do. Trust me, not sitting in traffic does wonders for your attitude.”  I know to those of your reading this it sounds boring, but to me, he was invading my ‘dance’ space.  You know, he was the fruit fly you couldn’t find to kill, although every time you go in the kitchen you see it.  He continues to tell me he was dating someone in the town that I presently live in (how did that even enter into the non-existent conversation), how interesting the people are, how he frequents this one restaurant (so now I know never to go there on the weekends).  I tried to acknowledge him politely as I put my coat on because it was my quitting time “Good for you, “ “You mean the amount of people that have teeth and those that don’t, “ “I really hang out in NJ more than I do in PA but thanks for the recommendation.”  I couldn’t get away fast enough.  To top it off he weaseled his way in scoping out the pictures on my desk and asked, “Is that your son?” as he pointed to the one picture of my nephew and myself (hence why I only post and display pictures of him with me in public).  Now I was ready to leave and my sarcastic response scale was getting up there, “No, that’s my nephew.” “Oh he’s cute, he looks like he could be yours.” “Thanks, I can always borrow him if I ever need to show up to a party with a child.” 

Unfortunately I forgot how I got out of this inquisition, you know how did it end, how did I sneak out? But fortunately I thought about writing this the entire time on my ride home because I haven’t written anything about annoying-hows-your-commute guy who will never see this anyway.  Perhaps at the next bbq I’ll show up with my ‘son’ and just confuse everyone!  

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