Here’s what I don’t get. There is absolutely nothing in my body makeup, style, weight, or height….nothing in my hair, feet, nose or ears….nothing in my demeanor, my stature, my posture or my composure….NOTHING. NOTHING that screams to the world ‘Hey, this is Tim and I want to hear what you’re thinking!!! Come on over and sidle up next to me and have a little small-talk’. My friends know this about me, my family DEFINITELY knows this about me – why can’t random strangers see this, know this and respect this?
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not necessarily PROUD of this quality. I manage to keep this social disorder to myself for the most part and allow my inner sunshine to burst out of my chest 23.5 hours of the day. I’m taking medicine for it and hope someday to figure out what the pills are that I’m actually taking for it. I think they are blood-thinners. Or tranquilizers. Or anti-diarrheal. One of those. Ok, I’m not taking medicine for it at all. This personality ‘quirk’ is here to stay and it’s only going to get worse as I get older.
Anyway, I have been approached by strangers apparently wanting to chat with me three times in the past couple of weeks and I’m officially starting a new Facebook Group – “The Disturbance Of my Neuro-Transmitters by Chatty and Annoying Racially-diverse Entities “ – or “DONT CARE” for you acronym lovers. These three events in order of their awkwardness and annoyance to me, your DONT CARE spokesperson, are detailed herewith:
I was in Target definitely NOT wearing a red shirt – the universal symbol of Target workers – minding my own business. I think I was actually shopping for trinkets to send to the starving children of Africa or something to be exact. I noticed this creeper woman, about my age and my ilk, slowly moving towards me and looking at me out of the corner of her eye. I naturally assumed that she was just checking me out and thinking what a fine, outstanding example of a man I am. I always assume that and have not once been correct, by the way. She finally gets up the nerve to pronounce her undying love for me and says very quietly, “Do you work here?” I naturally take umbrage, no…I take GREAT umbrage and gruffly say ‘No’ and walk away. That’s what you get when you bug a DONT CARE member. And apparently I now have taken on the look of a Target worker. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.
So a few days later I’m in another favorite location of mine – Costco. I’m standing there looking at some nifty clock radios. Another sidler. Sidles right up beside me. Older guy (late 50’s), baseball hat, jacket. Your typical mass murderer. He looks at the display NEXT to what I’m looking at – which I believe were a new type of cell phone – and says to me “Someday I’ll have to figure out how to use one of those”. ?
What does that even mean? I chuckled knowingly (as I’m want to do) and said ‘Yep….’ and left it at that. He obviously wanted to start a longer discussion with me and I was having none of it. Why would he go up to a random good-looking guy and just willy-nilly start with the small-talk? What is WRONG with people?
The coup de grace (or coup d’etat depending on the coup you prefer) was recently when I was playing golf. Three of us were out there hacking it around and were on the green when I noticed an older guy walking slowly around. He was hunched over, wearing a baseball cap as well (a possible trend with DONT CARE offenders????) and was walking so slowly that the Earth was turning faster than him, causing him to actually have to walk backwards to make progress. But that was fine – there’s a walking path there and it’s a free country.
He stops and watches while my first buddy putts. Fine. Slowly, almost imperceptibly he moves forward as the other two of us line up our putts. By the time we hit, he is ON the green, moved over by us and looking down at the putt as we’re lined up! Literally bending over to see what’s going to happen. I can’t even begin to tell you how much we were weirded out by the whole thing. Much less the creepy chortle he made as I missed my putt with him literally breathing down my neck. We picked up our crap and got the heck out of there. He followed, but the speed with which he followed allowed for ample roomage. I frankly don’t know if he wanted to discuss things with us, or if he was secretly scouting our golf game from 3 inches away – but he is DONT CARE Offender #121 if you want to look him up on the official DONT CARE website.
I’ll continue to report on incidents as they occur. In addition, we’ll discuss everyone’s awkward encounters at the normal First Wednesday meeting of the DONT CARE support group held at IHOPs nationwide.