Insensitive to Identification


The Tutor and I were talking earlier tonight.   We were chattering along about this and that.  Along the conversational road she tells me a story about her friend Stan.   I have actually met Stan once.  Stan was adorable and smart and funny and very gay.   Which is where I’m going with this.  See, what The Tutor said was that until like pretty recently..say the last year, Stan hadn’t ever hooked up with anyone.  I was immediately like “….wait.  how does someone be gay if they don’t ..you know..  BE GAY?”
Poor Stan.  3 or 4 years ago, The Tutor told me that, too, that he had been unaware of the existence of Depeche Mode.  I don’t even remember how that came up in the conversation. But I found that quite disturbing, to say the least.  In fact I went so far as to say  “….He needs to keep that to himself.  If the wrong people find that out, they won’t let him continue to be gay.”

 

Stan isn’t the only one who has suffered.  When I moved into this apartment, I was actually just moving from a different apartment in the same complex. So for the smaller stuff, I just made my friends help.   That crowd of friends was almost exclusively gay.  And they had enlisted a bit of extra help. So one guy, a friend of my friend, I had met him a few times, I don’t remember his name, actually to change it so we’re going to call him Bill.  He had asked me what he could do to help and I said that I really needed the hanging clothes moved.

So he agreed to move them and he’s lugging them out of my closet in that bedroom downstairs to his car.  I will admit I have a lot.  And I happen to wander by and he’s just kind of hunching them along and I see a blouse off the hanger…just kind of tangled up and being dragged along the ground in his wake.

I scoop up the blouse and proceed to start beating him with it.  I was also yelling and berating him for his lack of skill with hanging clothes “YOU KNOW – If i told someone about this shit, you’d be done being gay. FOREVER.”   The best part is, the look of terror on his face, I might have been right?

My last example of my blurted assholishness:  When I was still doing the fast food gig, I had the most awesome guy working for me in my kitchen.  He was amazing.   He actually was kind of in the crowd I ran with.  I don’t remember now how he ended up working there but I seem to remember it was a  bad scene and he needed a job.  Nothing wrong with that, I just said I had been working there for the same reason.

So one Friday night, he was not scheduled to close because he had requested to be scheduled early.  He was supposed to be off work at like 10.  He was busting ass like a mad man doing the “chores” type work that was part of the 10 PM’s person’s duties.  I knew immediately that it was because he wanted off early.  Since we were not terribly busy, I actually had no problem with cutting my labor a little, in fact, I probably was going to need to anyway.

I was sat doing some paperwork in the lobby with the spare headset on so I could listen to make sure my idiots in the front did not screw up too badly.  As I had foreseen, about 8 PM, he comes rolling up to my table to tell me that he had done all the cleaning, in fact, he had done a few of the closing cleaning jobs to give them a hand ..and since it wasn’t busy at all, did I think it might be possible for him to leave like… now or at least soon?

I asked him if he had taken a break ..he said “no. that was going to be the next bargaining point.”  I told him “just hang on a sec. Lemme go check your work.” Yeah. learned my lesson early on: CHECK THAT SHIT.  Everything was fine, as I had halfway expected, so I strolled back to my seat and told him “I suppose you want a FREE break?”   “I was hoping, yeah…”   “Ok. tell you what:  mop the stock room so I’ll be a bit ahead of my shit for tomorrow night and then you can grab a meal on your way out.”   “SERIOUSLY? I CAN GO NOW?”  “yeah. mop the stock room and we’ll be straight.”

I had made my statement and my attention had immediately focused back to whatever I was doing on the paper in front of me. In fact, it took a second to focus back when I heard “uh…. then I’m NEVER touching that mop.”

It was like.. stop working, lift my head in slow motion, and stare a second before it all processed and I started laughing fit to die.  “Yeah .. just go mop the fucking floor.”  I think we both started every time we looked at each other until he found a different job and left.

 

 

 

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~ by Layla on October 15, 2012.

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