So earlier this week I was leaving the parking ramp after work. I roll the window down once I get to the gate, put my ticket in, put the credit card in and the gate swings up. Now, if you're familiar with contraptions in parking ramps like these, this is the point in time where you can get a receipt printed. I want one every single time so I can keep track of what I spend in cash or charge to my credit card. All you have to do is press a button.
This happens ... well, it doesn't happen all the time for me, which is a problem. The stand-up pay kiosks at the bottom of the ramp, the ones where you have to race to your car to leave because those tickets only give you 15 minutes to leave, they give me receipts without incident. But not this time. And after I pressed the button to get once, then again, then again and again and again, I just started slamming the button. Then I blurted out, because I kind of was thinking no one else was around me, "Why won't you give me a receipt?!?!"
Right on cue a guy in a tie walks across the ramp, looking at me, looking forward, then looking at me again. Oh, shoot. And then I hear a car coming up to the gate beside me.
Did they hear me?
Should I even ask that question?
Do they think I'm weird?
I don't want to give a shit, but ever since my predecessor told me that I come off weird I've been totally self-conscious about what I say. Well, not enough to stop, but I do it and then I wonder.
You know, I really don't want to give a flying fuck about how I appear to others. I just want to be me, and if people are OK with that, I love them, and if they don't, well, they can pound sand, if that's an insult that's going to sting. What the fuck ever.
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