Monday, July 7, 2008

We only get one...

I don't know if everyone knows this but... I work in a relatively ghetto kind of place. I mean, we're no tenderloin or east palo alto or anything... But there's a fair share of skeeves out in this part of Daly City.

In my mind Daly City is made up of asian FOBs, wannabe thug kids, crack heads who smoke right outside our door, and Teen moms that make their poor little kids pee on walls in public. This may be an unfair assumption for ALL of daly city but the neighborhood our office is in? It's all too true.

And I consider myself a relatively conservative dresser, especially for work. I admit, sometimes my shirts are lower than they need to be but I would never consider myself showy or slutty or provocative. My skirts are all knee length or lower, after all.

And honestly, while I have the vanity and confidence to know that I'm not drop dead ugly and, depending on the observer could easily be considered attractive (rather than unattractive).

All of this together means that I somehow get constantly checked out at work. And NOT in the way thats complimentary. In the grossest way possible. Just thinking about it my face cringes with disgust. Old men that go to the liquor store next door at 9 in the morning will do a full 360 to watch me walk by. Crackheads whistle as I leave my car. Stock boys from teh grocery store next door make beckoning lip snaps at me.

Once this relatively young guy, maybe like 15 - 17, walked by the office door, saw me, and literally seriously walked in. How awkward and strange is that? He opens the office door into our reception area, looks around confusedly like he's entered some sort of twilight universe where everyone is dressed in slacks and button up shirts, and goes, "uhmm... .. .. . . . hey...." To which I give my best disdainful eyebrow cocked and ask "Yes? May I help you?" And he proceeds to ask if I have a boyfriend. bleeecccchhhhh.

Gross fest.

And you may be wondering, what prompts this blog here and now? We've got a lot of construction guys that work for us to fix homes, renovate, install various marbles, carpets, plumbing, and electric. All of these guys used to be close family friends that would never dare to look at me like that.

But since they've gone we have an ever changing line up of guys coming in to get paid, look for supplies, or plug various drills in... And this sign guy just came in. With a name like Wesley.

And he DEVOURED me with his eyes. I did my best to ignore it but I just got so flustered. And then he asks how old I am. He's actually not that bad looking and not horribly gross and old, so if anything this is the biggest complimentary check out i've gotten, but still, disarming nonetheless. I don't know how old I am! Uhm... 21?

"Wow, you're 21? that old, huh?"

(awkward laugh from me.)

(obvious check out and like, jaw/lip/tounge movement) "How many boyfriends you got?" (complete with head tilt like 'sup' and bared animal teeth)

And me, the idiot that I am, turn red (it happens to brown people too), look around nervously, slam my brain for the appropriate answer and say "Not enough." The MOST inapproproate answer, in fact.

Panic sets in, "no, well, I mean, enough. I have more than enough."

doh.

He finishes his business in regards to electrical cords and hours and signs, and leaves, with a departing look of beastliness.

The real point of all of this, is, is it so bad to expect that all sexual personalities be checked at the work door? Am I naive to hope that once in the office place, with my work face on, that no one will make skeevy faces and innuendo and off hand looks? That no one will ask how many boyfriends I have so I can get SO caught off gaurd and flustered as to give the completely wrong answer.

I have one, by the way. One and only one.

Is that really so much to ask?

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