When Hello is Just Hello

I like instant gratification. I like getting in my car, with the kids or all alone, and going somewhere besides "work" to do stuff and more importantly, to buy stuff...for me...and, if I have to, the other people in my family.

So, the cold winter's Saturday morn, when the wife was asking, "What are you gonna do today?" while I was still in my jammies with one hand in the waistband and one hand on my coffee, all I could say was, "This is it."

Shaking her head she mentioned the dumpster I'm supposed to be filling up with collapsed barn out back. I listened to the wind howling outside. But then she slipped, she messed up and gave me an easy out. "Or...you could get that entertainment center."

And of course that was that. I knew what I could do without having to go outside all day...but that's not the weird part.

The "entertainment center" was in a "Thrift Store"...I think that's the name of it. It's either that or "Consignment Shop", whatever, it doesn't matter. Heck, there are two, like-minded stores side by side, and both are full of wonderfully cheap, second-hand stuff. And the closer-to-me one had brand-new, in the box, entertainment centers. 

So that's what I got. And two speakers. But that's not really what I left with, I mean, that's not what I've been thinking about for three days.

While I was there wandering around, adding things up, measuring up end tables and coffee tables for fit and figure, a gorgeous young lady came into the store. And she started wandering around too, happy in her surroundings as I was, that is, until she saw me. The change was clear. She literally shrunk in front of me. Like a dog that lays its ears down to disappear before a threat, she withdrew from my presence in that grimy store aisle as best she could without leaving the store.

The absent-minded smile went away. She stopped looking at stuff with her hands and just used her eyes. She had to because her hands went into her pockets. I could feel this revulsion just as surely as I could see it. And the store isn't all that big. There aren't alot of places she and I could be without being able to see each other.

I hadn't covered the entire store yet, but I was feeling so uncomfortable by her reaction to me that I quit "shopping" and just went up to haggle with "the girl" and her boss for my loot. And that's when things got even more awkward. She came up to inquire about something she'd wanted but had disappeared from inventory. Now she she had to stand right beside me.

The feeling I get, looking back, was that she was just waiting for me to say something to her and that she was doing everything in her power, without stabbing me in the face, to prevent me from doing so. The very last thing she wanted was for me to hit on her. I know it. I got the signals, loud and clear. I wasn't about to say a word. 

I imagine she gets "hit" on all the time. She probably has to gird up her loins everywhere she goes. I was just another "dude fixing to get ready to lay some line on her" in her eyes. I'm sure of it. The checkout girl doesn't feel the same way about me because I'm a customer I reckon...she puts up with the lame dad jokes and the constant borrowing of the store tape measure with a smile on her face.

Anyway, the whole short episode made me feel bad. Made me feel bad because I'm not a creep. The upside was, when we both had stepped up to the check-out bar, I let her go first and get her info--cute? yes. Spending money? no--and leave. I can only imagine the pain I would've caused if I had to ask her to move her car seeing's how she'd parked right behind my truck in the parking lot making loading my super-goddamned-heavy, particle board entertainment center (remember the entertainment center?) impossible.

I hope she wasn't being racist. This time of year my tan has faded, but part of me can't help but imagine that possibility. I wish she didn't have to wander around feeling threatened by old, forty-something dads and any other male within a twenty foot radius. Being too good-looking is a problem I've only dreamed about...and in my dreams, it's never a problem.

I got a daughter.

So with that on my mind, I went home to my family with my loot. I had an assistant with the assembly of our Sauder Center and together we rendered slab after slab of cheap, veneered particle board into three dimensions. I told her and showed her some tricks I had to make assembly a snap, and I got her to hold stuff for me.

Mainly a supervisory position.

A few days before, she'd started to build her own, also cheaply made desk and bailed on it. She got the drawer done and deferred the rest to me. I'm pretty sure she just didn't want to do it. And I like that about her--the direct approach.

One day, she'll figure out that she too is a beautiful young lady and that she'll be approached by creeps and forty-something dads in thrift shops (though harmlessly I'd hope)...or coffee shops...or classrooms. I can't stop it from happening, but I would like to think that I could help her form strategies that do not involve hiding in plain sight.

Today, in our foyer, I showed her how to knee a "hugger" in the crotch and whap someone with her elbow...I know, weak, but it's a start. I'm not sure she's ready for what's to come her way. I know I'm not.