Sunday, September 27, 2009
Old Man Strategery!
Sometimes, I’m kind of a moron. I mean, pretty frequently, actually. I’m about to disclose an experience that I had on Saturday when I arrived at the post office to mail my school pictures to my madre. Don’t leave a comment telling me I’m stupid. I already know. Here it goes.
I pulled into the stall next to the handicapped spot. I got out and started walking in with my stuff to mail. In the handi spot, an old man in a Buick was sitting in his passenger seat with the window down. It looked like he was maybe waiting for his wife who was inside the post office (strategery #1). He was really old, as in like 80 years old (strategery #2). He stopped me. He seemed harmless and sweet enough, and my mom taught me to be nice and respectful, so I was. I stopped and talked to him.
He started with, “I bet your husband’s handsome!” (strategery #3) I responded, “I don’t have a husband.” He looked at me in shock. He then asked how old I am. I told him I am twenty-two. He said, “Well maybe you’ll find one soon.” I smiled and said, “Maybe.”
He was shaking violently as though he had Parkinson’s, or some other thing that old people get. Looking back now, I’m not sure if this is another instance of his strategery or not. With his violently shaking hand, he reached down to get a stack of paper from his lap. He handed it to me, telling me that it was a stack of clean jokes and riddles. I took it and said, “OK, thanks,” incredibly confused as to why I’d want these. But I thought maybe he was just being cute and trying to make the world a cleaner place. That’s what old people try to do, right (strategery #4)?
Then he got to his point. “I was wondering if you could give me a little money for ‘em.” Now it was starting to make sense. I said, “Oh, sure,” and I went to get him a dollar. After I had already opened my wallet and he had seen my five dollar bill, he said, “Maybe you have a five or a ten.”
My brain paused and said, “What-the-fffff?! Did he really just have the gall to ask for a five dollar bill? For a stack of papers with TEXT on it?!” Oh, I was ticked. But I’d feel like a guilty douchebag if I said, “No, I don’t have a five or ten,” after he had already seen it. Geez, I’m such a sucker. So I handed him my five, feeling like a total ass who just got worked over (and I mean the cuss word in the actual “retarded donkey” sense, so I’m allowed to use it).
He then proceeds to tell me about how he adopted eight children (strategery #5) and is trying to get more money and whatnot.
I can’t remember how the conversation ended, but I was totally puzzled by why an 80-year old man would adopt eight children if he can’t bloody afford them. That’s when I really accepted that I had totally gotten suckered by an OLD MAN.
I went inside, and I was sure to let one of the workers know that an old man was outside trying to sell jokes, and that I didn’t know if they wanted to know or if that was OK or not. The post office worker said, “Oh, okay. Thank you for letting us know. I know exactly who that is, and no it’s not OK.”
Translation of the post office worker’s response: Affirmative Janae, you are an idiot.
When I mailed my stuff to my mom, I walked back out to my car. He tried to stop me again! I couldn’t believe it. This time he said, “Wait a minute young lady, come to my window.”
By this time I was completely freaked out. That line should freak anyone out who’s in their right mind. I flashed him my stack of (super lame) really cool clean jokes, and said, “You already gave me some.” He said, “Oh, that’s right,” in his old shaky voice.
He mumbled something else, but I hurriedly got into my car and left. Then I called my mother to tell her about this horrible old man who completely used his old age and many other acts of strategery to sucker nice young college girls into giving him money.
Lesson learned for Janae. Learn when to say “no.”