Is it just me or is there anyone else out there that just hates when people, complete strangers, come and bother you while at work? I always knew this to be true about me, but it seemed to bother me even more so this weekend. Why is it that people feel the need to do this? Don’t be walking up on me like you know me. What about my personage has leads you to believe I am here to help you? Your own personal valet! Is it the uniform? Is it the marked squad car? Seriously, I need to know.
Twice, over the weekend, two people flagged me down (meaning that they saw me, minding my own business and decided to come over and bother me). So, in my head, I’m like, “what?” But you have to say it as if you are a teenage, at home, watching your favorite television show and your mother keeps calling and calling you-like she can’t wait until the next freaking commercial! Yeah, that’s it. Now you are feeling me. Anyway, although I don’t verbalize it to the poor citizen, I know it reads all over my body that I wish they’d leave me alone. (Can’t you solve your own damn problem? Shesh.) It is such a disserve. Thank goodness that it is the nature of mankind to be more self evolved then myself, so they are not taking the time to read my body language.
Of course I always help the person, to the best of my ability, and I normally end up feeling bad that I did not give the friendly, I love my job, type of customer service that I am known for (really, I am known for it). I give it every time a respond to a call. These people off the street just seem to broadside a brother. Damn!
As I was driving home from work, tired and worn, I contemplated why it is that it annoys me so much when people just come off of the street asking for help. I have come to the conclusion that I put these people in the same category as people who cut in line. They have just by passed the middle man and went right to the source. They have cheated the people who went through the trouble of dialing 9-11. What makes them so damn special? Wait in line like everyone else, bitch (the unsex bitch, which refers to either a man or a woman. Not the rude ‘bitch’ bitch.).
I know, I know. This is sick and I should seriously consider therapy. But the way I see it…as long as I am aware of and openly admit that I have the little idiocracy; I’ve already won half the battle. Right? Right? Well, it helps me to sleep at night, at any rate; so there!
-One Man’s (somewhat psychotic) Opinion. Peace.
(I’m gonna have to stop sharing with you people. Blog therapy sucks.)