Monday, November 16, 2009

Elevatoracism

Amazingly, all my inshights come from eavesdropping. After lunch, I was waiting for the elevator back to work, hanging on the cusp between being irritated the elevators were running so slowly and not really being in a hurry to get back to my desk, when I was surrounded by a gaggle (three actually. Is that a gaggle?) of the computer nerds who work on the floor below us. As are so very many computer nerds, these looked to be Indian or Pakistani.

One of them was talking about his girlfriend. I inferred from what I overheard that she was pretty and sexually active. Inference was necessary since he talked about her in this junior high kind of giggly way that relied on innuendo and ellipses when what he really needed was the phrase “blow job.” Never the less, his fellow nerds seemed very impressed.

This continued even when the elevator finally showed up and we all got on. He wrapped up by abruptly assuring them that wedding plans were not a consideration since she was “just a Mexican.” I was so astonished I almost broke the sacred social rule of Never Look at Someone in the Elevator. Partly it was because I was immediately embarrassed , as if I committed a faux pas just be being there. It was also because the guy was so dumpy, I was amazed to think any chick would allow him to sniff her panties, let alone a hot one bang her. And he’s going to dump her? What a schmoe.

Also, there was the weird sensation of hearing racist comments so causally unloaded. Did the fact the he was a minority make it OK? I can imagine how three dumpy white guys sharing that in a crowded elevator would be received.

So, hot chica, if you’re reading this, run girl, run. He’s a jerk, you can do better, his stubby little dick is never going to get bigger and his mother hates you. You can thank me later.

9 comments:

  1. Maybe he meant the "Hecho en Mexico" printed around the inflation tube?

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  2. Words of wisdom, Peenee. That any of these guys actually get laid is a surprise.

    I like the awkwardness of elevator rides. Suddenly all the things on the ceiling, walls, and floor become fascinating. I prefer to strike up strange conversations with fellow riders, you should have inquired about alleged sexual activities with an indignant and highly skeptical tone and raised eyebrow that only comes from a seasoned professional.

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  3. Inshights? That meant that I read the entire rest of this fabulous piece in the voice of a Liza Minnelli impersonator, which only made it all the more so.

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  4. Amazingly, all my inshights come from eavesdropping.

    If you have any dirt on Ayem8y or Jason or Kevin or Muscato, drop by my place today.

    It’s Gossip Central!

    Apparently, Michael Rivers is the secret love child of Liberace and Bobby Crush!

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  5. No wonder some countries still have arranged marriage. Without it, some men would never find a wife.

    Miss J had a similar experience a couple months back. She was at a club watching Mr. J’s band. She was leaning against a back wall and happened to be standing next to a stocky dark-skinned man in a tie-dyed t-shirt. Sometime later, that man disappeared, replace by a short man, unattractive man- possibly from India. He asked Miss J to dance. She politely declined, saying, thank you but she is married. He then asked, “Is that fat Mexican you were standing next to your husband?” Excuse me???

    Not as hateful as Mr. P’s encounter but not exactly nice either. What if the fat man HAD been Miss J’s husband? Undoubtedly, someone woulda been in for a scratchin’!

    Made her almost wish she told him the real reason she wouldn't dance with him: you're homely and your breath stinks.

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  6. I was in an oddly similar expererience. Although, I stared the bastard down until he felt like the small asshat he really was.

    My kids say I have 'the look' perfected. yay, me?

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  7. Amy, I think you should teach it to all of the rest of us!

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  8. his stubby little dick is never going to get bigger and his mother hates you

    You really should print this phrase up as a line of greeting cards.

    xxoo

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