Words fail me
Well, no they don't, because I babble when nervous, except when I go completely silent, which is hard to tell 'cause I'm usually quiet. Er, anyways, babbling confusedly now.
I've been working both stores all month after the manager at the other store quit. Mornings are spent with Dad frantically trying to catch up with what got pushed behind while I was at Bud's store after lunch the previous day. (Bud has now enlightened me to the fact that, should he not have hired a manager for his store by July (the height of the busy season), I get to open his store while he and his brother go to someone's 50th high school reunion. If he hasn't hired another person by then, I'm speaking my mind and telling him where he can shove it, because he hired me to work the office for Dad's store, damn it, not run parts and the counter at his residential-oriented p.o.s.)
Anyway. Four mechanics now, two at each store. Dad's got James (lazy and a slob) and Rob (manic and short-fused, but a hard worker), Bud's got Bill (angry and a slow worker) and the recently hired Tom, who apparently worked for Bud before he moved further south to live with his girlfriend (with whom there was a bad parting three or four months ago). Tom's 42 and just asked me what I was doing tonight. This is probably my fault, as I'm desperate for conversation with anybody who isn't Bud or Bill (because Bill gets mad at people easily and I'm passive-aggressive and cry when yelled at and Bud's, well, Bud) and thus have been chatting with Tom. I told him I spent Fridays with the folks (because they have cable and yay, I heart the new Dr. Who, even if all the old school Who-ers don't like it because it's not cheesy enough for them.) I told him the twenty year age gap is a serious put off (which was brought up by mentioning his ex had a daughter- not his- that was 18, and I'm pretty sure he's got a son near my age running around somewhere, so um, gross. Not to mention I like the runner and/or swimmer build, not the 'bigger than my mother' build.)
So, I'm just going to sit here and panic and whine to Dad after work, because that's safer than saying "yes Bud, I think he was trying to get me on a date" instead of "no Bud, we were talking about his ex's kid who talked her mom into buying her a $20,000 car that neither kid nor mother have the money for." Not that Dad will be much better. He's got that "my baby girl" excuse to use. So yeah. Panicked and weirded out beyond words.
I've been working both stores all month after the manager at the other store quit. Mornings are spent with Dad frantically trying to catch up with what got pushed behind while I was at Bud's store after lunch the previous day. (Bud has now enlightened me to the fact that, should he not have hired a manager for his store by July (the height of the busy season), I get to open his store while he and his brother go to someone's 50th high school reunion. If he hasn't hired another person by then, I'm speaking my mind and telling him where he can shove it, because he hired me to work the office for Dad's store, damn it, not run parts and the counter at his residential-oriented p.o.s.)
Anyway. Four mechanics now, two at each store. Dad's got James (lazy and a slob) and Rob (manic and short-fused, but a hard worker), Bud's got Bill (angry and a slow worker) and the recently hired Tom, who apparently worked for Bud before he moved further south to live with his girlfriend (with whom there was a bad parting three or four months ago). Tom's 42 and just asked me what I was doing tonight. This is probably my fault, as I'm desperate for conversation with anybody who isn't Bud or Bill (because Bill gets mad at people easily and I'm passive-aggressive and cry when yelled at and Bud's, well, Bud) and thus have been chatting with Tom. I told him I spent Fridays with the folks (because they have cable and yay, I heart the new Dr. Who, even if all the old school Who-ers don't like it because it's not cheesy enough for them.) I told him the twenty year age gap is a serious put off (which was brought up by mentioning his ex had a daughter- not his- that was 18, and I'm pretty sure he's got a son near my age running around somewhere, so um, gross. Not to mention I like the runner and/or swimmer build, not the 'bigger than my mother' build.)
So, I'm just going to sit here and panic and whine to Dad after work, because that's safer than saying "yes Bud, I think he was trying to get me on a date" instead of "no Bud, we were talking about his ex's kid who talked her mom into buying her a $20,000 car that neither kid nor mother have the money for." Not that Dad will be much better. He's got that "my baby girl" excuse to use. So yeah. Panicked and weirded out beyond words.