Important!
I have come to the conclusion that all people who have and use those Bluetooth things suffer from an erroneous sense of Importance.
The other day at work I very deliberately veered away from a Bluetooth-wearing guy who caught my eye. I scampered into another aisle and tried to hide. I could see that he was going to ask me a question, but I didn't care. I wanted no part of the obsequiousness and superiority that would come bubbling and oozing out of him.
But he followed me!
HIM: Excuse me?
ME: (Oh hell.) Yes?
HIM: Were you avoiding me? I had a question.
ME: Well, yes, I was, to be honest.
HIM: Why?
ME: (taps right ear indicating the odious device jacked into his head)
HIM: Oh! Ha ha! It's not going to hurt you.
ME: Let's hope not. What can I help you with?
HIM (thoroughly oblivious to my admittedly weak sarcasm-grenade): Well, I was wondering where I could find a couple of things.
As it turned out his 'couple of things' equalled approximately 37 things. I essentially became his personal shopper. And, yes, during the odyssey he engaged in 5 or 6 desperately important calls. One of them was about What Joanne Really Said To Steve At The Bar Last Night. I didn't intend to eavesdrop but, well, you know. I gazed yearningly at other people as they passed, hoping for death. And, yes, my existence came to a halt whilst he stopped short, often blocking aisles as he yacked away, completely lost in conversation, hand-gesturing, blah blah blabbity blah. After a (very short) interval of patient waiting I would begin to drum my fingers loudly on the heap of items in his cart, or begin to do the rather annoying thing I sometimes do of hiss-whistling tunelessly through gritted teeth. This indicates impatience on my part and is generally pretty difficult to ignore. And it worked, despite the fact that I had to do it three separate times.
Then he offered me five dollars 'for my time and my help' as I prepared to sprint away from him at the checkout. He actually indulged in the gruesome cliched display of tugging a huge important wad of cash out of his deep important pocket and ostentatiously peeling off the fiver and kind of wiggling it at me. I demurred, somehow managing (almost completely) to be polite and to prevent my face from curdling in disgust. For a single wild instant I considered tugging open the waistband of my pants so that he could tuck the tip in, nice and snug.
And off he went, Bluetoothing away into the distance. For f's sake.
The other day at work I very deliberately veered away from a Bluetooth-wearing guy who caught my eye. I scampered into another aisle and tried to hide. I could see that he was going to ask me a question, but I didn't care. I wanted no part of the obsequiousness and superiority that would come bubbling and oozing out of him.
But he followed me!
HIM: Excuse me?
ME: (Oh hell.) Yes?
HIM: Were you avoiding me? I had a question.
ME: Well, yes, I was, to be honest.
HIM: Why?
ME: (taps right ear indicating the odious device jacked into his head)
HIM: Oh! Ha ha! It's not going to hurt you.
ME: Let's hope not. What can I help you with?
HIM (thoroughly oblivious to my admittedly weak sarcasm-grenade): Well, I was wondering where I could find a couple of things.
As it turned out his 'couple of things' equalled approximately 37 things. I essentially became his personal shopper. And, yes, during the odyssey he engaged in 5 or 6 desperately important calls. One of them was about What Joanne Really Said To Steve At The Bar Last Night. I didn't intend to eavesdrop but, well, you know. I gazed yearningly at other people as they passed, hoping for death. And, yes, my existence came to a halt whilst he stopped short, often blocking aisles as he yacked away, completely lost in conversation, hand-gesturing, blah blah blabbity blah. After a (very short) interval of patient waiting I would begin to drum my fingers loudly on the heap of items in his cart, or begin to do the rather annoying thing I sometimes do of hiss-whistling tunelessly through gritted teeth. This indicates impatience on my part and is generally pretty difficult to ignore. And it worked, despite the fact that I had to do it three separate times.
Then he offered me five dollars 'for my time and my help' as I prepared to sprint away from him at the checkout. He actually indulged in the gruesome cliched display of tugging a huge important wad of cash out of his deep important pocket and ostentatiously peeling off the fiver and kind of wiggling it at me. I demurred, somehow managing (almost completely) to be polite and to prevent my face from curdling in disgust. For a single wild instant I considered tugging open the waistband of my pants so that he could tuck the tip in, nice and snug.
And off he went, Bluetoothing away into the distance. For f's sake.