(no subject)
I pretty much have no experience with illegal drugs. I’ve never taken anything that wasn’t recommended by a trained medical specialist. I know people who’ve sparked up a doob or dropped a tab of something, but not usually in my presence. I was only ever offered something once, literally ten years ago when I went to visit The Felon at college. I politely declined and that was the end of discussion*. I’ve never experienced this peer pressure that they speak of on the teevee. I guess I must’ve chosen the right people to hang out with or something. Perhaps the fact that I’m a big chicken played a big part. I’m not easily swayed from my chickenicity and I like to be in control of my faculties, frankly and the occasional low blood sugar attack is enough of a “trip” for me. Fuck, if I ingest some caffeine-laden beverage at some random and wrong moment I end up in a tizzy. In short, I’m too neurotic to ride the magic carpet and I’m perfectly okay with that.
Now what’s making me think of this matter is a fairly disturbing experience I had at work this afternoon. This kid who used to work at my store in the days of yore showed up to get a passport picture and not only was he high as a proverbial kite, but he looked pretty burned out and it was kind of a little bit scary. Basically, he was my little work buddy back in the day, all clean and bright and cute. We liked the same music and he was into literature and he always used to talk about studying journalism and the guy standing in front of me this afternoon was…not that person…and it was painfully obvious. Now, I’ve dealt with customers who weren’t “all there” for whatever reason (and there are oh, so many when you work with the public) and it does make you uncomfortable when you’re trying to communicate with a person who’s clearly on another planet or who’s too drunk to properly grasp the change you’re trying to place in their wavering hand. It’s different when someone you used to care about is standing there in front of you and he looks like you’d find him living in a van down by the river and his mind is pretty much orbiting Mars. Also, trying to take such a person’s passport picture is a lot like taking one for a three year old except this guy’s like twenty-five (actually, he was in the same graduating high school class as Brother Adam). I have trouble dealing with coherent people as it is. The loopy ones freak me right the hell out. So, pretty much, I was a tad heartbroken as was the Holy Vessel who came flying over to me after he left to discuss the distressing experience. Of course, the kicker was when he was walking down the aisle to the back door and frickin’ walked into one of the support beams in the aisle. Sweet Jesus. So yeah, that was my afternoon.
*Okay, I was in a teeny room with the door sealed shut and the windows closed so the campus fuzz wouldn’t find us out, so I suppose you could say I’m guilty of passive pot-smoking. Contact high anyone?
Now what’s making me think of this matter is a fairly disturbing experience I had at work this afternoon. This kid who used to work at my store in the days of yore showed up to get a passport picture and not only was he high as a proverbial kite, but he looked pretty burned out and it was kind of a little bit scary. Basically, he was my little work buddy back in the day, all clean and bright and cute. We liked the same music and he was into literature and he always used to talk about studying journalism and the guy standing in front of me this afternoon was…not that person…and it was painfully obvious. Now, I’ve dealt with customers who weren’t “all there” for whatever reason (and there are oh, so many when you work with the public) and it does make you uncomfortable when you’re trying to communicate with a person who’s clearly on another planet or who’s too drunk to properly grasp the change you’re trying to place in their wavering hand. It’s different when someone you used to care about is standing there in front of you and he looks like you’d find him living in a van down by the river and his mind is pretty much orbiting Mars. Also, trying to take such a person’s passport picture is a lot like taking one for a three year old except this guy’s like twenty-five (actually, he was in the same graduating high school class as Brother Adam). I have trouble dealing with coherent people as it is. The loopy ones freak me right the hell out. So, pretty much, I was a tad heartbroken as was the Holy Vessel who came flying over to me after he left to discuss the distressing experience. Of course, the kicker was when he was walking down the aisle to the back door and frickin’ walked into one of the support beams in the aisle. Sweet Jesus. So yeah, that was my afternoon.
*Okay, I was in a teeny room with the door sealed shut and the windows closed so the campus fuzz wouldn’t find us out, so I suppose you could say I’m guilty of passive pot-smoking. Contact high anyone?