(no subject)
Let me tell you about the adventure I just had.
Tuesday is Hot Tub Night, soon to be Hot Tub Night the First (Friday will be Hot Tub Night the Second). So after Aikido I picked up some cleaning and hair supplies (the two are unrelated) at Fred Meyer, ate a sandwich from Subway, and started cleaning the damn hot tub. Normally the cleaning process takes about three hours, give or take. Tonight was give -- the whole thing took FOUR HOURS. >.< Not cool. Did some extra scrubbage tonight because another patron claims to have gotten cooties* from our spa. I have no idea how exactly they figured out exactly where said cooties come from but whatever, it's actually a logical conclusion. I've been regularly using Sol-U-Guard Botanical to try and control the cooties, but apparently the jury's out as to how well it actually works. Clearly we're in need of a more long-term solution.
A long-term solution which will include cleaning the hot tub twice a week. Hence Hot Tub Friday. Possibly I will lobby for Hot Tub Friday taking place during the day. I mean, I am already there until somewhere between 11:00 and 12:00 one night a week, which is one more than most people would put up with. We'll see. OTOH, one of the reasons I'll be doing Friday is that it's the other weekday night we close at 7:30 instead of 9:00. But meh. It could work anyway.
Anyway, after about 9:30 when Evan left it was just me and the janitors. Now, this is simply a fact. Our janitors are sorta weird. The ones I have interactions with are both really friendly. One is mostly deaf and slightly grandpa-like. The other is extremely talkative, always compliments me on my "tunes" no matter what it is I'm playing. He's enjoyed equally David Bowie, Chicane, New Order, Franz Ferdinand and Patrick Wolf. And compliments me on my spa-cleanin' skills. And on my positivity. Jamie finds him creepy, but I'm not sure.
In fact, most people find all of the janitors creepy except for Deaf Grandpa. The problem with him is that he . . . doesn't actually clean very well. Here are some experiences I've had with Deaf Grandpa (I don't know his name, he tried to tell me once but it was not one of the times I could figure out what he was trying to say and I fared no better with his handwriting than his speech).
Two weeks ago, he randomly brought me a cup with ice and orange soda on a saucer at like 10:30. Which was kind of adorable. I think it was that same week when he started walking me out to my bicycle and asking (I think) if I lived far away and why I didn't drive. Tonight, he brought me a cup with ice (no saucer this time) and a can of Sunkist. As I was on my way out, he showed me a case of FROZEN SHRIMP WONTON SOUP (I am not making this up) in the freezer that he said, quite clearly, was for me.
This is the part where it gets a little weird.
While I was putting on my socks, he came and asked if I was getting ready to leave. I confirmed. Then he said something about driving and going home, and since I definitely heard the word "bicycle," I said "Yes, I'm biking." Then he said something else about "with you," which I assumed meant he was going to walk me out again so I thanked him and put my shoes on.
What he was saying was that he was going to follow me home. In his car. And, okay. I don't really suspect him of anything nefarious. My previous interactions with Deaf Grandpa lead me to suspect that he wanted to make sure I got home all right. But. I sort of automatically default to OMG NO when it comes to being followed home in a car at 12:30 a.m. by an old guy I don't actually know very well. I don't think this is unreasonable.
So he followed me down Knott and then 21st. He had to stop at the stoplight at the intersection of Fremont and 21st; I didn't. I turn right just after Fremont, that's when I decided I was going to lose him.
Because even though he's, y'know, an old, tiny Chinese guy who can't really hear or talk, and who I could (unless he is secretly a Tai Chi or Kung-fu master) most likely take down in about two seconds flat on the unlikely chance he assaulted me, I did not want to get so far that he knew where I live. Still not an overreaction . . . right?
Fact about the Alameda Ridge: for people who haven't traveled up and down it daily for years, it can be Very Confusing to navigate. But I've lived in the neighborhood since I was two and I kinda know every bloody twist and turn on that hill, mainly because I've mistakenly turned down all of them at one point or another in the past decade. So it wasn't that difficult to shake him.
Uh, guys. What the hell do I do now? I'm up in the air as to whether or not this requires any kind of action, including the "omg lol manager!people, guess what Deaf Grandpa did last night" type.
*Thing that I will not spell outright, but it (in abbreviated form) starts with an 's' and ends in a 'ph'.
Tuesday is Hot Tub Night, soon to be Hot Tub Night the First (Friday will be Hot Tub Night the Second). So after Aikido I picked up some cleaning and hair supplies (the two are unrelated) at Fred Meyer, ate a sandwich from Subway, and started cleaning the damn hot tub. Normally the cleaning process takes about three hours, give or take. Tonight was give -- the whole thing took FOUR HOURS. >.< Not cool. Did some extra scrubbage tonight because another patron claims to have gotten cooties* from our spa. I have no idea how exactly they figured out exactly where said cooties come from but whatever, it's actually a logical conclusion. I've been regularly using Sol-U-Guard Botanical to try and control the cooties, but apparently the jury's out as to how well it actually works. Clearly we're in need of a more long-term solution.
A long-term solution which will include cleaning the hot tub twice a week. Hence Hot Tub Friday. Possibly I will lobby for Hot Tub Friday taking place during the day. I mean, I am already there until somewhere between 11:00 and 12:00 one night a week, which is one more than most people would put up with. We'll see. OTOH, one of the reasons I'll be doing Friday is that it's the other weekday night we close at 7:30 instead of 9:00. But meh. It could work anyway.
Anyway, after about 9:30 when Evan left it was just me and the janitors. Now, this is simply a fact. Our janitors are sorta weird. The ones I have interactions with are both really friendly. One is mostly deaf and slightly grandpa-like. The other is extremely talkative, always compliments me on my "tunes" no matter what it is I'm playing. He's enjoyed equally David Bowie, Chicane, New Order, Franz Ferdinand and Patrick Wolf. And compliments me on my spa-cleanin' skills. And on my positivity. Jamie finds him creepy, but I'm not sure.
In fact, most people find all of the janitors creepy except for Deaf Grandpa. The problem with him is that he . . . doesn't actually clean very well. Here are some experiences I've had with Deaf Grandpa (I don't know his name, he tried to tell me once but it was not one of the times I could figure out what he was trying to say and I fared no better with his handwriting than his speech).
Two weeks ago, he randomly brought me a cup with ice and orange soda on a saucer at like 10:30. Which was kind of adorable. I think it was that same week when he started walking me out to my bicycle and asking (I think) if I lived far away and why I didn't drive. Tonight, he brought me a cup with ice (no saucer this time) and a can of Sunkist. As I was on my way out, he showed me a case of FROZEN SHRIMP WONTON SOUP (I am not making this up) in the freezer that he said, quite clearly, was for me.
This is the part where it gets a little weird.
While I was putting on my socks, he came and asked if I was getting ready to leave. I confirmed. Then he said something about driving and going home, and since I definitely heard the word "bicycle," I said "Yes, I'm biking." Then he said something else about "with you," which I assumed meant he was going to walk me out again so I thanked him and put my shoes on.
What he was saying was that he was going to follow me home. In his car. And, okay. I don't really suspect him of anything nefarious. My previous interactions with Deaf Grandpa lead me to suspect that he wanted to make sure I got home all right. But. I sort of automatically default to OMG NO when it comes to being followed home in a car at 12:30 a.m. by an old guy I don't actually know very well. I don't think this is unreasonable.
So he followed me down Knott and then 21st. He had to stop at the stoplight at the intersection of Fremont and 21st; I didn't. I turn right just after Fremont, that's when I decided I was going to lose him.
Because even though he's, y'know, an old, tiny Chinese guy who can't really hear or talk, and who I could (unless he is secretly a Tai Chi or Kung-fu master) most likely take down in about two seconds flat on the unlikely chance he assaulted me, I did not want to get so far that he knew where I live. Still not an overreaction . . . right?
Fact about the Alameda Ridge: for people who haven't traveled up and down it daily for years, it can be Very Confusing to navigate. But I've lived in the neighborhood since I was two and I kinda know every bloody twist and turn on that hill, mainly because I've mistakenly turned down all of them at one point or another in the past decade. So it wasn't that difficult to shake him.
Uh, guys. What the hell do I do now? I'm up in the air as to whether or not this requires any kind of action, including the "omg lol manager!people, guess what Deaf Grandpa did last night" type.
*Thing that I will not spell outright, but it (in abbreviated form) starts with an 's' and ends in a 'ph'.