Thursday, August 16, 2012

Different Worlds

Last week I started a new contract job, and was pretty excited not only to make some money, but also to get out of the house, ride the bus, and have some interesting fodder for the ol' blog. Lo and behold, I have already found some pretty blog-worthy material. Earlier today I was thinking of writing a tale about my bus ride the other morning, which consisted of two homeless guys hitting up everyone on the streetcar for beer money (at 11:00 a.m.), two riders with dogs (one of whom sat on the floor with his dog), and a whole bunch of messes of people all over the place.

But then, at the office, I decided to hop in the elevator and head down to the lobby to get a coffee, and I ran into the most stereotypically sleazy sales guy that I have just about ever met. I got into the elevator and he gave me the classic bro-nod. I returned favor and stepped in for the ten-flight ride. After a second or two, he turns to me and asks "Dude, how do you get away with the mohawk?"
Now, a few points of clarification before I get into our entire convo: yes, I kind of have a mohawk, but it's definitely more of a faux-hawk, and I never have it combed all the way up. It's not like I have a foot tall wall of hair running down the middle of my head or anything. Still, I guess it's noticeable enough to comment on. Also, this guy just couldn't stop eating miniature candy bars. He had a handful of about four of them, and ate three of them throughout the course of our forty second-ish elevator ride. So all of his statements are said around a mouth full of little Snickers bars.

So I ask him to repeat himself, in part because it was hard to understand him around all the chocolate and nougat, and in part because I couldn't tell if he was being friendly or being kind of a dick. So I pause to think about it and reply "Well, you cut your hair like this, trim down the sides, and let everyone deal with it."

He kind of nods, adding "Well, what kind of work do you do? IT?" And I informed him I was in the creative department (truth be told, I don't know the official title of the department I'm in) and he says back "yeah, I guess that is more of a creative haircut... I couldn't get away with it." Yes, I know that we looked very different; he was in a blue pinstripe suit and I was in a Dickies shirt and jeans, but what really struck me as the difference was that he was wearing sunglasses, despite having come from inside of the building.

Our conversation continued, I commented "Well, you know, there are pluses and minuses. I'm technically kind of a behind the scenes kind of guy, so my appearance is usually just kind of matters to me, my boss, and my computer monitor. I don't deal with execs or customers, I only have to impress people with my work, not my appearance."

He pauses and mulls that over. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Pluses and minuses.... Like, I make great money and live a life of leisure. I am pretty much set for life. But you have a mohawk. I'd probably trade with you, because you have a mohawk and I don't. I can't buy the right to wear a mohawk. You just can. Yeah, I'd trade with you in a heartbeat."

I assured him that I'd trade haircuts if we could trade incomes as we parted ways.

So again, as per the usual, this anecdote once again proves that apparently I attract weirdos like a fiddler attracts a square dance. All I wanted to do when I set foot on that elevator was to stand in once place and somewhat blankly stare at the numbers go by, just like anyone else would usually expect in the same situation.

Having had a few days to mull this over in my head, and after discussing this with some friends, I kind of assume this dude must have been pretty baked. That is the best explanation for him wearing sunglasses when getting onto the elevator from inside the office, for his insane consumption of mini candy bars, and for his generally strange manner. Nonetheless, baked or no, this guy still saw me and just knew: this guy will make for some good conversation. Little did he know that almost as soon as he started talking to me, I just knew: this guy will make for some good blog.

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