Saturday, December 19, 2009

How Not to Hit on Me

A couple days ago, I got a sandwich at Subway for lunch.  Walking back to the office, a homeless guy asked, "Hey!  I'm really hungry.  Could I have your sandwich?"

"Sorry, no."  I kept walking, although I thought I probably should've bought the "$5 footlong" and given the other half to someone who needed it.  I'm just about to file this thought away for next time, when he says, "Could I have your number then?"

Really?  I'm a fallback position to food?  That makes me feel so special.

And then, today, just now, after 11:00 p.m.  My cell phone rings.  Takes a minute for me to gently remove the sleeping cat from my lap.  I pick up the phone, say, "Hello," and hear:

"Can I talk to ... wait a second, I dropped my files.  OK, can I talk to [insert name of some dude I don't know]?"

"No.  Sorry, you have the wrong number."

"Are you sure?  This is his parole agent."

I laugh.  "Yes.  I'm really sure.  You have the wrong number."

And then he says, "You sound kind of lonely..." 

1 comment:

Janiece said...

I think that should be your new tagline - "I'm a fallback position to a sandwich."

Social retards - they're not just for geeks anymore.