The Final Word

Posted: August 28, 2014 in Writing Prompt
Tags: , , , , , ,
I have absolutely no idea why I'm posing with a gigantic rabbit today...

I have absolutely no idea why I’m posing with a gigantic rabbit today…

A recent WordPress Daily Prompt asked Discussion Ending Lines: “We’ve all had exchanges where we came up with the perfect reply — ten minutes too late. Write down one of those, but this time, make sure to sign off with your grand slam (unused) zinger.”

I thought and thought, and I couldn’t come up with a single example of an unused zinger.  Because I have ADD, I’m very unlikely to discover the perfect comeback ten minutes after the conversation ends.  Ten minutes is like forever in attention span years; by ten minutes after the conversation it’s a fifty-fifty coin toss on if I still remember what you told me, never mind going back to try to edit my half of the script.  (I’m exaggerating, but by less than I wish.  One of my high school history teachers loathed me by year’s end because I would cheerfully and sincerely commit do whatever- finish that late research paper, participate in the Academic quiz team she coached, ask my dad if she could borrow things from his WWII collection to use in lecture, whatever- and then, just as cheerfully and sincerely, forget about it.  It was clear I loved history and had an interest and knew what I was expected to know; it was high school so it was back years before I learned that I’m an ADD-kid, so neither of us ever considered ADD as a relevant factor.  Mrs. B. just concluded that I was an insincere bitch, blowing her off because I didn’t give a fuck.  Needless to say, we aren’t close.)

…or with a flock of flamingos...

…or with a flock of flamingos…

In addition, like most folks with ADD, I suffer from poor impulse control.  That’s often a problem- I have trouble staying on task when I have a time limit, I’m snappish when something irritates or interrupts me.  It is also sometimes a blessing: I’m generous and quick to help others because I’m just as unlikely to stop and think about whether to act on my ‘good’ impulses as my ‘bad’ impulses.  It does mean that if I do think of a zinger, I generally use it before I stop and think through whether I actually should say it or not.  Remember, I work as a server/bartender full time.  I take part in literally dozens if not hundreds of conversation every day.  My sense of humor is dry and extremely snarky.  And the little filter inside my head, the one that determines whether or not I should say something, doesn’t work.  My coworkers and managers all agree that they never know what I will say next.  (Coworkers find that endearing.  Managers cringe.  I enjoy myself.  It’s all good.)

Thus, this is a conversation that really happened at work.  It was a hot muggy Monday.  I was bar tending, but we were short-handed so I also had picked up tables so that I was running just as many tables as any of the servers, plus a table on the patio, and I was still also making everyone’s drinks.  I was dripping sweat and I felt sticky and gross and disgusting.  As it got dark, things finally started to slow down, and I was given one last three-top.  As I greeted the table, directly under one of the restaurants A.C. vents, the mother asked me, “Don’t you think it’s kind of chilly in here?”

…Peacocks and fireflies?...

…Peacocks and fireflies?…

Normally I would offer some polite excuse about the fact that our heating and cooling system is fairly inconsistent (true) or tell them I would have a manager adjust the thermostat (false, but they will go over and pretend to adjust it so that customers can fool themselves and create a warming or cooling effect that is all in their mind.)  Instead, I just paused, very deliberately wiped my forehead with my fore and middle fingers, looked down at the sweat glistening on my fingers, and replied, “No.  No I don’t.”

And one more conversation stopper from work.  Mid-summer, I had the joy one Saturday of waiting on a party of about two dozen that came from some teen sports competition.  All the boys on the team were clustered in the middle of the long table.  All the mothers were sitting together and drinking wine at one end of table.  All the fathers were sitting together and drinking craft beers at the other end of the table.  I was supposed to keep the checks separate by family unit, no one wanted to sit with their family, and everyone kept moving around.  The men kept buying drinks for each other, so it was even more complicated to keep straight which drinks went with which check.  We had recently hired a couple new cooks, so the kitchen was not running with its usual smoothness, even though it managed to avoid a true crash-and-burn meltdown.  The only way I could have been more stressed would be if someone grabbed my ass.  Somehow, I made it through their meal, and even mostly managed to stay smiling.  I’ve waited tables long enough, I know to play certain probabilities.  I had the checks separated and went to hand them out at the husband end of the table.  One of the wives lifts her hand, snaps her fingers at me (I shit you not.  She did just beckon or call ‘yoo-hoo’, she actually snapped her fingers at me!) and peremptorily orders, “Miss, give me the check!”

“Of course,” I reply, and I even managed to smile graciously.  Well, possibly grimace graciously, but I definitely bared my teeth and tried to think happy thoughts.

Before I can even let go of the tip tray with the check on it, Mrs. Finger-snap turns her head, snaps her fingers again, and calls “Roger, give me your wallet!”

… Yet another random rabbit… They're multiplying, I tell you!

… Yet another random rabbit… They’re multiplying, I tell you!

Again, I just heard the words line up and march out of my mouth before I could even think about turning on the little filter.  “Oh, I see you have a traditional marriage.  Your husband makes all the money and you make all the decisions…”  Mrs. Finger-snap was not amused, and I could actually see her puff up and get ready to explode.  Fortunately for me, the rest of her table busted out laughing, including her husband and son, so I also got to see her deflate again and give a smile just as sickly as the one I had just used.  That’s the nice thing about snarky humor.  I can say almost anything, and as along as I don’t actually swear and I sound cheerful, I usually do get away with it.

Well, of course there is one other final word that is necessary to end this conversation, and that is the style card for this post:

  • Shape: Standard Sizing Small (Because it’s often easier to fit the shape to the Mesh than the Mesh to the shape…)
  • Skin: Laura in Milk from WoW Skins
  • Hair: Moskau in Dark Brown, a free gift from EdelStore
  • Outfit: Leather and Lace, a sheer blouse with prim sleeves and collars and a matching mesh mini skirt from Rotten Defiance
  • Shoes: Executive heels and stockings, out of the Executive Designer Suit set from ChiChi of London.
  • Other Accessories: Punk Pumpkin Glasses from Old Dirty Bastard, Ruby ring out of the Eve fatback from MIA, leg tattoo from GrungeInk.

My scenery and posing critters were all near the new Holy Shi®t! store.  Take this taxi if you want to take some pictures…

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