Foot on the Other Shoe.

Yesterday I was in the vortex of heat and humidity that is the Dupont metro station, just standin', mindin' my own business, not putting "g's" on the end of my words when a man walked by me. But this wasn't just any man. No no no. This man looked shockingly like Milton from Office Space. He was rotund, had an impressive comb-over, was wearing a bona fide pocket protector and of course was wheeling a rolling briefcase behind him. As if this weren't enough to ruin my morning, he wheeled his little briefcase directly over my foot and didn't apologize.

Now, I could go easily go into a rant here about the necessary eradication of briefcases with wheels and the a-fucks who roll them, but let me tell you why he didn't apologize to me (because it takes it to a whole nother level of mind boggling): he didn't apologize to me because he was too busy singing "Don't Cry For Me Argentina" from Evita. I swear to all that is good and holy, just picture this guy strolling through the metro yesterday, haphazardly dragging his briefcase behind him, singing show tunes from Evita and you pretty much have my morning down to a T:

= C:

What boggles my mind the most is that he was shamelessly singing at full volume! He wasn't even wearing headphones and singing along to what he was listening to! Not like that would make it any better, just more understandable. But I will not cry for you, sir. I will not cry for you, for you just dragged the contents of your briefcase across my foot without a shred of an apology.

After work I swung by the FedEx store around the corner from my office to send out a package. The chick at the FedEx store hates me because I always write our company's FedEx account number wrong and screw things up. The middle numbers are 722 and I always write 772. As I approached the counter and handed her my package (that's what she said,) the following exchange went down:

Sassy FedEx Employee: How you doin' today?
Me: I'm OK thanks, you?
Sassy FedEx Employee: Fine. Now you sure you wrote your account number right this time?
Me: Oh yea. Sorry about that. Dyslexia: she's a cruel, cruel mistress. I mean—mistress cruel Dyslexia is!

Sassy FedEx Employee then looked up from entering numbers in the computer and stared at me with a look on her face that clearly said, "the fuck??" I know this facial expression well. I give it to other people on a regular basis. And then I realized—I'm this woman's Milton PerĂ³n. I'm the weirdo who ruined her day. Not the other way around. She's probably going to go home and have a good laugh with her friends about the fucktard who referred to Dyslexia as a "cruel mistress." Why did I have to do that? Why couldn't I have just said, "Yes, I wrote the correct number" and moved on with my life? And why did I have to go the whole nine yards and make the "mistress cruel Dyslexia is" joke?



Carla said...

I scrolled down to Milton as Eva Peron and laughed really, really loudly. However, I am alone in my office. I guess if I'm going to known as something, "hysterically cackling girl of the office" should suffice.

Helena said...


He's all over DC. Usually I only notice repeat homeless offenders, but Milton is someone I've grown to love. I've never heard a peep out of him. I'm glad to know he's crazy and I wasn't just being mean because he looks it.

MG said...

You just made my day. Thank you!

Teresa AKA Rachel said...

well, maybe he thought you were a prostituion whore. wink wink...ahahahahahah

Chris said...

I just laughed out loud at work. (No, I did not "LOL.") Thanks! :)

2b1b: The sardonic voice of 20-somethings everywhere, Monday through Friday. said...

You've seen Milton before?! Where?! Tell me everything! Can we invite him to happy hour tomorrow night?

John said...

Understanding you were the fucktard in her day is the first step to preventing it in the future. Wait, maybe accepting a higher power is step 1. Whatever. You are on the path!

Christine said...

1. Milton sounds AMAZING.

2. Don't worry Meg, I do this all the time to the fine people that work in the CVS across the street from my apartment. I go there blackout drunk at least a few times a month and force them to help me pick out valentine's day treats and put Dr. Scholl's inserts in my heels. They've finally stopped pretending that they don't know me come Monday morning and I have convinced myself that it's because I bring so much joy to their lives.

3. Also on the CVS front? I went in to drop off my birth control prescription a few weeks ago and the pharmacist asked if I had been there before. I said yes, and then he looked up and candidly said, "Oh yeah, I remember you." Apparently it was the same guy I bought my Plan B from a few months ago. AWESOME.

India said...

I always really don't want to be that weird person that ruins some ones day, but I feel like my temptation to comment on a tshirt someones wearing or a song they're listening to takes me too far.

On the other hand, it's not like making a funny slightly un-PC joke can even compare to the absolute ridiculousness of someone singing fucking Avita songs in the subway with a fucking ROLLING BAG. I hate those things. Especially on the subway. Fortunately for me, singing people are abundant in San Francisco. Today I saw a middle-aged Chinese man singing opera on a corner.

I laughed at this post. A lot.

andrea said...

this may make me a creeper but i live in philly and totally would stalk you out at the art museum...sadly i'll be in syracuse until after the holiday is over. i've been reading your blog now for maybe 9 months and have turned all of my friends onto it.

anyway, i hope you can find some good material to write about in philly. should be pretty easy!

2b1b: The sardonic voice of 20-somethings everywhere, Monday through Friday. said...

I'm disappointed that you're not here to stalk me, Andrea. Please know you let me down.

Love always,

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