Alright, alright. That might be a little bit too far but I finally actually talked to the girl at Subway.. a bit. Bout time.. I started with my age, as planned, and from there it just kind of worked out I guess. I was granted uninterrupted conversation for quite some time. Plenty long enough for my freshly toasted sub to become well chilled and a bit soggy. Who gives a damn about the sub though.
Can’t say it was a conventional conversation, then again, for me, I’d say the unconventional is my convention in conversation. She makes me laugh. She seems to be a bit off the rocker, herself. Which, I naturally adore, since I’m no poster child for sanity and normal thought. After her witty remarks about my age it progressed back to the topic of us both being old. Where she asked if I could feel the rain coming in my bones. To which I replied no they all simply hurt all the time. (However, now that I think about it I might be able to and just haven’t paid attention.) But we swapped stories about being “old.’ About how I feel rusty when trying to get out of bed in the morning and how I sit in the shower until all the hot water is gone to try to soothe my old joints. Her, admitting that she does the same, that even though she makes the schedule she is always late because of trying to lay in bed and sit in the shower all morning …Don’t judge me. Common ground is common ground. The conversation just went here and there jumping from car troubles, a conversation during which she diagnosed my jeep as having engine mouse – an ailment characterized by a giant mouse being trapped inside my jeep which is what causes squeaking noises from my front end, to cooking, where we argued over the necessity of a microwave oven (which I don’t have) and she told me I could just put my sub in a toaster to warm it up (and fervently urged me to do so and to let her know how it went) as well as her expressing how much she’d love to have a griddle because it would make cooking so much easier because she wouldn’t have to wash it (I, of course, made fun of this ridiculous notion), to a job offer. Apparently this girl is the manager there. (Mmm, love me a woman in power.) And she needs someone else for 3rd shift, which sounds like an absolutely wonderful job for me. My qualifications, of course, being: I don’t sleep anyway, I hate the general public – which works with the lower customer traffic, and OCD – lots and lots of down time for cleaning, YAY! I do have a job, but these hours wouldn’t interfere with that job. And just imagine all the useless shit I could buy with all the extra money!
This of course leads me to the real issue though. Can I work for /with the girl? Hmm. Yea, that still remains to be seen. I think I’ll have to have more than one conversation to find out. I mean, I still don’t know if it’s all just cannon fodder or whatever. I don’t know if she has a boyfriend or if she even likes boys for that matter. Further still the whole co-worker thing can be a bit tricky sometimes. But we’ll see. It would be nice to have another job and this one would be somewhat ideal.
So, somehow it went from trying to talk to cute girl to maybe possibly working for said cute girl. Ah, complications. All the complications.
adarkspot 