People Are Funny, No?
Sometimes I don't understand people. And because I don't understand them they probably think I'm a big idiot. Or maybe that I'm rude. But I assure you I am not that much of an idiot. And I am not that rude. However, if you are choosing to be a dumbass please expect to be treated accordingly. Case in point. I am sitting at my desk at the gallery and I hear voices outside.
A female voice says, "Oh, an art gallery. Let's take a look."
Then a guy walks through the door. Literally takes two steps inside and stops. He looks at me through his sunglasses. He hasn't really looked anywhere else.
Me: "Hey, how's it going?"
Tardass: "Good."
Meanwhile the lady with him has yet to step inside, but pokes her head in past his shoulder to see what's going on.
Tardass: "I've never seen this place."
Me: "Oh, really." Then, "Do you walk down Morro St. often."
"No."
Before I respond he says, "What do you sell?"
At this question my mind races for the correct response and the most appropriate inflection. I choose the route of being a smartass. And I'll tell you why. If you are capable of reading a sign outside of a retail store that says "art gallery and boutique" and after reading such sign decide to enter I am assuming it's not because of your curiosity to learn what this strange and foreign "gallery" could possibly mean. It's because you want to see what this gallery is offering. And I think this assumption is safe considering their dialogue I heard before they entered. It wasn't, "Art gallery? What's that?". It was, "Hey, an art gallery. Let's take a look."
So, back to Tardass.
"What do you sell?"
Smartass: "What do you think I sell."
Tardass: "I'm still trying to figure it out."
To myself: Really? You can't figure it out? Maybe take more than two steps in the door. Maybe look around a bit. Maybe put two and two together with the word "gallery" and the fact that there are over 40 art pieces on the wall. Oh, and those two racks full of t-shirts. Yeah, they're for display purposes only. Did you see this long shelf with over a dozen books on display? Strategically placed so the book covers are facing you? Yes, you guessed it. They are simply paperweights. We just don't have any paper that needs to be weighted down at the moment. Those other books in the bookshelf and those displayed on the table, well, they're just really large decorative post it notes. And the mannequins with the artsy t-shirts on them? They're for when I get lonely at night.
But the answer I vocalize is: "I sell everything on display here. Paintings, art books, t-shirts, spray paint, art markers."
Tardass turns and walks out.
He mumbles an obligatory "thank you" as he steps outside.
Here is a panoramic view of the gallery from exactly where Tardass was standing.
( click photo for much bigger version to give you the full effect )
What do I sell?
Seriously? So yeah, I don't understand people.
A female voice says, "Oh, an art gallery. Let's take a look."
Then a guy walks through the door. Literally takes two steps inside and stops. He looks at me through his sunglasses. He hasn't really looked anywhere else.
Me: "Hey, how's it going?"
Tardass: "Good."
Meanwhile the lady with him has yet to step inside, but pokes her head in past his shoulder to see what's going on.
Tardass: "I've never seen this place."
Me: "Oh, really." Then, "Do you walk down Morro St. often."
"No."
Before I respond he says, "What do you sell?"
At this question my mind races for the correct response and the most appropriate inflection. I choose the route of being a smartass. And I'll tell you why. If you are capable of reading a sign outside of a retail store that says "art gallery and boutique" and after reading such sign decide to enter I am assuming it's not because of your curiosity to learn what this strange and foreign "gallery" could possibly mean. It's because you want to see what this gallery is offering. And I think this assumption is safe considering their dialogue I heard before they entered. It wasn't, "Art gallery? What's that?". It was, "Hey, an art gallery. Let's take a look."
So, back to Tardass.
"What do you sell?"
Smartass: "What do you think I sell."
Tardass: "I'm still trying to figure it out."
To myself: Really? You can't figure it out? Maybe take more than two steps in the door. Maybe look around a bit. Maybe put two and two together with the word "gallery" and the fact that there are over 40 art pieces on the wall. Oh, and those two racks full of t-shirts. Yeah, they're for display purposes only. Did you see this long shelf with over a dozen books on display? Strategically placed so the book covers are facing you? Yes, you guessed it. They are simply paperweights. We just don't have any paper that needs to be weighted down at the moment. Those other books in the bookshelf and those displayed on the table, well, they're just really large decorative post it notes. And the mannequins with the artsy t-shirts on them? They're for when I get lonely at night.
But the answer I vocalize is: "I sell everything on display here. Paintings, art books, t-shirts, spray paint, art markers."
Tardass turns and walks out.
He mumbles an obligatory "thank you" as he steps outside.
Here is a panoramic view of the gallery from exactly where Tardass was standing.
( click photo for much bigger version to give you the full effect )
What do I sell?
Seriously? So yeah, I don't understand people.
posted by JEFF at
3:54 PM
3 Comments:
Ha, i just lol'd in our hotel room in Portland. I'm currently very Jeff'd out. Wearing the "Some Bitch Stole My Lunch Money" hoodie, and I picked up some copies of "Diary of a Wimpy Kid" last night at Powell's by your recommendation.
haha! i'm jealous you're in portland. powell's is ridiculous. i could spend days in there. and wimpy kid is awesome! you're in good hands, my friend. enjoy!
I used to work at a toy store. One time a guy walked through the door and said, "Do you sell cigarettes?" AT A TOY STORE. People are truly amazing.
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