Tuesday, March 29, 2011

Behave Yourself!

...more snow when we woke up -- it's gone now. Chilly air, blue skies.

I just got done doing an appraisal for an older gentleman...who wasn't. He's come here before for appraisals, and is very funny and engaging -- but by the time he left, it was clear --
    he'd been hitting on me the entire time. 
    Flirting, not-so-subtle invitations to lunch, dinner...grabbing my arm, saying he'd do anything for me (and he emphasized the word anything again, just in case I didn't get it.) Where was the nice, polite man who'd showed up here before?
   Whoa.
   Luckily Husband wasn't here. He takes a dim view of such things, thankfully, and usually takes care of the matter for me. Forcefully. While I was fending off this guy (and trying to finish up the appraisal), I kept thinking, "Who gave you permission to behave so badly?"

It's not just him. Airline people can treat you horribly. Like this mom, who was told her five-year-old would be perfectly fine, sandwiched in between two strangers. Ditto her two-year-old. By a U.S. Airways flight attendant. (Thank God for Southwest -- I love those guys. They really seem to understand that we're just regular people, trying to get somewhere with a modicum of discomfort. I travel quite a bit, and have never been treated any way but politely. When Husband got sick and I had to cancel my flight at 2 a.m. in the morning, they were completely understanding. Hooray for Southwest Airlines!)
     Someone can shove in front of you in line. (My favorites were while waiting to get off the ship during a cruise. A family literally stepped in front of the Mama and my dad, pushing them out of the way, then acted surprised when I called them on it.) The deli, popcorn at a movie theater. They'll run red lights or swerve around corners, then shrug when you (hopefully) miss them.
     Or my own favorite, the kids who are acting bratty in the restaurant. (Sorry, Momotics. I've had to eat my supper in the car, because Daughter #1 wouldn't stop screaming and thrashing around. It goes with the territory. And they do grow up eventually.)


Back to work. Who ever knew appraising could be a (near) contact sport!

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