Saturday, July 05, 2008
It's Out There
So...I think I’m finding my inner bitch. Earlier this week I was in a pretty damn good mood. I had a tour with some people from California and Sweden and some other places and the two mentioned groups had themselves a blast. (The others acted like most tourists who come out....as if they are going to a funeral. It’s not that I give a bad tour, I give a great tour, it’s this weird thing people do on their vacations. I’ve seen it when I worked in the cruise industry and would take cruises and go on shore excursions. People aren’t always there to enjoy themselves, they are there to say they’ve been there and done that. Seriously. It still leaves me speechless to this day. It’s like going on vacation is a burden instead of an enjoyment. Please shoot me in the face if I ever get that way.)
Anyhoo, where was I? Oh, right, the tour with the Swedes and Calis....they had a great time, laughed at all my stupid jokes I make on tour, were really in to it and tipped me big. Big. BIG! And, the best part, when they got off the boat, the Cali dad told me, “You have a great personality. Don’t ever lose that part of you.” Then he and the Swede girl who laughed at everything I said in jest, (which, kids, that makes a person very likable and charming. Have a sense of humor and pay attention to the person talking and you will be very liked), were walking towards the show and talking. I overheard Cali dad telling her what a great personality I had, what a wonderful sense of humor I had and she was saying, “Oh yes! She was great! She was very funny! I liked her. Her tour was fantastic.” (And, Swede girl brought along some serious Swede guy eye candy so she is welcome back annnnny time. Oh shit these guys were painfully good looking.)
So, after hearing that, I floated through the rest of my day and it carried over to the next day. I was really enjoying this job and life itself. It’s amazing what a little compliment can do for a person.
The mood remained until the following night when one of my neighbors got drunk and pissy and was basically an asshole. And the next day at work was apparently Asshole Day because people were in bitchy little fucking moods all day. That mood apparently carried over to yesterday and by the middle of the day, I was also part of Asshole Day and finding myself in short supply of patience with a lot of the tourists.
The last straw was when I saw two little pre-teen fucking shits from South America chasing the baby peacocks around and smacking them with a stick. Oh I lost it. I lost my fucking mind when I saw that. I yelled at them from across the park and ran to them and basically unleashed all my pent up aggression and anger on them. I told them to nok it the fuck off, what the fuck was the matter with them, I jammed my finger on my forehead to illustrate my desire for these twats to use their brains, I told them to get the fuck out of here....I went off. Oh yes, I was cursing at them in a very harsh way. All I could see was red.
They fled to their parents and would not meet my eye the rest of the time they were there. While I was laying in to them, cursing and yelling away, I thought to myself, “Welp, I’m fucking fired now” but I did not care at that moment. Who the hell comes to a park with animals and then abuses the animals? Who the fuck does that?
Well, of course I’m not fired and I was told, later, that if I ever see anything like that again, I do have the authority to tell them to leave the park. That’s it. Your time here is done, get the fuck out. Wish I would have known that at the time. I would have marched on over to the parents and told them to get their spawn the FUCK out of there, get in to their cars and get. OUT!
Now I know for the future.
Before that incident I had a tour with a bunch of Italians. Let me start by telling you, again, that I’m 1/4 Italian. Ok? So anyone who wants to read this and pull the racist card or some such shit can just eat it. I can’t stand the Italians. They are the rudest son’s of bitches I’ve ever met. (The French follow extremely closely in second place.) They don’t listen, they throw shit around, they litter, they try to talk louder than you, they make it impossible for others to hear the tour guide and they think their behavior is funny.
So I had 14 Italian assholes and 8 people from somewhere else. The 8 people from somewhere else were well behaved and listening...the best they could. The Italians? Pscht. At one point in the tour I like to show people a sample of saw grass. It’s serrated on three sides and talking about it is one thing, showing them a piece, passing it around for all to see, is another. It helps them to understand. So I have a piece of sawgrass, I hand it to one of the 8 good people and they pass it through their row and up to the Italian assholes in the next row. Italian bitch decides she’s done looking at it and throws it over the side of the boat. Hey, who cares if three OTHER rows of people have not had the opportunity to look at it, she’s done. That’s all that matters.
I stopped the boat and asked her what her problem was. She looked at me as if she didn’t understand English. (Bullshit, they are here for 2-3 years learnin English that their rich parents are paying for...my aching ass you don’t understand what I just said, bitch.) I said, “Look, trixie..” (I don’t know why, either...guess cause I couldn’t very well say, “Look, bitch” on tour so “trixie” came out, instead.) “Look, trixie, the point of ‘show and tell’ is for everyone to see what is being passed around, not just you.”
She got all embarrassed, not at her mistake but being called out on it publicly, and apologized. Dumb ass. So I got another sample and handed it to that row with explicit instructions to pass it up this time. Same row, last guy in the row, another asshole Italian. Looks at it, shrugs theatrically to let me know he’s very unimpressed and throws it over the side...and then they all laugh about it.
No. No you didn’t. One thing I’ve learned about Italians....when they try to “break your balls”, you break theirs right back. And I did just that.
“What the HELL is the matter with you?”
He looks at me in shock.
“What part of, ‘pass this around’ is so difficult for you to understand?”
Italian Twat: “I wasn’t listening”
Me: “Clearly. You haven’t been listening the entire time and not only do you not listen, you have no consideration for other people. I did not hand the sawgrass to your row, exclusively. In case you were unaware, Einstein, you’re not the only people on the boat. This is not a private tour for you.”
Italian Twat: “......”
I grabbed another sample and stated, “Pass this around. Do NOT piss me off, Italy. There are other people on this boat who would like to look at this and you will NOT throw this over the side again. CAPISCE??????? Remind me to act like an ass if I ever visit your filthy country. You’re trying to break my balls? I’m going to break yours.”
Yes. I did indeed say just that.
And yes, they did indeed pass the damn saw grass around and they behaved their sorry little asses the rest of the tour. I didn’t even give the tip speech at the end because I didn’t want their fucking money. I wanted them the fuck off of my boat. The other 8 people were very consoling and gave me pity when they got off the boat. They also tipped even though I did not ask for it. The 4 who were in the front don’t like Italians either, apparently. Funny thing is, I think those 4 were French. HA!
Anyway, by the end of the day yesterday, Asshole Day had calmed down, I had started to calm down and by the time it was all said and done, things were back to normal. I don’t really like to go off on people. I do it, at times, when I’ve just had it it up to here with people...except when I’m driving..then forget it. I’m not passive when it comes to my life being endangered by fools with Cracker Jack licenses. Overall, though, I usually just bear it and say nothing or mutter under my breath or come on here and vent....but every once in awhile I stand up and speak.
But yesterday I was letting people know, I’ve had it. You will not walk all over me, you will not get away with your shit, you are not funny and I’m going to let you know, precisely, what a tool shed I think you are. This time, I’m not using any tact whatsoever.
Seems to work out pretty well.
Who knew.
Oh, God, I almost forgot to mention this. Because I’m a retard. I’m not a retard for almost forgetting, I’m a retard and you’ll see why here in just a moment. Remember the guy I was mentioning in the earlier entry? Mr. Eye Candy who comes in some times where I work? Ok, so he was there yesterday. Looking extremely fine in his Iraq War veteran t-shirt he had. (He served in that war.) Being as it was Independence Day I felt that I wanted to say, ‘thank you’ to him for his sacrifice and service. He walked over to some of my co-workers, shook their hand and talked a little bit. Then he made the point of turning around to say hi to me. (Don’t get excited, it’s because he’s a wonderful person and has manners...not because it’s a sign he likes me. Don’t analyze that one...some of you...you know who you are.)
Well, as always, I get flustered around him and don’t know what to say. I’m not even remotely clever, witty, charming or endearing when he’s around because I act like a fucking 12 year old school girl with a crush and OH MY GOD! He’s so cool and I respect the hell out of him and swoon! he’s good looking...so like, hi!! I’M RETARDED!
He turns around and says, “Hi (my name).”
Me: brilliantly, “Hey, what’s up?”
and then nothing more.
Not “Happy Independence Day” not, “Thank you for serving”, not anything like, oh, I don’t know, good! Not anything remotely interesting. Not anything even resembling the fact that I’m a girl...noooooooo!
I’m going to sit there in my ugly ass uniform, no make up, sweating, hair destroyed by humidity, looking like shit, and say, “Hey. What’s up?”
Because I’m brimming over with confidence and control when he’s around.
And do you know what he did?
He chuckled! CHUCKLED! And then turned around and talked to my co-workers some more never saying another word to me again.
Chuckled like he was dealing with an idiot. Because that’s exactly how I acted. I wanted to hit myself over the head with a shovel and then bury myself in a 30 foot deep hole I had dug with that shovel.
Sigh. Yah, I know. I’m disgusted with myself, too. See? This is why I don’t want to date.
