No, Dude! I Really Don't Want to See That!
Yesterday was one for the books ...
I was in a meeting with a sales manager at a car dealership, which was almost coming to a close when someone from the lobby alerted the manager that someone had driven up on the lot. From the look on his face, I could tell that whoever this person was - was not exactly welcome.
He promptly apologized and excused himself so that he could deal with the person we'll call 'Dude'. Within seconds I heard Dude and could tell that he was high maintenance from the commotion in the lobby. He had not only shown up in a test drive truck but had a ton of his belongings inside and a trailer hitched to the back.
Patiently, I waited inside hoping that whatever went down wouldn't be a 'situation' as the energy felt in the dealership was a bit heightened.
A few minutes later, the manager returned to process a paperwork for Dude when Dude stepped into the inner office for a quick question. I smelled him before I saw him as smoke rolled in like waves.
When he saw me sitting inside, it was like I was the flame to his inner-moth and Dude went from drama-dude to offer your rocker crazy. Dude proceeded to dump all his belongings in my lap and said, "Hold this sweetheart."
I stared at the prison orange stained sweatshirt and some personal papers in my lap with shock as he proceeded to empty his pockets to drop his keys there too. My first instinct was to dump them onto the floor but this was a business environment and I didn't want to make it hard for the general manager across from me, who was trying to process paperwork faster than I'd ever seen anyone in my life. I could tell he wanted this guy to leave more than I did.
Just when I thought I'd seen it all, DUDE slipped a small tube of lotion from a pocket, opened up his shirt, and exposed his chest. Then, he lowered himself so he was only inches from my face so he could rub lotion on a tattoo, saying, "Do you see my tattoo?"
Imagine me - blinking - and trying not to either punch this guy in the throat or knee him in the groin as I search for the exit, which he was promptly blocking. I had no way out and I was trapped in a chair sitting beneath DUDE and his ginormous and crazy ego.
I thought that would be the end of it, but I guess he didn't get the response he wanted from me as I thoroughly ignored him. Because he then took off his ball cap and leaned over to rub his almost bald head in my face, saying, "See my prison haircut? You like it?"
I responded with, "That's a high and tight, sir."
"Oh, it's a prison cut."
I'm thinking to myself - and you probably know first hand.
DUDE proceeds to start digging in his pants, saying, "You want to see something?"
And all I can think of is - Dear God, please don't let him expose himself any further.
Relief washes over me as he pulls out his driver's license saying, "I just got this cut two days ago. Look what I used to look like here!" He points to the picture of him with a heavy beard and shaggy hair.
I narrow my eyes at the picture and glance to his face, saying, "Your eyes are the same and I'd be able to recognize you anywhere."
My intent was - I could pick you out of a line-up, Dude. So back off!!!
However, subtle flys right over DUDE's head.
He leans in once more and talks about what a warm heart I must have, to which I respond, "No, not all the time."
While my responses were limited and not at all inviting - Dude goes further and begins to tell me his life story. All I can think about is getting this lotion-rubbing, exposed guy away from me.
Finally, the manager handed Dude some extra paperwork and gave him a polite send off just before turning to me with an apology and a bottle of sanitizer, which I generously slathered on my hands.
All this being said - why does a man think a lady needs to see any of that?
Needless to say - I made sure he was long gone before I walked to my car and drove away.
Be careful out there ladies ...