Doppelganger.
It’s the only way to explain it.
Lunchtime today; I am in the chemist purchasing some sort of treatment for Blonde Colleague’s ‘water problems’ as she doesn’t like to answer the searching questions regarding her ‘lady-plumbing’ whenever she has to buy it. I am not fond of strangers thinking that it is I who have a urinary-tract infection, but this seems to be a moot point.
Cashier: So how are you anyway?
Me: Mmm? Oh. Erm. Fine. Aaah. Yourself?
Cashier: Ohhh. You know meee….
I don’t.
Me: Right.
Cashier: I just get on with it don’t I?
Perhaps she does. I really don’t know.
Me: Ok.
Cashier: Anyway. What are you like? Have you lost your Boots card again?
Me: It wasn’t mine and-
Cashier: Here you go. [Does some weird thing with a pretend loyalty card and laser scanner then hands it to me] All set now. You know I take care of you. See you later yeah?
I leave the chemist feeling slightly befuddled and raise my eyebrows at a Random Woman who smiles at me like she knows me. I proceed to the newsagent for my cigarettes.
Newsagent: Thought you’d quit HAHAHAHA!
Me: Ehm. No.
I've never laid eyes on him.
Newsagent: You must need these with your ‘not stressful’ job HAHAHAHAHA!
He has appalling halitosis and I wish he were not laughing so hard. In my face.
Newsagent: ‘Spose you’re just glad to HAVE a job the way things are going at your place HAHAHAHA!
How does he know where I work and what I do for a living? I pay for my cigarettes and leave my new best friend the Newsagent. Upon arriving at the door of my building I hold the door open for another Random Woman.
“Thanks Tired.” She says. How does she know my name?
I walk down a long corridor grinding my teeth. Yet another Random Woman is heading toward me.
Random Woman: [As if she’s known me for years] What’s the weather like out there?
Me: [Feeling sure she could have utilized a little-known device called ‘a window’] Oh. Erm. Not raining. Not cold.
RW: Brilliant! HAHAHAHAHA!
Me: Ok.
I get back to my office with some relief. Everyone here has known me for years – there will be few pleasantries. Thank God.
I think for a bit. I’m a rational man, but it can only be. There is some sort of ‘anti-me’ out there, being all ‘friendly’ and ‘gregarious’ all over the place and making strangers think they can talk to me as if they know me.
This will not do. And I have absolutely no idea how to fix this. I can’t be stuck in some sort of hell-hole of casual cheerfulness with people I don’t care about. That would be awful. What if everyone starts thinking I’m ‘approachable’? Christ.
I sit at my desk.
Blonde Colleague: Did you get…… you know.
Me: There you go.
BC: Did you get my deodorant too?
Me: *SIGH* Yeah. Here.
BC: What the fuck is this?
Me: [Squinting at the can] ‘Cotton Flower’.
BC: Cotton fucking Flower? I’m a ‘Sensual Blossom’ girl!
Me: They didn’t have any.
BC: Did you ask?
Why do women always say that?
Me: No I didn’t ask. Do you know why? Because it’s not important to me. I’d have got some ‘Unbearable Hermaphrodite Who Keeps Forgetting To Take Her Mood Stabilisers’ but they were all out of that as well. Should I have asked if they had also stockpiled that in a secret location purely to annoy you?
BC: What?
This could go either way. We both start cackling at each other. It’s fine.
I instantly feel better and stop worrying about the doppelganger. No matter how hard he tries to fool people into thinking that I’m an acceptable person, die-hard bastards like this will never have the wool pulled over their eyes.
Lunchtime today; I am in the chemist purchasing some sort of treatment for Blonde Colleague’s ‘water problems’ as she doesn’t like to answer the searching questions regarding her ‘lady-plumbing’ whenever she has to buy it. I am not fond of strangers thinking that it is I who have a urinary-tract infection, but this seems to be a moot point.
Cashier: So how are you anyway?
Me: Mmm? Oh. Erm. Fine. Aaah. Yourself?
Cashier: Ohhh. You know meee….
I don’t.
Me: Right.
Cashier: I just get on with it don’t I?
Perhaps she does. I really don’t know.
Me: Ok.
Cashier: Anyway. What are you like? Have you lost your Boots card again?
Me: It wasn’t mine and-
Cashier: Here you go. [Does some weird thing with a pretend loyalty card and laser scanner then hands it to me] All set now. You know I take care of you. See you later yeah?
I leave the chemist feeling slightly befuddled and raise my eyebrows at a Random Woman who smiles at me like she knows me. I proceed to the newsagent for my cigarettes.
Newsagent: Thought you’d quit HAHAHAHA!
Me: Ehm. No.
I've never laid eyes on him.
Newsagent: You must need these with your ‘not stressful’ job HAHAHAHAHA!
He has appalling halitosis and I wish he were not laughing so hard. In my face.
Newsagent: ‘Spose you’re just glad to HAVE a job the way things are going at your place HAHAHAHA!
How does he know where I work and what I do for a living? I pay for my cigarettes and leave my new best friend the Newsagent. Upon arriving at the door of my building I hold the door open for another Random Woman.
“Thanks Tired.” She says. How does she know my name?
I walk down a long corridor grinding my teeth. Yet another Random Woman is heading toward me.
Random Woman: [As if she’s known me for years] What’s the weather like out there?
Me: [Feeling sure she could have utilized a little-known device called ‘a window’] Oh. Erm. Not raining. Not cold.
RW: Brilliant! HAHAHAHAHA!
Me: Ok.
I get back to my office with some relief. Everyone here has known me for years – there will be few pleasantries. Thank God.
I think for a bit. I’m a rational man, but it can only be. There is some sort of ‘anti-me’ out there, being all ‘friendly’ and ‘gregarious’ all over the place and making strangers think they can talk to me as if they know me.
This will not do. And I have absolutely no idea how to fix this. I can’t be stuck in some sort of hell-hole of casual cheerfulness with people I don’t care about. That would be awful. What if everyone starts thinking I’m ‘approachable’? Christ.
I sit at my desk.
Blonde Colleague: Did you get…… you know.
Me: There you go.
BC: Did you get my deodorant too?
Me: *SIGH* Yeah. Here.
BC: What the fuck is this?
Me: [Squinting at the can] ‘Cotton Flower’.
BC: Cotton fucking Flower? I’m a ‘Sensual Blossom’ girl!
Me: They didn’t have any.
BC: Did you ask?
Why do women always say that?
Me: No I didn’t ask. Do you know why? Because it’s not important to me. I’d have got some ‘Unbearable Hermaphrodite Who Keeps Forgetting To Take Her Mood Stabilisers’ but they were all out of that as well. Should I have asked if they had also stockpiled that in a secret location purely to annoy you?
BC: What?
This could go either way. We both start cackling at each other. It’s fine.
I instantly feel better and stop worrying about the doppelganger. No matter how hard he tries to fool people into thinking that I’m an acceptable person, die-hard bastards like this will never have the wool pulled over their eyes.
posted by Tired Dad at
7:52 pm
11 Comments:
Why is it not important to you? If a girl needs 'Sensual Blossom' that's what she needs.
Maybe all your new 'friends' are a bit fearful - you know, because of your murderous intent...
There's absolutely nothing wrong with 'Cotton Flower'
I AM NOT A MURDERER.
Too much time between posts for there not to be a hint of foul play.
And there's not much right with 'Cotton Flower' either. Unless you're 12.
It's obvious. When you go about wrapped up in your own (not murderous, we hear you) thoughts, not paying attention to your surrroundings, your inner "nice" self comes out...Shame there isn't a font for sarcasm.
You could really fuck with that Doppel Dude's life. Make those people hate him.
Oh got, I hate scented deodorants. They smell of "I'd stink of BO if I didn't pong of this instead" - nasty cheap artificial smells.
And I wouldn't have asked you if you'd asked, because I'd know perfectly well that you'd have been told that if it wasn't on the shelf they didn't have it.
I despair of women and I can only apologise to you on their behalf. Not that I actually care either, you understand.
WTF is a cotton blossom and how do they smell?
Here we have things that smell of "Fresh Rain" (as opposed to stale rain?) and "Spring Splendor"
Which I hope refers to the season and not to coiled metal.
Maybe your evil twin is the murderer?
Ignore all that.. I want to know exactly how the cashier in Boots takes care of your doppleganger :-)
Em: *sigh*. I do have things to do you know. And she has the temperament of a twelve-year old so it seemed suitable.
PB: I have no inner 'nice' self, so this is still a puzzle.
E: That is what I unconsciously spend most of my time doing but it doesn't seem to work.
Z: I hear you.
S: It actually smelt of freshly-ironed cotton shirts which is not the worst thing in the world in my opinion. But not if you're a 'sensual blossom girl' I suppose.
Debs: Aaargh.
Furtheron: My God. Are you suggesting that the Boots cashier is 'taking care' of my alternative self armed with a basket of staff-discounted ointments and ungents? Christ.
He's a pussycat really. I met him and he was really kind and helpful.
It was you wasn't it?
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