Bricks and Tea

I’ve never enjoyed the phase where people have to talk about petty things to find out if they can get along. In fact, it’s always been a little dreadful.

EXT. – JOB SITE – LIBRARY – DAY

Worker: So, did you see the game yesterday?

Me: Nah. Football?

Worker: Baseball. Dodgers. Big Dodgers fan. So you’re into football then? You got a team?

Me: No.

(long pause)

But I wish I did so we could have something to talk about.

(Worker doesn’t know what my jokes are like yet, and walks off to find something else to do).

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EXT. – JOB SITE – LIBRARY – THE NEXT DAY

Worker: So. You live with a chick or what?

Me: (considers saying “I wish” to establish masculinity) No.

Worker: What part of town do you live?

Me: Northeast heights.

(Long silence. Worker turns to make his bean sandwich.)

Me: But I used to live downtown. You know, close to the zoo?

Worker: Oh, yeah! Cool bro. Didn’t you say you’re in a band? You guys jamming soon?

Me: Yeah!

Worker: You play any Metallica?

Me: No.

(loud breathing)

Do you play anything?

Worker: I play the beer bottle I guess.

Me: I also like beer sometimes.

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Anyway, I got off work early today, so I went to the bank. About a year ago, I thought it would be a good idea to take flight lessons when I didn’t have any real money to pay for it. Today I’m building brick walls to pay it off. So I sat at the bank lady’s desk to ask her about lowering my interest rates, etc. She dialed a number, handed me the phone and walked to another room. After the process of announcing vital steal-my-identity information for the entire bank to hear, I didn’t get to lower my interest rate. That’s because the banks are evil.

After that, I met Sarah at Satellite Coffee where we talked about project mayhem, aliens, and how her chihuahua keeps biting people.