Thanks... um... Guy...
Okay, so those of you looking for more proof that I am indeed an ass should listen up.
Paul and I have made a weekly ritual out of going to the comic book store. Every Wednesday we saddle up and head out to our usual establishment, a nice little comics shop called Alternate Worlds. It's not the most forward-thinking of places, but the people in there are as nice as they come, and heck, I've been going there for my comics since I was 12. I'm loyal like that. Anyway, Paul and I make a night of it, buying our comics, having dinner, occasionaly doing other shopping, and ending up at Satrbucks for yet another "frapportunity."
"Hey," You're thinking, "certainly this makes you a big nerd, but when do we get to the part where you're an ass?"
Hang in there.
So there's this guy that works at Alternate Worlds, and he's there most Wednesdays. Over the past year or two I've gotten to know him a little. Not know him in the "bosom buddies" sense, more in the "aquaintance" sense. Our conversations tend to stay mainly in the "Did you read the latest Daredevil issue" arena, but I must admit I genuinely like talking to the guy. He's nice, he's articulate, and he's got a good sense of humor. Besides, I don't get to have comic dork conversations much in my daily life.
So I've come to view this guy from the comic store as sort of a friend. I mean, I see the guy every week, we talk about our mutual interests, we joke around, and if he told me he needed a ride somewhere, or a kidney, I'd give it to him.
Okay not the kidney. That was a lie. But the ride? Absolutely.
Today I bumped into him while I was out and about doing my typical Saturday crap. He was coming out of a movie theater and I was like "Hey! There's my friend from the comic store!" And I said Hi and we chatted for a minute. It was very pleasant.
Ready for the part where I'm an ass?
I have no idea what his name is.
He knows my name, I mean it's on my subscription box at the comic store, and it's on my credit card... When he sees me he goes "Hey John!" And I go "Hey..." And I'm thinking "what is his name for the love of Christ what's his NAME??? Why don't they wear name tags here???"
See, because he got my name from my account info, we never had that moment where we actually exchanged introductions. I suppose that's a risk of the retailer/customer relationship. The crappy part is that there was a point where it probably would have been no big deal to stop the conversation and just go "Hey what's your name by the way?" but I missed that point oh... a year ago. Now it just seems insanely stupid that I've been talking to this dude every week for a year and change and still think of him as "The guy with sideburns."
So you see? I'm an ass. I'm a big fat ass. Now you have proof, as if you didn't already know. Every Wednesday I go into that store and think "I'm an ASS." Well no longer. I'm determined to find out this dude's name. Preferably by some underhanded sneaky method that doesn't out me as Turbo-Ass, but I'll just come out and ask him if I absolutely have to.
God I hope I don't have to.
I'm an ass.
More on this exciting story as it develops.
Okay, so those of you looking for more proof that I am indeed an ass should listen up.
Paul and I have made a weekly ritual out of going to the comic book store. Every Wednesday we saddle up and head out to our usual establishment, a nice little comics shop called Alternate Worlds. It's not the most forward-thinking of places, but the people in there are as nice as they come, and heck, I've been going there for my comics since I was 12. I'm loyal like that. Anyway, Paul and I make a night of it, buying our comics, having dinner, occasionaly doing other shopping, and ending up at Satrbucks for yet another "frapportunity."
"Hey," You're thinking, "certainly this makes you a big nerd, but when do we get to the part where you're an ass?"
Hang in there.
So there's this guy that works at Alternate Worlds, and he's there most Wednesdays. Over the past year or two I've gotten to know him a little. Not know him in the "bosom buddies" sense, more in the "aquaintance" sense. Our conversations tend to stay mainly in the "Did you read the latest Daredevil issue" arena, but I must admit I genuinely like talking to the guy. He's nice, he's articulate, and he's got a good sense of humor. Besides, I don't get to have comic dork conversations much in my daily life.
So I've come to view this guy from the comic store as sort of a friend. I mean, I see the guy every week, we talk about our mutual interests, we joke around, and if he told me he needed a ride somewhere, or a kidney, I'd give it to him.
Okay not the kidney. That was a lie. But the ride? Absolutely.
Today I bumped into him while I was out and about doing my typical Saturday crap. He was coming out of a movie theater and I was like "Hey! There's my friend from the comic store!" And I said Hi and we chatted for a minute. It was very pleasant.
Ready for the part where I'm an ass?
I have no idea what his name is.
He knows my name, I mean it's on my subscription box at the comic store, and it's on my credit card... When he sees me he goes "Hey John!" And I go "Hey..." And I'm thinking "what is his name for the love of Christ what's his NAME??? Why don't they wear name tags here???"
See, because he got my name from my account info, we never had that moment where we actually exchanged introductions. I suppose that's a risk of the retailer/customer relationship. The crappy part is that there was a point where it probably would have been no big deal to stop the conversation and just go "Hey what's your name by the way?" but I missed that point oh... a year ago. Now it just seems insanely stupid that I've been talking to this dude every week for a year and change and still think of him as "The guy with sideburns."
So you see? I'm an ass. I'm a big fat ass. Now you have proof, as if you didn't already know. Every Wednesday I go into that store and think "I'm an ASS." Well no longer. I'm determined to find out this dude's name. Preferably by some underhanded sneaky method that doesn't out me as Turbo-Ass, but I'll just come out and ask him if I absolutely have to.
God I hope I don't have to.
I'm an ass.
More on this exciting story as it develops.
posted by CommonWombat at 5:36 PM
2 Comments:
Alternate Worlds is in Columbia, isn't it?
I'm rooting around in your old posts. Just wanted to say I'm more of an ass than you, because I have lots of people I know like you know Comic Store Pat--meaning I know them but don't know their names. In fact, my life is filled with people who are conscientious enough to have learned my name, while I am self-absorbed enough not to bother learning theirs.
So I am the Ass King.
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