Tuesday, February 23, 2016
Anita @ Just Curious http://btdas.blogspot.com/2016/02/taken-for-granted.html sparked this memory; I’m not sure if I should thank her or not.
OK, the title…This post is about a “friend” I once had who was a salesman in the shipping industry. As you will see, he was not my most favorite person. If you are talking to anyone in the Navy or the shipping industry and refer to their ships as a boat you will be corrected almost instantaneously.
“So, how big is your boat?”
I used to refer to this particular individual as a “Boathead.”
Boathead was the husband of a vague friend of my first wife. He came to find out that I drove to the train station every morning and he had a similar commute. Because of our wives vague friendship, I somehow became Boathead’s personal chauffeur.
The wives seemed to think this was a good idea. Boathead needed a ride, I was going to the station everyday anyway, and we could keep each other company.
My wife did not get that commuting time is time to read the paper, nap, or just get all your cranky out so you can be a human being at work.
Boathead was a pain in the ass. He complained about my beat-up unreliable VW bug on the way to the train, he would not shut up on the train, and he called every evening to coordinate our train schedule for his ride home, a schedule often not to my liking.
“I’m running a little late tonight, you don’t mind do you?”
Boathead was a salesman. His day was basically taking customers to lunch and kissing ass for their business. On the way home I had to listen to what he had for lunch, all paid for on his “Business card” like he was such a big shot. I so wanted to just look him in the eye and say,
“How very impressive, but I’d like to read the paper, so FUCK YOU and your hotshot expense account…Oh and by the way does that expense account credit card work at the gas station on the way home, or for the monthly parking at the train station?”
Believe it or not, I was too nice. I said “um hum” about eighty-seven times a day.
Interestingly enough, when I had something to talk about, he would change the subject to his own big shot life faster then he would say “Ship” if I said boat.
Somewhere along the line after about two years of this delightful commuting arrangement we parted ways. I don’t remember what it was, a change of schedule or change of jobs I don’t remember. I do remember not missing his company.
I did bump into him one day at a local convenience store. We went through the usual small talk. Well he talked, I um hummed a lot. I mentioned that I had moved, (I had upgraded to a new neighborhood, one more hoity toity than his ride grubbing, chump ass, hotshot expense account, crappy house.)
Always the big shot he responded,
“Really! I wish I had known, I’m looking to buy a rental house as an investment. I could have bought your house.”
Sure, what was he going to do, buy a second house with his expense account? Maybe first he should buy a hoopty to get to the train station.
Anyway I just um hummed him one last time and said good bye to his hot shot ass.
* You get the same kind of instant response (plus a short rhyme) if you refer to a rifle as a gun when talking to anyone who was ever in the Army.