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Today at work I was shutting down the sphere and a very pleasant old man approached the desk. "Can I get a drink upstairs?" he asked.
The human brain is flawed in many ways, but I'll give it this: it can assess a million little sensory cues and render a verdict in an instant. So before this guy had finished his sentence, my subconscious had already delivered a flagged message to me that simply said: "NOPE."
It didn't help that the next thing he said, once I'd answered his concessions question, was "Where's that little redhead I was talking to earlier?"
"SEE? I TOLD you he was off," my subconscious said. "This is going to be terrible." Meanwhile my valor, which hadn't caught up to current events drew its sword and howled, "PROTECT THE REDHEAD!"
"The redhead's gone home," I said. ("Oh," my valor said, deflated.)
"Too bad," the creep said. "She was very intelligent. But I guess you are, too, with this job?"
I muttered a few things about how we all pick up a lot at this job. He nodded, then, apparently finding this a natural segue, inquired in that same pleasant chatty tone, "Are you a gay girl?"
"... what?"
He repeated it. He had, indeed, asked if I was "a gay girl."
I have often said that if I came with a warning label, it would be "CAUTION: ANSWERS QUESTIONS." I'm like some kind of weird genie, bound by my own inscrutable nature to automatically answer any question put to me. And sometimes I will answer questions I find implicit, and god dammit I will KEEP answering them, I will answer the HELL out of them, until everyone begs me to STOP FUCKING ANSWERING.
Which is why it came as a surprise to me when, upon being asked this question, I took a second to suppress that first impulse. Instead what I said was: "That is an inappropriate question."
I did not get offended or angry. This guy was not that kind of creep. He was the kind of creep you get when something has gone measurably wrong with their brain, with all of his body language screaming "HI! I HAVE NO IDEA HOW CREEPY I'M BEING!" And the guy seemed genuinely surprised and distressed when I told him that. He apologized profusely and explained that he has no problem with gay people, he has gay friends, it's okay with him even when they kiss and stuff, he just wondered, etc..
"That's nice," I said. "But that's still not a question you just up and ask somebody."
He mumbled a few more things and then I politely told him that I had Things To Do Elsewhere--gotta return the equipment upstairs, check on the dome, feed the triceratops, whatever. He wandered off.
I have no idea if he'll take that to heart, but I walked away oddly proud of myself. Usually encounters like that make me feel creepy, but this time I was thinking, "I said the EXACT RIGHT THING! Go me!"
I hope the creepy old guy has someone to take care of him. I hope he actually heard what I said. And I sure as hell hope he doesn't come slurking back around, because if he my valor's still got its sword ready. Ain't nobody gonna creep out our Redhead and get away with it.
Fun Discussion Topic: What do you think prompted him to ask that? I did have a flannel shirt, a short haircut, and a rainbow chainmaille necklace; I suppose any of those could have suggested it. Or maybe it was how I brushed him off a bit. Or maybe he was Rorschach without his mask on and he feels the need to find this out about everyone? I am really curious about how his brain got there.
The human brain is flawed in many ways, but I'll give it this: it can assess a million little sensory cues and render a verdict in an instant. So before this guy had finished his sentence, my subconscious had already delivered a flagged message to me that simply said: "NOPE."
It didn't help that the next thing he said, once I'd answered his concessions question, was "Where's that little redhead I was talking to earlier?"
"SEE? I TOLD you he was off," my subconscious said. "This is going to be terrible." Meanwhile my valor, which hadn't caught up to current events drew its sword and howled, "PROTECT THE REDHEAD!"
"The redhead's gone home," I said. ("Oh," my valor said, deflated.)
"Too bad," the creep said. "She was very intelligent. But I guess you are, too, with this job?"
I muttered a few things about how we all pick up a lot at this job. He nodded, then, apparently finding this a natural segue, inquired in that same pleasant chatty tone, "Are you a gay girl?"
"... what?"
He repeated it. He had, indeed, asked if I was "a gay girl."
I have often said that if I came with a warning label, it would be "CAUTION: ANSWERS QUESTIONS." I'm like some kind of weird genie, bound by my own inscrutable nature to automatically answer any question put to me. And sometimes I will answer questions I find implicit, and god dammit I will KEEP answering them, I will answer the HELL out of them, until everyone begs me to STOP FUCKING ANSWERING.
Which is why it came as a surprise to me when, upon being asked this question, I took a second to suppress that first impulse. Instead what I said was: "That is an inappropriate question."
I did not get offended or angry. This guy was not that kind of creep. He was the kind of creep you get when something has gone measurably wrong with their brain, with all of his body language screaming "HI! I HAVE NO IDEA HOW CREEPY I'M BEING!" And the guy seemed genuinely surprised and distressed when I told him that. He apologized profusely and explained that he has no problem with gay people, he has gay friends, it's okay with him even when they kiss and stuff, he just wondered, etc..
"That's nice," I said. "But that's still not a question you just up and ask somebody."
He mumbled a few more things and then I politely told him that I had Things To Do Elsewhere--gotta return the equipment upstairs, check on the dome, feed the triceratops, whatever. He wandered off.
I have no idea if he'll take that to heart, but I walked away oddly proud of myself. Usually encounters like that make me feel creepy, but this time I was thinking, "I said the EXACT RIGHT THING! Go me!"
I hope the creepy old guy has someone to take care of him. I hope he actually heard what I said. And I sure as hell hope he doesn't come slurking back around, because if he my valor's still got its sword ready. Ain't nobody gonna creep out our Redhead and get away with it.
Fun Discussion Topic: What do you think prompted him to ask that? I did have a flannel shirt, a short haircut, and a rainbow chainmaille necklace; I suppose any of those could have suggested it. Or maybe it was how I brushed him off a bit. Or maybe he was Rorschach without his mask on and he feels the need to find this out about everyone? I am really curious about how his brain got there.
