So my dad had to go to Macy's for an outfit for a funeral today, and I was in my school uniform. White Oxford, gold/blue striped tie, khakis, etc. All messy, untucked, loosened, unbuttoned, exactly like I got out of school.
I also have my pocket radio on me, earbuds in, following my dad around, leaning on everything as lazily as I can, because I just finished my mid-term exams and I'm worn out.
In short, I look absolutely unprofessional.
So a group of women see me hanging on to a shirt rack for dear life, mouthing the words to "Flagpole Sitta", and they ask me some question I don't understand. Then they go wide-eyed, and start giggling and run away. I realize what happened, go back to my Harvey Danger.
It happened again. An elderly gentleman caught me tapping the guitar rhythm to "Brown-Eyed Girl" by Van Morrison, and asked me if I worked there. Wrong again. He left.
Not sucky, but really, even if I did work there, I was being a real slob, do you really want me to help you?
I also have my pocket radio on me, earbuds in, following my dad around, leaning on everything as lazily as I can, because I just finished my mid-term exams and I'm worn out.
In short, I look absolutely unprofessional.
So a group of women see me hanging on to a shirt rack for dear life, mouthing the words to "Flagpole Sitta", and they ask me some question I don't understand. Then they go wide-eyed, and start giggling and run away. I realize what happened, go back to my Harvey Danger.
It happened again. An elderly gentleman caught me tapping the guitar rhythm to "Brown-Eyed Girl" by Van Morrison, and asked me if I worked there. Wrong again. He left.
Not sucky, but really, even if I did work there, I was being a real slob, do you really want me to help you?





I told the woman that I must really be looking unsuccessful today.

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