I’ve talked about being anti-social before, so if you read my blog, you know that I will do whatever it takes to avoid talking to someone… actually, everyone. I’ll walk the long way to avoid certain colleagues at work. I will change my work out schedule because someone I know goes there at the same time. I even stopped going to the close Subway because someone I know works there. I will do whatever it takes to not partake in chit-chat. It really isn’t the other person’s fault (most of the time) but I’m just an awkward, possibly inconsiderate guy to mild acquaintances. But again, if you read my blog regularly, you already know this about me.
I reached my all time low the other day, which has made me rethink my whole perspective when it comes to avoidance. The grocery store I go to has two entrances: lately one side has had a pack of girl scouts guarding it like the bridge troll from The Three Billy Goats Gruff and the other entrance was wide open. Obviously, I enter through the open side. Last time, I entered and strolled through the store undisturbed, without a care in the world. On a side note, I like going to the store because I find it relaxing. My wife finds it to be the opposite; she can’t stand the crowd and the ensuing stress. My only stress comes from the possibility of running into someone who isn’t a close friend.
After I made my purchases, I casually strolled through the exit, forgetting what was waiting for me on the side I choose – the OTHER side! There they were, harassing everyone that dared to pass them. This required a quick reaction and some evasive maneuvers on my part. I noticed the plant section to my right. I knew if I just made a sharp right I could duck into the bushed and then scurry out of there without being seen. Right as my mind made the decision to take action but before my body reacted, I heard, “Sir, would you like to buy some Girl Scout cookies?” Unfortunately, my body reacted after I heard those words, so as she was finishing, my body darted away from her into the bushes. I was avoiding a sweet, innocent little girl – probably – she could be one of those kids that pulls the wings off mosquito hawks. Who knows. I was able to hide behind the shelves of hydrangea bushes when I made my most critical mistake: I looked back. I looked over my shoulder and she was looking at me with a distraught, pathetic face. It melted me. I lost.
“Oh, I didn’t hear you. I just saw this decorative, ceramic, sunglass-wearing armadillo that I just had to have,” I stammered.
I used all of the cash in my wallet to buy cookies.
The very cash I was going to use at Wendy’s.