First... We moseyed over to Golden Acres to drop off our application and the encounter was only slightly better than your average visit to the DMV. There must be something about my appearance that's off-putting to fat large-ish, frumpy plain, quasi-civil servants of the female sort.
I introduced myself, explained why I was on her premises and then asked the lady if she would kindly look over my app to make sure everything was filled out properly. She agreed to do so with only a slight shrug of her shoulders and a "what the hell, I don't have anything better to do" sort of expression. Her eyes narrowed when she got to the income section, whereupon she looks up and sez "you probably make too much money to live here." "Probably?" sez I, inferring that this sort of thing is an absolute -- either I do or I don't -- so let us not mince words. "Well, probably," sez she, yet again. "Your income would 'probably' be too high for a one-bedroom apartment but you'd 'probably' qualify for a two-bedroom at the maximum rent, which is still cheap."
Uh... OK. I make too much to live in a one-bedroom place but I could live in a two-bedroom place... with extra room I neither want nor need... displacing someone else who makes less but who might need the room? That makes a lot o' sense... But I forget: this IS a quasi-gub'mint organization we're dealing with here. So we have about another three or four minutes of friendly chat (on my part, at least) and then I pick up my things and go. I wasn't too impressed... can you tell?
Then... We stop by the IGA and pick up a couple o' gallons of water for to make the coffee, that bein' our sole purchase. Some smart-ass high school dropout bagger-boy asks me if I "need help with these? I can carry them to your car for you." "Ummm... no thanks. I'm good," sez I.
I could... and prolly should... be charitable and assume the boy was just tryin' to help. But that brief exchange rubbed me the wrong way, coming hard on the heels of my encounter with the fat lady who didn't sing. So, not only do I make too much money for an ol' retired geezer but I appear to be too fucking frail to carry two gallons of water across the parking lot.
Dang. What IS it with people today?
Third... Just in time to break today's string of unpleasantness... we had a brilliant experience at my Local Likker Locker. "Ah... Samuel Adams Summer Ale, excellent choice!" sez the clerk as I'm checking out. So there's that and it DID take the edge off. Somewhat.
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