“You’re an idiot,” said the 15 year old girl wearing shin guards and the stink of suburban youth angst.
What did I do to deserve this? All I did was not tell her the location of a scavenger hunt item. That’s it and that’s all.
Was I an idiot? Surely not, just dedicated to the game my employer forced me to play. Certainly, I am no stoolie, no pigeon, no backstabbing Fredo Corleone. She did not know it was me, nor did I break her heart.
If I just gave the location of the item, I would be selling out the 800 other menstruating teens hunting with a ferocity most velociraptors would envy. Does this make me an idiot? No, ma’am. Maintaining my integrity makes me a winner in the game of life. I am the metaphorical blue peg in the plastic car, and I have trucked my way past the “lose the lottery, go back two spaces” dangers of the journey, finding myself at the finish line, pretend 401K and retirement beach house in pocket. I did not sell out, I have won. I am no idiot, madam. Your name calling is unwarranted.
If anything, call me an unbending figurehead drunk with power. I have your fate in my massive hands. That is, that particular type of fate that decides whether or not you win a Muse cd, which may or not be a good thing, depending on if you apprecate cock rock and falsettos that go on for what seems like 10 minutes.
Perhaps I am doing you a favor by keeping you from “find the hidden fork” glory. That’s right, “find the hidden fork.” This particular hunt is for cutlery. Normally, pre-teen girls do their best to avoid silverware and hearty portions, but you do not see the irony here.
But yet, maybe you’re better off not succeeding. You’re probably a Vanessa Hudgens fan, but not the currently popular “missed her last bikini wax apointment” Vanessa Hudgens.” You find her lack of humility shameless, and heartily prefer the “I play a nerd, even though I’m 16 and hot” Vanessa Hudgens.” You don’t need a Muse CD, which is certainly more like the naughty Vanessa. Just take High School Musical 2, where VH is still clothed and virginal.
But I already know that you’re not buying that, because your unsatiable desire for the Muse, or the triangle pointing toward the promise land “hairstyle” Vanessa likes to sport, has clouded your judgment, forcing you to label innocent bystanders “idiots.”
I’m not sure why I’m even bothering with this self-defense, because you have this unbreakable wall surrounding your common sense gene. You know, the gene that tells you that calling strangers “idiot” isn’t an acceptable thing to do.
Common sense would tell you that I do not deserve to be called an idiot for not giving you a hidden fork. No, no, no. It would tell her that maniacally searching for a hidden fork in a massive retail store is insane. Incredibly, incredibly insane.
Common sense would tell you that I deserve to be called an idiot for buying an iPhone when I make 8 dollars an hour and make 3 outgoing calls a month (perhaps my gene is obscured as well), but certainly not for keeping a fork hidden. Of course, you could definitely call me an idiot for actually hiding a fork and then forcing people to search for it. Then, I would most certainly deserve the nomenclature.
But perhaps I’m not giving this teenager in leg protectors any credit. Maybe you are calling me an idiot for hiding a fork.
If so, I apologize for this unnecessary rant. I was, and still am, an idiot.
You win, madam. You win.