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Fight fire with fire
Oct. 2nd, 2007 10:32 amI have developed a new tactic for dealing with the clipboard patrol. Boring them to death.
Last Friday I was halfway across the zebra crossing from the sushi place (who now actually recognize me, proving that not everyone in Davis Square has their brain erased overnight after all) when I looked up to the pavement opposite me to see a girl in a blue T-shirt with a shining zit-like piercing in her nose and a grin that was several times wider than her face. I had been trapped. She had seen me, eye contact had been made, and being in the middle of the road, I had absolutely no route of escape. Even worse, I didn't have any prepared dismissive things to say. These people are getting better.
But as I approached and she began her prepared speech about what a hard time the MBTA are having with their increased fares and rubbish drivers, I realized that the only way to stop her from speaking to me was to fight back and talk myself. As she handed the standard blue propaganda folder to me (I've no idea what she thought I could do with it, as one of my hands was full of takeaway sushi) I looked at the front and then launched into everything I knew about the issue on the cover, the Big Dig - mostly that bits keep falling off it and hitting people. And then I remembered about the renovations that were happening on the D line, and invited her to talk a bit about those, interjecting with my own thoughts on the buses, then in typical Scottish fashion, started talking about the fare increase and how it was still only a quarter of what I would pay if I still worked in Aberdeen...
It felt slightly cruel after a while, but I was actually trying not to laugh as I thought up more things to say about the T (any incident that I had had in the entire year I've lived here) and droned on and on about them - I found myself unintentionally speaking in a slower, more ponderous voice, which helped a lot as I thought up the next thing to say about the lack of ticket machines on the C line or the drivers that squish you between the doors when you're not expecting it. By this point, in a wonderful role reversal, I could see her eyes darting around to the sides trying to find some means of escape from me. Eventually I ran out of breath, steam and imagination, and she managed to get a word in again. "Well, you're clearly familiar with our issues..."
"I am. Thanks a lot for your time," I said, shook her hand again and walked merrily off before she had a chance to realize what was happening. It didn't save me any time, but it felt fantastically ironic, and besides, that's ten minutes less that she could spend bothering other people that day.
Last Friday I was halfway across the zebra crossing from the sushi place (who now actually recognize me, proving that not everyone in Davis Square has their brain erased overnight after all) when I looked up to the pavement opposite me to see a girl in a blue T-shirt with a shining zit-like piercing in her nose and a grin that was several times wider than her face. I had been trapped. She had seen me, eye contact had been made, and being in the middle of the road, I had absolutely no route of escape. Even worse, I didn't have any prepared dismissive things to say. These people are getting better.
But as I approached and she began her prepared speech about what a hard time the MBTA are having with their increased fares and rubbish drivers, I realized that the only way to stop her from speaking to me was to fight back and talk myself. As she handed the standard blue propaganda folder to me (I've no idea what she thought I could do with it, as one of my hands was full of takeaway sushi) I looked at the front and then launched into everything I knew about the issue on the cover, the Big Dig - mostly that bits keep falling off it and hitting people. And then I remembered about the renovations that were happening on the D line, and invited her to talk a bit about those, interjecting with my own thoughts on the buses, then in typical Scottish fashion, started talking about the fare increase and how it was still only a quarter of what I would pay if I still worked in Aberdeen...
It felt slightly cruel after a while, but I was actually trying not to laugh as I thought up more things to say about the T (any incident that I had had in the entire year I've lived here) and droned on and on about them - I found myself unintentionally speaking in a slower, more ponderous voice, which helped a lot as I thought up the next thing to say about the lack of ticket machines on the C line or the drivers that squish you between the doors when you're not expecting it. By this point, in a wonderful role reversal, I could see her eyes darting around to the sides trying to find some means of escape from me. Eventually I ran out of breath, steam and imagination, and she managed to get a word in again. "Well, you're clearly familiar with our issues..."
"I am. Thanks a lot for your time," I said, shook her hand again and walked merrily off before she had a chance to realize what was happening. It didn't save me any time, but it felt fantastically ironic, and besides, that's ten minutes less that she could spend bothering other people that day.
