The other day i was on my way to work. part of my usual routine is to stop by maccas and get myself a coffee before i start.
The coffee there is pretty shit, but i don’t have to get out the car. I think that’s a fair trade off.
The drive through chick knows me now. We even make small talk. Well.. she makes small talk. I just smile and nod. Sometimes i throw in a few jumbled up sentences to try and be polite.
She actually asked me if i was gay once. Apparently her friend thought i was cute and wanted to know. I was both flattered and confused. Why the fuck would she think i was gay…
oh right… The bright yellow car…
On Friday night I was quietly shitting my pants.
I had printed off the “death waiver” which listed off all the ways that I could get really fucked up, or die, during the spartan race.
What have I gotten myself into…
Why the fuck didn’t I train…
This isn’t going to end well…
Today I filled my car up with petrol. While I was pumping I decided I wanted to make my interaction with the attendant slightly more meaningful than the usual number, pay and leave routine. People do it all the time. All I gotta to is ask generic questions like “how’s your day?” and “been busy?” Maybe make a comment about the wether or something. Just the usual crap nobody really cares about.
I finished pumping and walked up to the line for the register. There was a lady being served in front of me. She was having a laugh with the attendant about her kids or some shit. She obviously knew how to take this social interaction thing to the next level.
I wasn’t going to be deterred though. Just stick to the plan nathan, it will be fine.
To begin with, I found out that passata is a thing that everybody knows about except me.
There are entire shelves of the stuff…