Errata (2)

It seems to me that blogging is like nearly everything in life: just showing up is 80% of the battle. So here I am showing up for the second day in a row.

Sometimes (rarely) Cheryl will ask me how work was at the gatehouse. Usually it's really boring and I spend most of the time reading, writing or watching tv. Other times it's not so boring and I spend time helping old men with broken arms re-situate themselves in their favorite reclining chairs while a portion of their scrotum hangs out (See previous post about Home Healthcare.)But also a lot of my time there is taken up by having completely meaningless exchanges with some of the residents of the community. At these times it occurs to me that not only am I an "Entry Attendant" (please note the fact that anything resembling security is absent from not only the job's title but also the job's description) (please also note that "Entry Attendant" seems like a euphemism for a porn star) but I am also a kind of surrogate friend: someone to "shoot the shit" with. What's interesting is that it isn't only old and lonely people who see me this way. There's this one guy who's probably about my age; he's definitely between 25 and 30. All this guy seems to do is workout and drive around. (He once told me, and this is verbatim: "All I do is workout and drive around. I don't care. That's what I like to do.") It also seems that the other thing he likes to do is engage me in meaningless conversations, such as:

Guy: How's it goin?
Me: Oh, it's really exciting here. [For whatever reason, I'm very ironic and dry with this guy and he doesn't get it at all, which kind of makes it better.]
Guy: That sucks. I just got done working out.
Me: It looks like it. [This is the other thing I do with this guy: say things that come off as possibly homosexual. I do this because you can tell he's one of these guys who gets very squeamish and uncomfortable with borderline homosexual comments and people and thus it is a way to insure that my exchanges with him are very short.]
Guy: [while flexing triceps of arm that is on steering wheel] Yeah, I guess so. I got a question for you.
Me: OK?
Guy: Do you know where any good clubs are? To meet chicks?
Me: I only party in South Beach. Lauderdale's for hacks. [And of course I haven't been in SB for like 4 years and I certainly never "partied" there. And calling Fort Lauderdale just "Lauderdale" apparently signifies you're really cool and hip and with it.]
Guy: That's what I hear. What clubs you go to down there?
Me: Wherever it's hot. [What the fuck does this even mean? Guess what: doesn't matter because he seems to know what it means.]
Guy: I hear ya.

Then he pulls away. Conversations like this happen 2 to 3 times a shift with this guy because all he does is drive around. What's great is that I change my persona at will with this guy and he either doesn't care or doesn't even notice. Awesome. So like sometimes I'll say things like: "After work I'm going home and helping out my wife with this wreath she's making for our front door. Do you know if I can find any pine cones around here?" or "After work I'm going to my Salsa dance lesson. It's a blast."

The best exchanges are with older residents who feel that we in the gatehouse are in fact there for some type of traditional security purpose. This happened Monday:

Resident: [After hinking horn to get my attention b/c I was reading.] There's some kids playing soccer in the parking lot behind Building A.
Me: Really?
Resident: Yes.
Me: OK.
Resident: Don't you think the ball will hit a car?
Me: Maybe. Depends how good they are.
Resident: You should go tell them to stop.
Me: I'm not authorized to leave the gatehouse.
Resident: Why not? I thought you were security. What kind of security guard can't leave the front gate?
Me: Actually, I'm an "Entry Attendant" not a "Security Guard." [I do the air quotes around the job titles to show they are actual titles.]
Resident: So what exactly do you do?
Me: I let people in.
Resident: So who can I call? This needs to be taken care of.
Me: [Laughingly and shoulder-shruggingly] The police?
Resident: [Squints eyes at me. Pulls away.]

This was a worthless read. I apologize.