Two Random Acts

So I was out on a couple of errands the other day, and one of them happened to be at Michael’s. As I was rummaging through their wares in my pursuit of Velcro (story in and of itself), I was solicited. This man, somehow assumed that I worked for the store
(maybe it was the black shirt I was wearing, and the tag that said that said Michael’s pinned to my shirt ), and asked me about where he could find something or other (I don’t really remember that part).

I simply told him that I did not work for the store, and was intent on carrying about my business. His response was a strange concoction of placidity and indignation…

“Well, %&*@ you, then.”

To say the least, I was fairly stunned. I would hate to have heard his comments if I would have gotten one of those arts and crafts sticks they sell at Michael’s and started beating him with it, all the while calling him a pinata (my thoughts at the time).

10 minutes later…

This may sound silly, but as I was pulling out of the parking lot, the aforementioned incident was still playing in my head. I thought of a thousand quick and witty retorts that could have given me the one up, but, alas, the reality of it was I was waiting at a traffic light, about to give up my faith in humanity (this happens at least twice a week).

My windows were rolled down, like they usually are, so I can take advantage of the nic SoCal breeze, and it was right outside my passenger window that I heard a voice beckoning to me. Puzzled, I glanced that way, and I beheld an elderly gentlemen sitting inside his car. He pointed down the road where I was about to turn and said…

“Be careful, there’s a cop a couple of blocks down, and he’ll pull you over if you go too fast.”

Even more stunned then my previous encounter, I nodded and told him thanks. He nodded back, and then proceeded to go his way, as the light was now green. That was nice thing for him to do; if what he said was true. As I drove down the road, sure enough, there was one of Burbank’s Boys in Blue on his motorcycle on the side of the road. Scanning. Waiting. And anyone who is familiar with the Burbank cops knows that they WILL pull you over.

So I learned many valuable lessons in that 10 minute rollercoaster of events. While some are obvious, one that sticks out in my mind is the next time I throw a party, I’m inviting the old guy in the car and not the guy I saw at Michael’s; unless I need a pinata. Peace.