I have a thing for guys in uniform. Any uniform. It can be as simple as the car mechanic's standard of navy pants paired with a short-sleeved button-up shirt. And of course the name patch that says Bob or Fred or Manny.
Back when I still bought American, the service guy at the dealership caught my eye. We'll call him Manny, mainly because, for the life of me, I can't remember his real name. He didn't work on cars anymore. He had been promoted to the level where he checked customers in and out and gave orders to the guys who did the real work. His hands were always clean. Not a speck of grease tarnished his uniform.
I flirted with Manny whenever I took my car in for service, which I did in strict accordance with the maintenance schedule provided when I bought it. Manny was always completely professional. He was pleasant, funny, and helpful, like the time he got me a free paint job after I commented that the paint on my hood was looking rather sickly. It turned out the paint on that year's model was defective so it was completely covered under my warranty. Not once did Manny flirt back so I decided he simply wasn't interested. C'est la vie.
Then one day Manny called out of the blue and asked me if I'd like to have a drink after work. "Sure!" I replied, trying not to sound too eager. I'm fairly certain I failed miserably on that count, but what the heck. I met him at a local tavern, completely mystified as to why he suddenly called me when he had always appeared completely uninterested. I couldn't just up and ask him, of course. It turned out I didn't have to. As our drinks arrived, he started talking about something "really great" he was into. He talked and talked while I listened patiently, interjecting "no kidding" and "that's great" at the appropriate intervals until I finally realized he was talking about Amway. And there was my answer. That's why he asked me out for drinks, only it wasn't a date. It was a sales call.
I tuned out for a while to contemplate the absurdity of my situation. Here I sat with a man I found attractive who knew I found him attractive. I mean, how could he not? I didn't quite throw myself at him at the dealership but flirting is flirting and my subtlety is of the hit-them-over-the-head variety. Did he have any idea how humiliating this was for me? Did he consciously say to himself, "I need to recruit sales people for my pyramid scheme. Sheila's bright and verbal and I can tell she's attracted to me. Ill ask her out, knowing she'll say yes, and then I'll give her my pitch over drinks." If so, did he think I wouldn't figure it out? Did he think I wouldn't be offended by his guerrilla tactics? What kind of insensitive, manipulative, self-centered salesman...?
Ah...salesman. Got it. It all fell into place for me at that point so I tuned back in to hear him describe the part where he has to recruit people to work under him and what a great opportunity that would be because it's such a great company/product/blah blah blah. I was very polite. I wasn't even angry. Not really. I was more resigned, the way you get after years of having men decide what you can do for them and then not looking any farther. Not seeing you as a person with a brain and humor and, god forbid, feelings.
I finally laughed and said, "So that's why you asked me out tonight."
Manny stopped talking and looked confused.
"You want to recruit me," I said.
Now he looked panicked, like I'd just caught him with his hand in the cookie jar. "Uh...uh..."
"I wondered why you called me out of the blue for drinks when you seemed so uninterested before," I said and smiled a benign smile, with one last hope that I might be wrong.
No such luck. I don't remember the rest of the conversation, just that it was pleasant and he did not correct my assumption about why he asked me out. Nor did he apologize or indicate in any way that he was even aware he might have squashed my feelings. Suffice it to say I left shortly thereafter.
I did wonder if maybe I got it wrong. Maybe he was shy and that's why he didn't respond to my flirting at the dealership. Maybe he was a nervous talker and launched into his Amway spiel for lack of anything else to talk about with an attractive girl he didn't know very well.
Alas, I give people way too much credit. In a bizarre end to the Manny story, I took my car in for service about a month later. There was no sign of Manny, but that wasn't unusual since it was a large dealership and there was more than one service rep. Later that day, the dealership called to tell me my car was ready for pick up. The woman said her name was Jill. She was perky and professional and said, "You know, Manny's Jill."
Manny's Jill? I didn't put it together at first. Was she saying "Manny's Jill" to indicate "I work with Manny"? No, that can't be. She already identified herself as working for the dealership. A few beats later I realized "Manny's Jill" translated as, "Manny's girlfriend."
And there it was. Her tone was humorous, like wasn't it all really funny? I wondered if she and Manny had shared a laugh about how ridiculous it was that I actually though he was asking me out on a date. Was she the vindictive sort who thought it would be funny to rub my nose in the fact that he had been in a relationship so the idea that he would ask me out was ludicrous? What a bitch. And so perky!
I was surprised to discover the thought of the two of them laughing about me didn't hurt my feelings. Okay, maybe it hurt a little. But what it actually did was make me thankful. Thankful that I turned out to be the kind of person who doesn't find amusement in the discomfort of others. I wished them a long and prosperous relationship. Preferably a tumultuous one, with substance abuse problems, impaired children, and the tragic death of a loved one at an early age.
Hey, I never said I couldn't be a vindictive bitch myself. I just choose not to be most of the time.
