Okay, I've adopted a set of useful rules to keep me safe while working during the graveyard shift.
Rule Number One:Do not make eye contact with strangers or engage them in conversation.
So one morning, a few months ago, I stopped at the friendly neighborhood Valero gas station for some very important Nacho Time. As I walked in, I noticed this gigantic mass of a man wearing a mesh trucker cap and stuffed into a nastily stained gray T-shirt underneath a red-checkered flannel shirt. He was leaning his massive body over the rectangular cooler filled with iced-down beer and looked like the long-lost identical twin of Billy Pratt who plays Kurt Russell's best friend in the classic 80's cheeseball film, Overboard. Oh, don't even come around here and pretend that you haven't seen that movie, because I know better. I bet you sit around and watch it every time its the Saturday Matinee Movie on TV and mouth the dialogue right along with the characters. (I do!)
Anyway, so I stroll off to the back of the store to get some bottled water and then make my way over to the oozing font of processed nacho cheese goodness when I hear Mr. Hee-Haw bellow out to me in a maddeningly slow Southern drawl, "How you doin, young lady?"
I fervently continued on with my nacho mission and completely avoided his red-eyed gaze as I politely answered, "Fine."
The man still continued to try to chat me up even though my back was to him and I'm obviously blowing him off. Now admittedly, I was dressed in my super sultry 'Where My Peeps At?' T-shirt that I bought for $1.99 at Walgreens Drug Store paired with my seductive Hanes Her Way gray cotton capri pants and crusty Birkenstock sandals. I mean, who can really blame the guy for ogling my divine beauty? Can't nobody work the Manual Laborer Hottie look like I can.
The Valero attendant knows me by name and understands my nacho addiction. He scurried to the back to bring out a dish of fresh jalapenos for me as I stood there waiting, paper nacho tray in hand..
Mr. Hee-Haw actually stood up straight, detaching himself from his beer cooler perch, and excitedly waved his arms around while hollering at me in his mouth-full-of-moon-pie way, "Jalapenos? Now I know it's true. You is the woman of my dreams!!!!"
It became obvious that he wanted to cart me off and make me the Queen of his double-wide trailer. The sound of 'Dueling Banjos' started ringing in my ears. Apparently, Mr. Hee-Haw has very rigid criteria in selecting a woman. I can only imagine his online dating application on the line where it asks to specify his perfect match: "Must Love Jalapenos." It's a bit disconcerting that he identified me as the woman of his redneck dreams. I wonder what the woman of his nightmares must be like? It's probably the saucy server over at Pancho's Mexican Buffet who sternly told him, "I'm sorry sir, but you've eaten every last chili relleno in this place. I'm going to have to ask you to leave now."
As I stood at the register paying, Mr. Hee-Haw attempted one final maneuver......he complimented my awesome red truck and asked if he could go along with me to help throw my paper route.
I'm a heartbreaker. When I screeched an emphatic "NOOOOOO!" at him I could actually hear his ego whooshing out like when you sit down on one of those squishy, padded toilet seats. Ssssssssssssss.
I find it incredibly sad that a guy so old has to resort to trawling for fat, married chicks at a convenience store. His pick-up lines were also incredibly sad. Isn't there a 'Picking Up Women At The Gas Station For Dummies' book that he can consult and take notes?
My Papi thought the whole incident was funny, especially since I had to fend off the amorous advances of the decrepit and ancient Matzo Man just last year. I guess consuming so many spicy jalapenos has made me a red-hot mama; irresistible to all who encounter me. :)