Misfit

So at work there's this new girl named Ashley. She doesn't work in our cell, since we never seem to get any new people, but she's done work for us -- including doing the sub-assembly on rear sights -- while her new cell is getting up and running. I won't say she's really an attractive girl -- she's really tall and super skinny, kind of gangly, and her eyes seem to look both ways at the same time -- but I hope when saying that you consider the source (as I'm not known for being shallow or overly looks-oriented) and just take that at face value. She is, however, a really sweet girl. Just to chime in here: she is married, so it isn't even that sort of thing. She's just very nice. And there is a certain cuteness about her despite what I've already said.

Others in the cell aren't quite so gracious in their appraisal, though, and Cooter I'm looking right at you when I say that. He always goes well out of his way, egregiously so, to point out how ugly he thinks she is, as though that impresses me or something, going as far as to call her "the Bride of Frankenstein." Now, I don't know what movie he's been watching, but she looks nothing like Elsa Lanchester whatsoever. She really seems more giraffe-like to me. But that is the nickname he's decided to stick with. Whereas I come up with Tigger and Pooh Bear, that's the sort of thing he comes up with, so again we aren't really in sync.

But he is really vicious of his criticism of her (not to her face, of course), to the point where it causes two reactions in me:
1) it makes me want to punch him in the head even more than I usually do.
B) it causes me to be even more nice to Ashley than I would have been anyway.

And to be sure, I am very nice to her. Working for our cell is very much like being thrown headfirst into the shark tank with a bleeding leg, and we can be a rough bunch of assholes, and even though an asshole I may indeed be at times, I am just the same usually thought of as "the nice one". As that is the case, I've become the go-to person for Ashley regardless of whether or not the question she has is one that applies to me and what I do at all. If she needs more rear sight parts she comes to me for them rather than Jim, for instance. And the other day she needed me to check the oil in her car for her after work, instead of going to any of the departement gearheads. It is thought among the others that she *likes* me, and that could be the case -- I don't know -- but she's married so it's a moot point anyway.

It's been pointed out to me in the past (to be honest, it was pointed out of Libby, but let's not split hairs here) that I have a tendency to stick up for the underdog, which I think is pretty accurate. And I do tend to adopt the misfits here and there, too. Back at FMC, for instance, I used to always be extra nice to Kathy M, because even though she wasn't the best worker in the world I always thought that people dumped on her way too much. So I was always nice to her. And especially if Jayme was on the crew that day, because Jayme can be just plain mean. On nights I always had to save Trevor from Justin, who could also be just plain mean. And in the early days I had to constantly save Casey from Meredith, who ... well, you know. I even had to intervene numerous times on Krysten's behalf to save her from Jacquie. I did this kind of thing at LSI, too, and that behavior continues on.

Even if that wasn't true, I'd be extra nice to Ash just to spite Cooter. Because, seriously, boy, have YOU looked in the mirror lately? I'm no Russell Crowe, but you are one funny looking roly-poly short fat round motherfucker, kid.

*****

Also today at work I got to be a complete asshole, and as a bonus it was to someone I don't even know. I'll tell you the story.

The other day at the end of the shift we were all standing around waiting to leave. Christy was over at her locker talking to someone. The rest of us were gathered over by the aisle. This new kid in the 10/22 line came by with his team leader Dave, who was assigning him a locker. All the lockers are over by us, so he walked right by Christy on the way. On his way back by Christy he stopped almost dead, turned his head completely sideways, and gave her the once over twice. Then while leaving the aisle he looked over his shoulder at her leeringly at least twice. I was the only one who saw it. She didn't even notice.

Since then, everytime this kid (he's like 18 tops) walks by our cell he gives her the same once over twice, and it's so blatant and obvious that it amuses me to no end. I mentioned this to Cooter, and told him to watch this, and he saw it, and it cracked him up. So all day today he kept urging me to tell Christy about her secret admirer. I decided that it would be funnier not to tell her, but to tell Jim (our department's smiling asshole) instead. So then Cooter urged me to get the ball rolling, and I kept putting it off. "It's all timing," I said. The time would come.

On our way out that kid was in front of us in the hallway. So I said to Jim, "See that kid right in front of Cooter?" "Yeah." "That's Christy's secret admirer." Then I described what I'd repeatedly seen. Then we were all down by the clock to swipe out. The kid was no more than four feet away when Jim said, "Yeah, that Christy. She's a real looker." Cooter almost fell on the floor. The kid looked over his shoulder and gave Jim the evil eye (Cooter described it as "the look of death"; I didn't see it myself). I was off to the side non-chalantly smiling out of the side of my mouth. Tomorrow he's almost certain to tell Christy, who will then probably come to me and want the whole story, which I'll gladly tell her.

Earlier she and I did have this exchange.
"So is she (Ashley) your girlfriend or something?"
"No. She's married anyway."
"Oh ... Yeah, well when does THAT ever matter?"
"It doesn't really."
"Yeah. See?"
(that wasn't aimed at me specifically, btw. she doesn't know my history well enough to make that jab. she's talking about guys in general)
"It wouldn't be the first time, either."
"You and her?"
"No, the married thing."

And then she was *shocked*. I'm sure she would have pressed me for the rest of the story there, but we both got distracted by other things ... and hopefully she'll forget about it.

She probably will anyway when the fact of her secret admirer comes up.

Outside, that kid went one way and we went the other. Cooter said something about his Corn Flakes being shat in (except he didn't say that; Cooter isn't clever enough to crib from Kevin Smith), and I replied, "Yup. And it's pretty much all my fault."

It isn't everyday I get the opportunity to be Mr. Niceguy and a complete dirtbag during the course of the same shift.

I kind of like it.