Toluca Gringa

8,700 feet does more than simply turn you into a cheap date

Thursday, April 12, 2007

The guy who cleans the building just left. He came in to empty my trash can, clicking his tongue at the contents (coffee cups and chocolate wrappers). You're going to get fat, he said.
He introduced himself and took a seat in the chair. Within seconds he had broken into song, comparing some lucky gal to food: I'll never go hungry... You are my nurishment... My perfect fruit. Never before has my personal garbage inspired such a reaction. He followed the food song with another, and then several more until about 30 minutes had passed with me smiling away as he crooned with American Idol style gestures -- hand clutching heart, both hands clutching heart, arms outstretched, arms reaching for the heavens. All of this from the little chair in my office.
The experience has left me wondering how some men escape the creepiness factor. There's always the guy who, no matter what he says or does, is just creepy. Every office has the token creepy guy and no one can ever put a finger on it. A guy can poke is head in my office, say two benign words and make me shudder. Another can sing love songs for thirty minutes and I think nothing of it. How does that happen? You can think about it and let me know. I'm going to get some chocolate. Chocolate is my nurishment, my perfect fruit.