Pookie face...

There’s this chick I occasionally have to ring in line with the current job I’m working at. I ring her to say this car or that is ready for pick up. Her response? Thanks sweetie, possum, gorgeous girl, princess lovely. Nah, she’s never met me. She’s one of those gaggable women. Patronizing with a capital P for prissy and perfect and ponce-head. I’ve sussed her out. My normal response would be to advise her to stop the sweetie-baby-doll-pookie-face-language. Stop it now. With her? No point. She sees herself as a cute kewpie doll everyone loves. The shut-the-fuck-up strategy would just bounce off the aura of fakeness she hides behind. She sees people as things and not individuals and in many ways it’s pretty sad. Telling her she’s a patronizing sod is a waste of my time and I feel sorry for her as she’ll never get to know anyone for who they really are. So, my plan is to pookie-face-baby-doll-gorgeous-sweetie-darling her back until she vomits. It's only fair.

Darlin’….

I was standing in the butcher shop, looking like a drowned rat after swimming, and the butcher was all flirty and calling me ‘darlin’. Weirdly enough if any other man, who I didn’t know, called me ‘darlin’ I would have considered him a patronizing sod. Hmmm…interesting double standard. So what’s that about? Is it because someone who flirts with you over skinless chicken breasts is more acceptable than say a man at work calling you ‘darlin’? Are their different types of flirting that are more appealing? Does workplace familiarity breed contempt? Or is it the lure of a man in a spotless white uniform, a navy striped apron and surrounded by firm hunks of meat is appealing? I will ponder some on it….

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