Unavoidable Awkwardness

As I cruise the aisles of the surprisingly tawdry local Kroger amidst the endless colors of capitalism bombarding my every orifice similar to what happened to that sweet girl Debbie when she took that infamous road trip to Dallas all those years ago, I am overcome by sheer terror.  I fight the urge to lash out at the Count just because I currently don't care for his knowingly smug grin.  It's like he's telling us he can see through our naive belief that we actually possess the will power to deny his new cerulean flavored Casper-like comrades, we can't.  

Unfortunately for me, the unfathomable dread that has shrouded me like a barbwire blanket has nothing to do with that decadently delicious dickhead, but of the imminent small talk interaction I will inevitably have to undergo with the market clerk.  Now don’t get me wrong, I actually enjoy small talk interactions that involve two parties who both realize that only a few obviously superficial words need to be exchanged. 

For example, just the other day I was at a gas station and the man behind the counter asked if I was a DJ, due to the fact that my t-shirt had a set of head phones around the neck.  At that moment, complete comprehension and understanding of exactly how Johnny Depp felt when the Vegas valet ominously exclaimed to him, “I’ll remember your face” was achieved. 

I was at a crossroads; one path led to an almost definite awkwardness lasting about the time it took the clerk to figure out how to ring up the orange no one ever buys because we’re in a fucking gas station.  Or, the other, albeit more unethical yet less traveled road, is to tell the unsuspecting gentleman that I was in fact a DJ in time that has long since past.  I reflexively chose the latter.  I figured this was the best route in which to avoid an unnecessary awkward exchange, contingent on the fact that I could keep up this inexplicable lie for the next 38 seconds.  I had faith that I chose about as wisely as a German choosing a Grail. 

Unbeknownst to me, this clerk did not buy into the mind numbing programs MTV shards out quicker than day old sesame chicken.  This gentleman's DVR had to of been filled to capacity with Dr. Phil reruns and whatever that  show is called with the 5 shrews sitting in a semi-circle verbally molesting some poor A-lister until the inundated celeb sheds a tear to show they are still alive keeping those couch-conjoined vultures at bay.  (Color commentary on the potential answer is greatly appreciated).  He proceeded to delve into my contrived DJing past, spelunking his way through the ever growing cavernous stories I concocted.  All the while “Inyuk-chuk” was fittingly echoing in my head as I stared at that Apache Chief looking character on the American Spirits poster, making me grin due to the ridiculous comparison of my fabricated past being metaphorically manifested as an obscure Native American superhero.

As I turned to leave I glanced back to make sure the person behind me wasn’t signaling a L7 on his forehead, the clerk gave me an infinitesimal nod as if to say, “You’ll get your groove back B-boy” or whatever the slang used to call retired DJ’s who were never actually DJ’s.  Driving back to my house, not realizing till I pulled into my driveway that I forgot to pump the $8.36 of gas I payed for, I contemplated the lengths I apparently go to avoid an awkward moment with a complete stranger.  The speed in which Spaceball One achieved causing Lord Helmet's brains to go into his feet came to mind.

Chit-chat, a phrase that makes gazing into medusa's stare a completely acceptable choice over having to say "chit-chat" out loud around others, and social pleasantries are an unavoidable yet necessary evil in western culture.  Unfortunately the reciprocation of these necessities is not always ideal due to the fact there are a vast amount of people we, as grounded individuals, have little to nothing in common with, Americans often call them spouse.  Therefore we should not have to be subjected to this extrinsic practice of awkward small talk, unless it being interesting or humorous in its value.

I am not saying, by any means, to abolish common courtesy or simple manners, but for me to have to grudgingly force a fake smile, because I apparently am the spitting image of some guy the CVS clerk went to high school with, is dumber than Asians in roundabouts.  Be nice, not unnecessary.