LARGETONY Blog

Yesterday was payday. And even better, it started raining just before lunch. It was one of those rains that you could tell was going to last all day, so we got to go home early. That meant we could get to the bank before the Friday rush. This was doubly good because it also meant I could get the deposit in before the cut off time for posting on the same day. For some reason, I had never gotten around to depositing my previous check, so the coffers were getting low.

So I’m standing in line with a co-worker, as well as several other blue-collar outdoor laborers (roofers, carpenters, painters, landscapers, etc.) who apparantly also had their games called due to rain. In front of me was a guy with a kid, who I assume was his son. The kid looked like he was about four or five. I never know about kids, they’re all pretty much the same to me until their voices change. But he looked definitely younger than school age. He was very attached to his father, clinging to the man’s work pants with a nubby little fist.

After a while, my buddy and I had run the course of a recurring conversation about the stalker-girl in our contractor’s office who want in my pants and how he wants in her pants. This is a conversation I have with many of the single (and some married) guys I work with. They all want to bang this girl’s brains out. And they all think I’m nailing her at every opportunity. Truth is, of course, I would rather bang her brother’s brains out (although she doesn’t have a brother). Yet she only seems to show interest in me. She could care less about the guys who she could really get somewhere with. Maybe somewhere deep in her subconscious she knows she’s safe with me and therefore feels secure with her flirting. On second thought, nah. With the presents, the muffins, the plates of food on my doorstep, the “group” dinners where no one shows up but me and her (she big on luring me with food)….she’s a stalker.

Anyway, after our conversation dried up, we stood there in silence. (Why are banks so freaking slow???) That’s when I noticed the kid staring up at me. When he saw me catch his eye, he scooted around the front of his father’s leg for protection. Like I said, he was a small kid, so I probably freaked him out, being the moose that I am. Plus, you know how when you see things from below they look much taller than they are. As many of you know, I don’t have a warm fuzzy fondness for kids. (Kids and cats. And as a cruel joke, God has made me a magnet for both.) But I don’t like to scare them either. (well, maybe cats, I do.) So when I caught his eye again I smiled at him. He relaxed a bit and came out from the other side of his dad’s leg. But still was too afraid to let go of the pants.

The papa finally turned around and said to the kid, “What are you doing?” The kid looked up at me and pointed. The man barked at him “Don’t point at people. How would you like it if I point at you?” Then he stuck his finger in the kid’s face and said “See? You like this?” Seemed like a harsh way to teach the kid that pointing is impolite, so I just chuckled at the guy and said, “It’s okay.” He just glared then turned his back to me and pulled the little boy in front of him. And he’s teaching his kid manners?

A little while goes by. (Why are there only two teller windows open on a Friday afternoon when there are six spaces. And who are all these other people standing around in business suits doing nothing?) The kid gets around behind his father again. He starts yanking on the man’s pants now and calling for his attention. The father turns around and the kid points at me again. “I said stop pointin’!” he snapped at his son. The kid ignored him and pointed at me and chirped, “That man has a muscle.” (I was wearing a sleeveless t-shirt, having just come from work. )

Then the kid spoke to me, “I can make a muscle.” He pulled his sleeve up on his shirt and balled up his chubby fist and “flexed” his bicep with a grunt. I hate to admit it, but it was really kind of cute, what he did. He was real proud so I said, “Well, alright then!”. He grinned as big as anything. His father broke the kid’s moment. “I’m gonna take you out to the back seat,” he warned. I’m not sure what he meant, but in context I think he was threatening a spanking.

Being the nice (and sometimes stupid) guy that I am I tried to smooth it over. “Man, it’s no big deal,” I said. “He’s cool.” Well, that just gave the kid more license (in his mind) to ignore his father. “Can you make a muscle?” he asked me. “Yeah, I can,” I responded. “Make a muscle!” he asked/ordered. I felt a little weird “making a muscle” in line at the bank, so I squatted down next to him so that I was less obvious. I flexed my right bicep (the bigger one ) His eyes got real big. Then he reach out and grabbed on to my arm, trying to squeeze it. He said, “Daddy! Look!”.

The man jerked his kid away from me by the back of the neck and snarled at him, “What did I tell you?” Then he walked out with the kid without even bothering to wait for a teller.
My buddy and I sort of shook our heads about the situation. What a dickhead the father was, I thought. But then my co-worker said that he could sort of see what the father was dealing with, that I had basically challenged the dad’s image: first, by saying that everything was okay when the father didn’t think so could be looked at a questioning of his authority; and second, showing off for the son of an out-of-shape man.

They say that perception is 9/10th’s reality. But I wasn’t questioning his authority, I was just trying to be nice. The same with “making a muscle.” The kid wanted me to, and I was just obliging. If I was showing off, I would have done it as soon as the kid first said something about my arms. It certainly wasn’t about comparing myself to his father. Actually he wasn’t in that bad shape himself. Just different. He was more thickly built where I am leaner. He had big solid-looking arms. Obviously a laborer. He just may have not had definition to “show” a muscle. I don’t know. And is it really my fault if he felt threatened by a remark his kid made? Maybe none of this is even an issue. Maybe he’s just an impatient dick-head.

If I am to be completely honest, it probably had more to do with my ego than anything. I generally would do anything to cut off communication with anyone under teenaged years. But the kid took notice of something I have been working very hard to acheive, and I may have just let my ego get the best of me. Almost all of my life, no matter how good a shape I was in health-wise, I had skinny arms. And now I don’t anymore. So I probably got a little proud when somebody noticed. It’s the same as when I complimented the kid on his bicep. He got so excited. But he’s four or five, and I’m almost thirty. I guess I really should know better.

This entry was posted on Saturday, April 30th, 2005 at 5:03 pm and is filed under being tony. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.