Your eyes may be up there, but your name is on your tits

I went to the bank today, as many people tend to do. After filling out my deposit slip and endorsing my check, I went to the counter and was met by a smiling, somewhat pretty teller in her late 20s. We said our hellos and as she was typing away I noticed her nametag. Her first name was easily discernible, a simple c-to-k conversion in the middle of an otherwise normal name. Her last name, however, looked like a damn chemistry equation.

I couldn't have been looking for very long (maybe 5 seconds), as I tried to even phonetically figure out what on earth her name could be, and I was met with an, "Excuse me, sir. Could you stop looking at my chest?" Now, her chest wasn't particularly large, or even exposed beyond a small hint of a flesh triangle at the top of her slightly-opened blouse. As our eyes met, I could tell she was more than a little ticked off, and so I leveled with her.

"I was just trying to read your last name, that's all." An innocent enough mistake, I thought. "No, you were staring at my tits. I saw you eyeing me," she snapped back.

I'm a reasonable person, and if I was staring at her tits, I would've said sorry and hung my head waiting for my balance to be printed. But fuck that. I was legitimately reading. I wasn't about to go down for this.

"Listen, I didn't want to know your name, I didn't really care to be honest. But you displayed it soley for customers to read it right on your breast. Maybe you think it makes you look more friendly. I don't know. You're name is slightly complicated, so it took me slightly longer to read it. If you don't want people staring at you, put your nametag on your face, or put business cards up on the counter like EVERY OTHER TELLER HERE."

At this point, a scene had been made, and the manager had come over to see what the fuss was about, so I told him. "Your teller is accusing me of staring at her breasts when all I was doing was reading her incredibly long and complicated name. If she doesn't want people staring, she should take it off." The manager really didn't know what to say, and by this time my receipt had printed and I was ready to leave.

As I grabbed the little piece of paper, it took everything I had not to say, "You're tits are shit, anyway."

Focus:
When have you been blamed for something that you were absolutely not guilty of? Was it a situation you could easily walk away from, or was it someone else's word against yours and you came off really badly? Was it something serious, or were you caught staring at some tits (or at least in their direction)?

Alt. Focus:
Nametags: they're pretty fucking worthless. I don't need to know my teller's name because it's not going to improve any aspect of my banking experience. Same goes for the person behind the register at the grocery store--or any store for that matter. I cannot think of any time I've ever said, "Hey, thanks (looks down) Cameron, for handing me my change." I can't say I've ever been with or near a person who does and, to be honest, I'd be happier without them. They create a weird expectation to make a fake connection with someone who probably doesn't want to have anything more to do with you than the exchange of money for goods or services and that's it. If they were so important, we'd all wear them. Maybe on hats. How do you feel?

 

Nametags are unnecessary. Case in point: For several months while I worked at a bookstore I wore a name tag that said 'Brian.' In that time period one person commented on it, saying "Oh, Brian is an odd name for a girl!" Granted our nametags hung down a little below our chests and I doubt anyone's eyes made it all the way down there.

 

My work requires all employees to wear a "security badge" with our picture and name on it at all times, so we know who is supposed to be here, and can report suspicious people, but they also claim, "so you all can get to know each other, and put a name to a face."

My company employs 40 people, and everyone knows each other. Therefore they are fucking pointless. But not wearing them enough can supposedly result in termination.

I lost mine last May and haven't bothered to get a new one. Not a single soul has noticed.

 

Alt Focus

I wear one as a bar back and bouncer and I don't mind people calling me by my first name. If nothing else it gives me the "in" to start a conversation with someone. It's also easier to discern "Hey, Viking!" than "Doorman!" or "Barback!" The only think that utterly pisses me off is stabbing myself in the chest with that "safety" (yeah bullshit. Tell that to the hole an inch from my heart and left lung) pin on the back.

 

When I was a summer associate I got handed a project from a mid-level associate on a practice area I knew nothing about (basically any area at that point, but this was a rather esoteric securities issue). I was told I had 2 days to do my research and write a memo to send to Big Evil Hiring Partner. Towards the end of the first day, I get an e-mail from the mid-level saying the deadline has been moved up to about 12 hours away. Awesome. I work my ass off and do the best I can on it, which is admittedly pretty damned bad, and turn it in right at the buzzer.

Then I don't hear back for a whole two weeks, when finally Big Evil Hiring Partner gets around to reading it. I got reamed out in his office in front of the mid-level and another senior associate, and from then on kept getting critiqued for rushing to turn in work early instead of taking my time to do a thorough job.

Fucking bullshit. Though, after that it became really hard for criticism to affect me much.

On a lighter note, one night in one of those bars in Murray Hill that's crowded with post-frat boys, bachelorette parties and loud 80s music (was either Joshua Tree or Mercury), I was walking through the bar when this huge bouncer grabs me by the shoulder and spins me around.

I must have made some sort of fuck face because he could tell by my expression that I didn't do whatever the person he was looking for did.

And one last one. Also while a summer associate, we were out at an after part with just the summers and a couple junior associates, and one of the girls who was notorious for not being able to hold her liquor was off to a particularly rough start and I told her she should slow down a bit. Well, she went running to everyone that would listen to her and told them that I told her she was fat. I mean, she had put on a lot of weight that summer, but I'm pretty sure I never said that out loud. Of course, lawyers being the spineless, overly PC wimps that they are, everyone believed her. Later, when we were working as full associates she accused me of stealing the Hugo Chavez poster out of her office. I would have taken it down, but I wouldn't have stolen it. I would have just slid it behind her filing cabinet where it never would have been found rather than risk being seen with it in the hall. But, someone beat me to it.

 

I was 15 and of course I was a dumb teenager who wasted away his time behind the computer chatting to people on MSN Messenger. A sister of one of my friends added me to her list and always tried to talk to me. And by talking, I meant she was hitting on me. Hard. To this day I almost never realize a girl is into me, even when she's giving off the most obvious signs, but this was clear as day. She was always telling me how good I looked and asking me to come over or suggesting we should go somewhere etc. etc. She was only a year younger than me, so that wasn't the problem. The problem was that she looked a lot like her brother. And by looking a lot alike, I mean she was fat. She had a second chin. So I always declined respectfully by telling her she was nice and all, but just not my type.

But still, I was (and still am) a huge wuss and always replied when she started talking to me instead of blocking her. I just tried to keep the conversation as dull as dish-water. But one day she started her shtick again when I told her that she should really stop doing this. Well, that was my first encounter with the whole 'hell hath no fury like a woman scorned'-thing.

She told all my friends I was desperately hitting on her, but that she constantly rejected me. After that she of course told this to everyone else. So the next day my friends laughed at me, people I didn't knew mocked me as I passed them by and her brother tried to kick my ass. Good times. I didn't really have a reputation or anything, but I preferred being anonymous to being 'that guy that couldn't even score a fat chick'.

I explained to her brother what happened and showed him the conversation-logs. After that I went to their house personally and told her to cut this shit out and tell all her friends she lied about the whole thing. Or else I would print those conversations and hand them out at school. Thankfully, she backed down and I never got bothered about it again. Because I didn't have a printer and I don't think I would have the guts to stand there like an idiot handing out papers containing my MSN-conversations.

Still, I fondly remember the time I stood up to a lonely, fourteen-year old girl.

 

Not really on topic, but effinshenanigans post reminded me of the time I got completely busted staring at some tits. I was working at a liquor store in college and one night this hot chick, probably 30-35, comes into the store all sweaty and hot and sexy. As she was writing her check for whatever she bought, she bent over and exposed everything. And I mean everything. She had a relatively loose shirt on and no bra and nice tits. I just stared down her shirt and got lost in my own little world. It was bad. I could hear her ask me a couple times what the date was, but everything was just white noise at that point and it wasn't registering. She finally stood up, which jolted me out of my trance, and said "excuse me?" in a very accusatory way. I just stammered and kind of apologized, extremely embarrassed. She then bent over into the same position, looked down her shirt and said "Oh shit, I was really advertising all the goods, wasn't I? Not your fault." I'm a dork and said something like "It's better than most ads I see on TV" or something equally dumb. Anyway, she was really cool about it and probably enjoyed the attention. If you're gonna show them off to the whole world, don't get pissed if I look. I wish more girls understood this.

ALT FOCUS: As far as name tags go, I really don't look at them unless I'm in a bar or a restaurant. Calling the bartender/waitress by name seems to get me better service. Plus it's a little flirty but not creepy, which seems to get the waitress to pay more attention to a table full of guys.

 

Alt Focus In high school we had to wear nametags. You got 1 for free your freshman year in high school, after that it was $5 every time you lost one; or if you were a dumbass and left it on your shirt from yesterday instead of putting the magnetic waste of money in your locker, you had a buy a new one, no matter what. I can't even tell you how many tags I had to end up buying through those four years. It was small catholic high school. Less than 2000 kids in the entire school, everyone knew everyones fucking name by the first 2 weeks. They only helped that freshman year for the first week when you were trying to remember everyone's name.

The only time I really look at a nametag is when I get great service for such-and-such place or I get the absolute worst. You get great service, thank them personally and you are more than likely going to get better service and even some nice deals. My phone breaks a lot and I got to know a few of the people at the Sprint repair store; one of the guys sent me a new phone without having to update my contract for another 2 years. If f I get awful service, I smile at the person ask in an oh-so-sweet voice, "And tell me again, what was your name?" And then proceed to find the person above them to tell them to find a better waiter, cashier, or whatever it may be.

 

Two situations come to mind. First happened 2 days ago. I'm walking to the gym and I'm going down the final stretch of street before the entrance. In front of me there is a girl, clearly going to work out, wearing spandex pants. Now she wasn't fat, but she wasn't rocking the kind of ass that mesmerizes you. So I'm walking, head sort of down, shooting a text kind of half paying attention to a car that pulls out ahead in a parking lot entrance. The girl goes around the back of the car, I follow, still texting and follow her to the door of the gym. As she opens it, she turns around, pissy, and says "Why don't you stare at my ass a bit more?" My head snaps up, face full of confusion, and I kind of blurt out "Excuse me?" She just glares and continues on while muttering "pig" or something of that nature. 1) Bitch, you need to spend a lot more time where I am going before I will dedicate an entire stretch of sidewalk to admiring your ass. 2) You're wearing fucking spandex pants, yet you would get pissed if a dude sneaks a peak? I wasn't even embarrassed, but more completely taken aback by her attitude about the whole misunderstanding. What a skank.

The other is a bit more amusing. One Thursday night, 2 of my roommates (Goalie and Foster) and I are sitting around, drinking, watching TV etc... with Foster's girlfriend of almost 2 years. We are all comfortable, she is almost like one of the guys, such and such. Well, she happens to be wearing one of Foster's v necks, and naturally being too large for her, flashes ample cleavage everytime she bends over a bit or leans anywhere. Well I notice this, and move on, I mean, I'm not one to ogle roommates' gfs, especially not in such a situation. But Goalie, being a bit drunker than I, and a bit more shameless and sexually deprived, is clearly enjoy the show. He texts me as such to inform me he can't look away. Well, the night goes on, he continues to gawk. Luckily Foster doesn't notice and/or care, and then Foster's gf and Goalie lock eyes as Goalie is, ahem, admiring her intelligence. He stammers that he is sorry but they are just out there and he has to look. She smirks and says she will flash him if Foster says its cool. Cue Foster suddenly snapping out of his drunk haze with utter confusion and me exiting the room cause it just got way to awkward for everyone. Hmm, retrospectively, that story kind of sucks, my bad.

Alt Focus: Nametags are only cool when you use fictitious names like Thor or Gilgamesh. My buddy once, at a school fundraiser, used "Leslie" as his name, cause he thought it sounded queer and was funny. Well it was funny until a 50 something gay man took an interest in him and wouldn't stop flirting or leaving him along. I think I'll stick with Odysseus moving forward.

 

If you are an adult who wears a nametag as part of your career then you have failed in at least one metric of life.

 

My friends and I make a game out of this, with a specific theme at every party, ballroom dance class (don't judge me), etc. The more outlandish the better. So one might be "Famous Directors" and get "Ingmar", "Akira", "Jean Luc", and "Andrzej" (pronounced similar to "Angie"). Another might be "Famous Athletes" and get "Hines", "Manu", "Vanderlei", and "Lennox".

It's hilarious explaining this to girls, and in the rare instances where they get the reference, it leads to a fun conversation.

Focus-

Back in high school and early in college, I apparently gave the impression of being stoned a lot. To the point where people would ask me if I was high, where I got my weed from, and whether I wanted to light up with them. I have never smoked.

At one point, when I was still taking the Accursed Convict's Bus, Greyhound, we stopped by some fast food, and I was about to cross the street to go to one.

"Man, I can't let you do that...I know you goin' there to get wasted with whatever's in that backpack of yous'" the black driver told me.

After talking to him for a while, he still told me, "Man, if you come back all wasted, I can't let you on". When I come back 15 minutes later, he looks at me with genuine surprise; "Man... I really DIDN'T think you would come back!"

 

Does a namebadge count, because if so, I disagree with that. I seem to have had quite a few jobs that requires that. One I worked in a large telecommunications company and the badge was used to gain entry into the building. When I was a nurse, same thing, but we were actually required to have two so you could have one on each side just in case it swung around people would always be able to call you by name. Ugghh.

 

Personally I would consider what you are referring to as more a swipe or security card and yes they are different.

 

Sophomore year of high school, I was on the verge of flunking geometry (imagine that) which would mean summer school. My brother had just finished his sophomore year of college (engineering) and sat me down for two nights straight and basically taught me an entire year's worth of geometry. Seriously, we sat in the kitchen til 4:00 am both days. I took the final exam, and scored a 98. My teacher accused me of cheating on the exam, though he had no proof (he couldn't, since I didn't), but he contended there was no way I could have achieved that score on the final given my academic performance in his class to date. I explained how my brother tutored me intensely for the past two days, etc. but he remained suspicious and said he was having a meeting with the principle about it. Both he and my father were members of the Marine Corps League, so when I told my dad he accused me of cheating and was making a Federal case of it, he called him and chewed him out as only a Marine Corps DI can. Needless to say, I didn't go to summer school.

I ended up playing a round of golf with him many years later and the subject came up again, and at that point, he was finally convinced I had been honest and he apologized.

I never was much for math, and I always look for the path of least resistance, but I'm no cheat.

As for nametags, I find the older I get, the more I appreciate them. Especially with some of the crazy, unique names some younger people have these days. If I don't repeat it upon meeting them, it just doesn't register.

 

I was accused on Saturday of stealing a coworker's $3 tip. Yes folks, apparently I am so desperate I would risk my job for three fucking dollars.

Saturday I get hauled into a meeting with another coworker and we both are informed that we are "busted, REDHANDED" by an anonymous witness. The crime was picking up a $6 tip and splitting it. My fellow criminal and I looked at each other agape. I start laughing because this must be some sort of joke. I have worked at this restaurant for nearly three years now and I am the head server for a reason. Finally my manager says that either we confess and we get to keep our jobs or we are terminated.
I am a single mom and a full time student and cannot afford to lose my job. However, I am pissed and stand up and say " I am unable to confess to something I did not do, so nice knowin' ya." Travis follows my lead.
Suddenly the manager is apologetic and says that he does not know what happened but he wants it to go away.
Case closed. Weird.

Thankfully I do not have to wear a nametag. People still ask my name so they can request my section and shit. That works.

 

About a year ago I was at a bar and stepped out the back door to make a phone call. I finished my call and tried to get back inside, only to find the door locked. A bouncer was standing close by so I knocked on the door to grab his attention, and pointed to the door handle. We went throuh the usual bullshit of trying to talk to each other through a closed door with music blasting, as I tried to somehow signal that I was trying to get back inside.

The bouncer then took a step back and KICKED the door into my face. The frame of the door hit me square in the face and I saw stars, if I had been sober it would have probably laid me out. But, luckily I was drunk enough to be numb to the pain. I got knocked back a few feet and stood in shock, finally saying, "What... what the fuck dude!"

Apparently he thought I was trying to sneak in through the back to avoid the cover charge. He offered to buy me a drink but I was too pissed off and just walked away. The next day I had a visible mark from the door running across my whole face.

 

I have a foreign ass name, so I am thrilled to have worn a name tag for 5+ years, especially working in face-to-face sales. I have been mistaken for Gary, Jerry, Larry, Barry, Mary (I'm a dude), and most recently, Billy. Granted that was over the phone and Jimmy John's was apparently loud as fuck when I placed the order.

Also, because of my foreign ass name, I get a lot of questions about it/my nationality, so it's an excellent ice breaker and a good way to build rapport with customers. Then again, I'm not a grocery store cashier or shoe salesman, Al Bundy style. I'm not saying I have a glamorous sales position, but when customers know my name and I know theirs, they tend to trust my recommendations more which leads to more frequent/larger sales, which leads to bonuses, which leads to me spending my bonus on video games and beer, or sometimes a fancy dinner for the lady.

The oddest thing I've been accused of was cheating on a girl I didn't know. My brother, who lives 1,200 miles away, received a text from some broad with my city's area code saying "wtf ur brother cheated on me! asshole!" So he calls me all concerned, asking first off when I dumped current girlfriend, and why I would cheat on this new broad. Then he asked if I had been juggling two relationships somehow. Sadly, I'm not that skilled. Turned out this girl got the wrong number, but she was damn persistent.

 

Focus: Oddest thing I've been accused of is cheating on my SO while we were at the bar together (had been together about a year)... I was house sitting for my mom while she was out of town for a conference, and he had brought me over to get her keys, etc. I decided to drive her car to the bar since it was only about six blocks away (he had to drive approximately 20 miles home, or stay with me at her place, it was to be decided once the weekly Texas Hold 'Em game was over). Left my coat with the keys, my license, etc., in the pockets over the back of a stool. Small town, people do it all the time... When I lost and went back to the bar, my coat is gone. Now I'm freaking, because I just lost the keys to my mom's car, my license, the one emergency credit card I take to the bar, etc., he's still playing. His friend, nickname Paco, says he'll help me look (Paco had a rep as a male slut). We search the bar, go outside, peer through car windows to see if someone grabbed by mistake, look in the kitchen, storage, everywhere, can't find it.

I go over to my SO, tell him that I can't find my coat still, and Steve is going to run my to my mom's to get the other set of keys so I can drive the car home. He's not paying attention, replies, yeah, whatever, okay. So Steve (nice married guy) drives me the six blocks, I get the keys, go straight back to the bar. Gone maybe five minutes. Now, the search took about 20 minutes, at which time Paco & I were outside looking in vehicles for *maybe* five minutes.... it's winter, and my coat was gone. The rest of the time, we were in the bar, in plain sight of people, even the kitchen has two doors you can see into everywhere in there. While Steve took me to my mom's, apparently Paco left. I come back w/Steve, steal freaking about having to cancel the card, get a new license, etc. Sit at the bar, order a beer, SO is still playing cards. He looks over his shoulder, sees I'm sitting there, now with a different coat, comes up to me at the bar and tells me "we need to talk". Ummm.. okay, did you find my coat?

Apparently he thought I left with Paco a half hour before (when we were searching the bar for my coat), and just got back. Claimed I never told him it was Steve taking me to my mom's. Only intervention by Steve & several others backing me up saying no, she just left to get the other set, someone really *did* steal her coat, she & Paco never left together slightly calmed me down. To this day, he still thinks at some point, something weird went on between Paco & myself. I found out who stole my coat (she was just visiting someone in town, so I still don't have it back, five years later) when she tried to use my credit card & was declined. For some reason, they refused to track her down & press charges, even though I knew who had it, unless she tried again. Apparently she was smart enough not to.

Alt Focus: I've been at jobs where I used to have to wear a nametag, and it never bothered me one way or another to wear one. My SO is one of those people who actively looks at name tags, or repeats the name given, and makes it a point to call them by name every time they check back (if a server/bartender), or if he has a question (retail shopping). I've started getting into the habit more, since when he does that, we always seem to get better and/or more attentive service.

Examples: Last Sunday we went to a higher end restaurant for lunch, where they don't wear nametags, but they introduce themselves when they come to your table. Our waitress was Felicia. He commented on what an unusual name it was. Before lunch was over, we heard stories about her weekend, recommendations on drinks (one she recommended was comped), she wasn't intrusive, but when she noticed we were done with courses, she'd come over immediately to clear plates, and just stand & talk with us. Other tables, she'd clear, and just ask anything else, and walk away. Obviously, we're social people, and didn't mind this a bit, and I think she could tell that. Did she get a better tip than if she had *just* done her job? Yep.

On the same note, we have a Mexican place (higher end, not the Taco Bell type) that we've been going to for about three years anywhere from once a week to once a month. We're on first name basis with all the waiters, when we walk in, they just wave at us, we grab our own menus, and go to our "usual" table. If it's mid afternoon, one will even sit down at our table & have lunch with us. I swear on Saturdays & Sundays they don't sit people there. I took my mom there for lunch on Mother's Day, my SO was running late due to his own family stuff. Every waiter came by & gave my mom a rose (supposed to be one per mother), and said how nice it was to meet her. When we were debating over a pitcher of margaritas, or just one each, they brought over a pitcher of my SO & I's usual top shelf, and samples of different flavors for my mom... the samples were half a normal drink, and they brought four.

Yes, I'm rambling, but the point is either introductions, nametags, whatever, does make a more personal connection. Do those in retail, servering/bartending, etc., remember you better when you have make that connection? Maybe, maybe not. Have I said to my checker at Wal Mart, "Thanks, <name>, have a great day yourself!" and gotten a surprised look & a smile, yep. Trust me, having been there, nametags can be a pain in the ass. But if you are, or plan on being, a repeat customer, names mean a lot. Nothing annoys me more bartending (no name tag) than, "Hey lady!" or "Hey bartender!" when I've introduced myself numerous times.

 

Who shit in the tub?

For the last 7-8 years there is an uncomfortable yet funny argument going on between my mother and I about exactly who shit in the tub.

She blamed me but I know in my heart of hearts it had to be her, but under normal circumstances I'd blame me too, I was the perfect patsy to frame for the crime. The only problem with her ploy was that I hadn't bathed at home in over a week, and she and my father have completely separate bathrooms.

At this point in my life I was back living at home for a year because I was looking for a place of my own. My mother, father, my girlfriend at the time, and myself are sitting around the pool deck enjoying some drinks and bullshitting. We had all had plenty to drink so we were busting balls and going back and forth.

Out of nowhere my mother announces that she found a piece of shit in the drain of the tub the day before and that she believes I'm to blame. Just the way she brought it out of nowhere reinforces why I think it was her.

My father thinks this is hilarious as he loves showing me up in front of girlfriends so he launches into a cackling-gasping taunt about how I use to shit the tub when I was a baby too.

Rather than defend myself I just sat there and took it until they calmed down, then I dropped the priceless,

"Well it must have been a pretty dried up piece of shit since I haven't showered here in over a week. Or the homeless are breaking in during the day when you're at work or something."

The look on my moms face told me that she knew that I knew that it wasn't me.

I can't wait to bring this up again at Christmas.