People I Love...and Those I Don't

This picture has nothing to do with the post. I just really want to go to Arizona.

Client Interaction

Working with my clients is honestly the best job that I could ask for right now. I get paid to hang out with them.

Obviously, I can’t share too much information about my work or my clients, but I can’t NOT share the little tidbits from them that make my day – at the expense of myself.

“I like your earrings – your watch is really tacky, though.”

Client: “So, when you were depressed, was it because you didn’t have a boyfriend?”
Me: “What? No!”

Me: “You’re a really good artist.”
Client: “That makes me want to take you to my room and show you all my other pictures.”

Me: “I like your picture.”
Client: “Thanks. Wanna buy it?”
Me: “Um. No.”
Client: “Then why are you standing here wasting my time? Move along.”

Client: “Are you poisoning that again, Shelley?” (I was making her some hot chocolate).
Me: “I’m not Shelley.” (I have no idea why my first response was to correct the name and not discount her belief that I was trying to kill her).
Client: “I know who you are, Chris.”
Me: “I’m not Chris!”
Client: “I don’t give a shit who you people are, to be honest. You’re shit under my feet and I should piss on your grave for murdering my father.”
Me: “…do you still want your hot chocolate?”

Client: “I hear they’re sending you to maximum security.”
Me: “To work?”
Client: “No, as a patient.”
Me: “What?! Who have you been talking to?!”

Client: “Your hair is much better when it’s straight.”
Me: “Did it look that bad the other day?”
Client: “No, but…it looks way better now.”

Kickboxing

My mom and I decided to buy a Wagjag offer for kickboxing. Tonight was our first night. We got there when a children’s karate class was going on, and there were kids everywhere. For someone who is just now warming up to the idea of having a kid of my own (in the future! Not now. Jesus, not right now), all the little children were a tad overwhelming. Which showed when I exclaimed “my God, they’re everywhere!” Oops.

Anyway, this ladies kickboxing was full of young, tired mothers (I have no idea if they actually were; I’m just making an uninformed assumption) wearing pink shirts and pink gloves (PINK. At a fucking martial arts centre). Their stances were terrible and they hit the bag like they were afraid of breaking a nail. Look, I’m all about femininity (if you ask my friend Rio, I’m only a little bit manly – thanks buddy), but when we’re supposed to be boxing, it’s not the time. Add to the fact that the owner is a really annoying chick who needs some serious dental work and a personality overhaul, and my Mom and I were rolling our eyes and scoffing at people the entire time. It’s hard to be so perfect, but we manage.

I was standing there rolling my eyes when some guy walked into the centre. With eyes that were, seriously, icy blue. I looked at him, breathed “whoa”, and quickly hiked down my shirt. Fairly certain he was the husband of the annoying chick, so all the more reason to seduce him. Right?

Love,

Bella