One Kind of Flattery

Today at Perkins, I had just taken an order and had turned to bring it to the kitchen when a man from the adjacent section approached me.

"Hello," he said. He looked just like toy store owner on Toy Story 2, with a pony tail. "I just wanted you to know that I specifically asked for the young girl's section when I saw you, but instead I got stuck in some guy's section. I really wanted you. And I just wanted you to know."

"Oh... ok." I turned with wide eyes and continued my journey to the computers to punch in the order I still had in my hand. By the time I reached the computer, I had cracked a smile, and after successfully ringing in two eggs benedict and a turkey club, I laughed loud and long.

What was he trying to do? Flatter me? Because all the feeling he managed to excite in me was that creepy, get-me-away-from-this-guy-right-now feeling. Honestly. The young girl's section? If that's not spooky, I don't know what is.

I understand what could have happened. It's very possible he's sat in my section before, and enjoyed himself. So when he walked into the lobby today and saw I was working, he simply asked for my section by pointing to the right and referring to me as the "young girl", to distinguish me from the older woman working in the next room. At that point one of two things happened. Possibly Nack (a Thai girl with limited English skills) was there to seat him, and all she understood was the pointing finger, so she took him in the general direction, and he ended up at one of Chris's tables. Otherwise, it was Josh seating, and his creep radar sounded an alarm just as loudly as mine did, so he did what he could to protect me from the weird guy.

But perhaps the man should have thought before opening his mouth. All it sounded like to me was that he walked in, looked around, found a girl who suited his fancy, and asked for her section. Lucky me.

I choose to believe the first scenario, mostly to keep myself from being too creeped out. But whatever the case, I think that guy needs to work on his word choice. (And the pony tail needs to go, too.)