I am off again on yet another trip! I am in Phoenix through Thursday–have an event this afternoon and a bunch of appointments the rest of the week.
This weekend, a guy I work with came to help with my event. He’s older than me…in fact, old enough to be my dad. He has kids my age. So, yesterday, when we met up in Phoenix, and made our way to the rental car station, things got interesting.
The guy at Enterprise –I’m driving a really nice Pontiac G6 this week–it’s sweet– anyway, the guy at Enterprise, along with everyone else there, simply assumed that C is my dad. At first these two guys greeting us ignored my feminine existence and made eye contact only with my “father” C. This was further suggested by the surprise when I had the car reservation in my name because surely, they assumed, if he wasn’t my dad and traveling with me, he would have made the reservation himself, because he’s a man, and that’s what men do, right? Also, I never called C by his name while we were there, thus I didn’t have the chance to set the record straight–more assumptions that he is my father. Anyway, the guy was acting like a total tool and when he realized that I was capable of making said reservation for said car, he finally acted like I was a human being and actually made eye contact with me, and not C.
He asks how long we are in town–I say I am here all week, and C is only here through the weekend.
So, we get all checked in, he’s giving me the receipts, I am gathering all of my shit and my phone rings. I stick my hand in my pocket and silence it. It rings again, I silence it again.
I say “Ugh, I silenced you once, I’ll call you back!” talking to the phone in my pocket.
C says “Who’s after you?”
I say “My dad.”
This prompts an extremely disturbed and unbelievably shocked stare from the man behind the counter who assumed this whole time that C is my dad, and is suddenly thinking that there is something more going on here than meets the eye. And I’m sure it did seem that way. Me and my old man boyfriend who is leaving on Monday morning taking a rendezvous for the weekend. Yikes.
Mental bitch slap to the man behind the counter. We work together you idiot–get that look off your face!