How hard is it to walk around a corner without banging into the person walking the other way? This is America. Walk on the right. If you walk on the right, and I walk on the right, and we're going in opposite directions, we won't have any problem. If we play our cards right, we won't even have to acknowledge each other's presence. Okay, maybe just a chin-nod, but that's my final offer.
Furthermore, as a member of the Society for the Protection of the North American Short Person, I would like to request that people keep their eyes peeled for me, as I dart frantically around their knees trying not to get trompled on. I'm starting to feel like a pekinese.
If you can look out for motorcycles on the road, people, you can look out for me in the office. Just because I can't hurl hot gears and oil at you, doesn't mean you'll get off scotfree. I have coffee, and I'm not afraid to use it.
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Seriously. It's about time somebody placed a formal complaint. As a fellow short person, I've found the best tactic in inter-office or bar/nightclub manuvering is to use your pointy little elbows much as the offender uses his/her bulk. Aim for the kidney...
ReplyDeleteyour pal /m\death
I used to work in Charlestown and would walk back and forth over the bridge from the North End daily. There is a narrow walkway to the right side of the bridge, which I always considered a pedestrian highway. 2 lanes, you'd have to wait to pass people until there was no one coming in the opposite direction, etc. Only problem was, every single day I'd exchange dirty looks with several people walking on the 'wrong side' of my highway. It seems simple enough - stay to the right, don't get in a fist-fight. I said to a guy one time, who muttered something under his breath after losing our little game of 'chicken' "Are you from fucking England? Walk to the right." To which he responded "Pffffft". Best comeback ever.
ReplyDeleteMy pedestrian rage today is aimed toward people who gather in clutters of coworkers in the hallway, thus totally blocking off all access to the kitchen, where my coffee lives.
ReplyDelete