There is a woman who works in my office building. I know her name is Amanda. Not Mandy or Amy. She is AMANDA. I know this because I always seem to get stuck riding up in the elevator with her in the morning and she is a talker. I know many things about Amanda. She regales all of her fellow elevator riders with true tales of herself.
She likes to be called AMANDA. Once, a co-worker called her Mandy and she told them that she was not a "freakin Perry Manilow song." I would have corrected her and told her that his name is BARRY not PERRY but I didn't want anyone to know that I knew that name and the song (although, privately...I do heart me some Barry, especially songs about weekends in New England.)
She has a car that is always conking out and her father drives her to work and picks her up. I know this because she describes her car's problems in detail.
She likes cats. She once spent an entire elevator ride describing her "pretty kitty's" distinctive meeeeooooooowwwww!!!!! By the time I got off the elevator, I was ready to throw kitty litter at someone. Her clothes are also perpetually covered in cat hair.
She does not dye her hair. I know this, because....yes....she announced to no one in particular (because I swear to baby hey zeus, NO ONE talks to her unless they have no choice) that she thinks that hair dye causes cancer.
So...yes. Amanda.
Amanda also told us that two people in her office were having an affair and one (the guy) is married. She thinks that is shameful and she told him that if his wife ever came to the office to meet him for lunch again, she was going to tell on him. She laughed and said that the wifey hasn't shown up since. I wonder if she's sitting home wondering why he never wants her to meet him for lunch anymore, but this is all pointless as I DON'T KNOW THIS FORNICATING PAIR.
I don't even know what office Amanda works on, except that it is on a floor above mine. I sometimes see her at lunch in the cafeteria with a group of women who all seem to be very chummy. I imagine they spend their lunch hours debating things like hair dye and car problems. And fornicators.
Every year, our building has a crafts fair around Christmas time. I stop in, not because I like crafts, but because they serve free hot fudge sundaes. I walk around, slurping up my sundae and looking, but I seldom buy. In fact, I've only purchased one item and that was a few years ago when I bought a cup that said I WUV U!!!! It was a joke gift for my partner, Bing. I put it in her stocking. It now sits on her desk in her office and holds pencils.
This year, when I was browsing, I noticed that AMANDA had a table set up. She had lots of jewelry displayed. The kind that I never buy. Big, giant necklaces that look like Cleopatra or Nicki Minaj would like them. Earrings that had polka dots on them. Also earrings shaped like little turtles or bunnies. She also had lanyards. Very ugly plastic beady ones that were sparkly in a Liberace sort of way. I smiled at her and moved on quickly even after she told me that she thought the poodle shaped earrings were "so you!" THEY WERE NOT ME! I SWEAR IT!
So...cut to the elevator ride this morning. I had purchased a few lanyards online and happened to have one of my new ones on to hold my office photo and id that I hate because I look like I am getting goosed. But, the lanyard was lovely, all amber gemstones.
Amanda zoned in on me. She got all up in my face, which I think is a really, really mean thing to do to someone on an elevator at 7:50 a.m. when that person got in an argument with her partner over how to place knives in the dishwasher (FACING DOWN, DUDE!) just an hour before.
Amanda has done this before. She does this to everyone at least once. I think she feels this is socially acceptable since she seems incapable of riding up silently and sullenly with the rest of us. Once, she told me that my shoes were "hot." I'm 54. I have no business wearing hot shoes. But, okay...they were a little edgy, a little Pat Benatar. Another time, she asked me if I knew how good my hair smelled. And yet another time, she told me that I was a "spring" person and should not be wearing yellow as it sallowed up my face. Well, fuck her, I thought, although I simply smiled at her and thanked her, telling her in my best fuck you voice that I always wanted to know what season I was. Amanda smiled back at me and said that every woman owed it to herself to know her season.
Good hell.
So, today was apparently my turn again. She told me that my lanyard was "very classy." I thanked her and pointedly looked away, hoping to diffuse her from talking to me any more.
No luck.
She got close enough to me so that I could smell the egg mcmuffin on her breath.
"I saw you checking out my table at the Christmas craft fair," she said. "Where did you get your lanyard?"
I told her that I ordered it online. Didn't say the name. It's best not to encourage her in any way.
"How much did it cost ya?" she asked.
I heard Javier snort. Javier is a translator who works on my floor. He is one of the most beautiful men I have ever seen. He dresses like he should be on a Vogue cover. He has helped me out many times when I've needed a Spanish translator, so I know him enough to know that he thinks Amanda is a pain in the ass too.
In private, we have snarkily referred to her as Mandy. This entertains us way too much. Javier sometimes will also sing out about how Mandy came and she gave without taking. But we sent her away. Oh...Mandy.
I sighed. Debated for a second about telling Amanda that it is rude to ask someone how much something costs. Decided to just be nice. Shut her up.
I told her it was around ten bucks, I thought.
"Plus shipping too?" she pushed.
I nodded.
"Well, my lanyards are only 8 dollars and they are every bit as much as pretty as the one that you have on. Why didn't you buy one of mine? I saw you looking at them."
Another quick debate. Another choice.
"Well, Amanda," I said. "I have to admit that I didn't see any that I liked. I'm sorry."
She looked shocked. Stricken. You would have thought that I'd hauled off and smacked her right across the kisser.
Her bottom lip trembled.
Our floor dinged. Javier and I got off. Amanda was saying something when we stepped off, but I missed it.
I asked Javier if he'd heard it.
"I did," he said, with his gorgeous melodious voice.
"I believe she said that you were a meanie."
A meanie?
Me?
But, I've been so patient with Amanda. More patient than most.
I hooked my arm through Javier's offered arm. Asked him if he thought I was mean.
No, he told me. But, he had seen her jewelry and thought I'd look lovely in her necklace that spelled out SHE CAT. And then, he threw back his lovely black mane and laughed as only Javier can, his perfect white teeth gleaming under the florescent lights of the fourth floor.
So....my question for you:
What would you do if it had been YOU instead of ME in that elevator? Would you have lied? Been truthful? Feigned that you couldn't seem to remember her lanyards/jewelry?
Javier jokingly suggested that he could use some dice cuff links that he saw on her crafts table...that I could make it up to
I think I'll take the stairs for a while. Need the exercise.
32 comments:
To my way of thinking (and reactionary ways) if someone is rude enough to put you on the spot in a situation you can't easily excuse yourself or escape from, you have every right to tell them to go to hell, and she's lucky you phrased it as kindly as you did! Who is she to question your style, your choices, or your purchases? Good grief, people like this never cease to amaze me, yet in her mind I'm sure you were the offending party. You were nicer than I would have been!
Amanda either has Asperger's, some other disorder, or she was never taught the rules of social discourse. She is clearly in need of attention of some kind.
In your position, I would have lied and said I don't know how much the lanyard cost because it was a gift from a friend. That is a general answer for people who inquire about such things with me if I don't wan to tell them the cost for whatever reason.
That said, I think you handled the situation quite well. Perhaps no one has ever been honest with this girl (and I call her that because she sounds like a stunted adolescent) and it might be high time someone was. So really, I think your method of handling this was just fine too, you meanie you! ;)
I would have done the same and told her that she smelled of egg mcmuffin.
Or maybe not, depending on my passivity I may have ended up buying the cuff links.
If someone is different and mean, then assertive is needed but I worry that they really just need saving and I am being mean. I would avoid the lift and cafe forever and if you find lanyard bits around your desk, change jobs.
Bear in mind that diplomacy is not my strong point ;) But I have some ideas:
One option is to be early/late and see that you get on a different elevator ride. Might inconvenience you more than her though.
Option two: headphones. My favourite way to drown out the world. But then you can't talk to the other elevator-riders either - oh wait, you don't WANT to talk to anyone in the morning! Strike! BA DUM DUM ;)
Option three: "Please, don't talk to me." or simply ignore her when she says something, smile nicely at her but don't say anything. This is super rude, granted, but to be considered if she is impairing your mornings to the point of where it really bothers you and you want to get her to stop. Although being the "meanie" that you are she might actually stop now, no?
Option four: when she babbles just look up and think of England. Which is probably what you have been doing so far.
Option five: Quietly talk TO someone, i.e. Javier, ignoring her and possibly drowning her out.
I personally think that incessant talking is much less bad than coming into my personal space WITH YOUR BREATH. Seriously people, ewww.
I think I would have done the same thing...or would have feigned a seizure.
Knives go point down, by the way.
Oh boy, I'd have been much less patient with her. I sometimes think we owe it to socially inept people to nudge them towards socially acceptable behaviour, but that's when I've been a "meanie" (grown women say that?) and I'm trying to justify myself. I think you've been perfectly patient, and your comment was totally acceptable. Just be prepared for a gang of friends from the cafeteria to give you the evil eyes. PS Who doesn't love a bit of Barry?
I think I'd wished that I started lying at once and told her it was a gift from someone. But, as my default setting seems to be to be honest, I'd probably done the same as you.
I don't think you were mean, you seem to have told her the truth as nicely as possible.
I think you were polite and truthful. She did ask you and you told her the reason. She didn't like your answer which is not your problem.
I had an epiphany the other night. I realized that one of my coworkers doesn't like me and I don't care. Very good progress for me, a dyed in the wool people pleaser.
I prefer people who tell me the truth, even when it's uncomfortable, it's just so much easier.
i'd say, "settle down, weirdo".
I changed it, Eric. Seriously! Because I DID mean to type out DOWN instead of UP. Promise. I learned this when Liv was 3 and was running around the kitchen. The dishwasher door was down and she tripped and fell, slicing her forehead from a knife that was tipped UP. She still has a tiny crescent moon shaped scar above her left eyebrow. And it scared me shitless. You know how much heads bleed. Anyway, I've been a knives down person ever since then, but Bing continually insists the knives should be put in blade tip up. So, I will show her that I have a debate partner now.
I probably would have lied and told her it was a gift. One could argue that it kind of was...a gift to yourself. :) See? Not even a lie!
Knives, point down. We have very sharp knives and I'm not big on getting sliced by a hidden one while unloading the dishwasher. Oh, and the dog sometimes licks the dishes in the dishwasher - so gross, I know. But I don't want him to cut his tongue.
Well, today I learned that I have been loading the dishwasher all wrong - I have been placing my knives with the tips up!!! Oh, me, oh, my, will have to find someone out in the public to tell that to, over and over and over again! LOL
You need to perfect an "I don't know what to say" look that goes straight through to the elevator wall.
Technically, knives are supposed to go into the dishwasher point up. I know this because I read the manual the first time I moved into a house that had one. Basically the part of the cutlery that you use, i.e. the dirty bit, is supposed to be up so that it gets cleaned properly. But lots of people prefer to put them point down because of safety concerns. Personally, I've stabbed myself way more often with forks in the dishwasher than knives (and no-one puts the forks tines down 'cos then they poke out the bottom of the basket) so overall, it's probably just as well that I don't have one at all now.
Well done for being so honest with Mandy. I'd like to think I'd have done the same but I fear I might have ended up being somewhat ruder in my response. Comments about price vs. value for money etc. come to mind.
I am not a morning person, never have been, although I’m more coherent now than ever. Still that’s not saying much. If anybody got in my face in an elevator early in the morning, I don’t think I’d have it in me to be polite. How rude I’d be would vary on a number of factors. If I were awake enough to be aware that she was standing on my last nerve, I might be as polite as telling her it’s way too early for me to have any sort of conversation so move away and leave me the hell alone.
Now, this most likely would have happened the first time, so depending on her denseness and social retardation, it may have been the last and I wouldn’t have to deal with it again. If, however, I looked at her table at the craft fair, because it’s like a bad accident where one can’t help looking, and invariably found myself in your situation, I think I’d tell her it’s none of her business where I get any of my things. And for the record, she was standing much too close to me, that the smell of Egg McMuffin sickens me, and if she didn’t want to wear my puke, she’d step away. NOW. Then I’d employ The Look. Friends have told me about The Look, I don’t will it to come, it just arrives in moments like this. It scares even the staunchest.
Then I’d be forever known as that elevator bitch who puked and made Mandy, er, Amanda cry. And I’d probably have a bunch elevator mates, eager to shake my hand and want to be friends.
I also put knives in blades down.
You have an elevator ride with AMANDA a couple times a day, five days a week. Imagine you live with AMANDA. Yeah.
btw, great writing. Thanks for stopping by my place.
You did very well Maria. A little piece of writing that I adore is 'Desiderata' I have it where I can see it when I get up in the morning. It works for me every time and I find myself reciting it silently. Even in elevators.
I love this very funny post.
This is one of the funniest things I've read in a while. Thanks for coming by my blog! I'll be backkkkkk!
OH. Oh wow. I'm gonna have to come back to this. Right now...it's Friday night and I'm drunk. And this post deserves more. Tomorrow. Oh yes. I'll be back. Tomorrow.
You handled the situation perfectly. You were civil, polite and honest.
I think from here on out you should be softly singing Mandy every time you get into the elevator. I agree with Sarahf. Who doesn't love a bit of Barry? He does, after all, write the songs that make the whole world sing.
Maria I so love your blog. You post about your continuing adventures in life and all my imaginary acquaintances join in and comment. One aside from the main theme (the position of a knife) and everyone just makes that left turn with you and continues on... It just made me chuckle. Thanks everyone.
Jeanmarie
I am so glad I don't have to ever share an elevator with Amanda. You were no "meanie." I try to be kind and diplomatic with people like that. I could not have been as nice as you were. Also, I wouldn't even have told her how much I had paid or where I had gotten my lanyard. None of her damned business... or maybe Mandy would say bee's wax.
I think you handled the situation very well. I'm not sure I would have been as kind in the same situation. You responded to her rudeness with kindness and patience. I think Mandy needs to get a clue!
Thank you for visiting and commenting on my blog.
Carry a small notebook and let it be known that you are writing a book. Whenever she tries to start talking to you, hold up an urgent finger and pull out the notebook, "Oh sorry, I must get this thought on paper right now, before I forget it". Nose buried in notebook, followed by pained (and/or feigned) concentration with eyes closed.
No dishwasher so no opinion there. However, the knives in the drain, blade down. I've nicked a wrist or two in my day to teach me that lesson. That, or put them away immediately. HA!
Your Amanda tale makes me very glad to work for a small business within a small building. My son, who is often accosted with comments about his apparel (usually his very impressive hats) usually responds with, "I don't remember." But then, he doesn't have to see most of those folks again.
As answering intrusive, rude question number one often leads to a second (and possibly third) query...I usually evade or ignore.
So many typos I had to re-post.
I only consistently put sharp knives point down. Table knives are no more dangerous, point up, than forks.
A meanie! That's a scream. Usually you don't hear that from adults. I think your response was fine - honest without being mean, in fact. The other way to handle it is to look surprised when she asks an inappropriate question (and it's important to hold the look long enough for it to register) and then say something like, "Oh! Ha ha! Of course I never discuss how much I pay for things!" (The implied message is, "Just because you're being rude, you silly twit, doesn't mean I'm going to get bullied into revealing anything to you.") Any follow-up remarks from her can then be met with, "Hmm." Or if you live in Appalachia, "Well."
Huh, I have no memory of that Hands Across America event. Let's see - in '86 I would have been in my first year of grad school. Yeah, that would explain it.
While I sincerely believe that Mandy deserves what she gets and has given up her right to be treated kindly, I probably would have told her that I had already ordered the lanyard when I saw hers and didn't need two. But you may have discouraged her from getting in your face anymore, at least until she forgets how mean you are. :)
I did not read any other comments so that I would not sway from the way I am feeling after reading this.
First of all, I, too, love Barry Manilow music...so much that I HID his cd under other items when I purchased his greatest hits collection 10 years ago at Walmart...and I EXPLAINED to the cashier in a sheepish voice that I had wanted to go to his concert, but that he had cancelled before I could buy tickets. She was very young...but she hid her face behind her hand as she whispered, "I like some of his songs, too." We smiled at one another, and for a moment, we had a connection...thanks Barry for Copacabana, Mandy, Looks Like We Made It, Can't Smile Without YOu, Could It Be Magic....oh, yes, I am a fan!
I am 57...so I'm not much older than you, though you might think so. I have found when someone approaches me with idle chatter, they are either nervous or they need a friend. I am a chatty person once I get to know you, but to talk to a stranger on an elevator, other than to say good morning, no, not unless they start talking first...oh, well, I might tell them they really smell good, or I LOVE that rhinestone lanyard...where in the world did they find it...or yes, I have told a couple of nurses on their way to duty that I adore their lunch bag...that is the cutest thing I have EVER seen...and a lot of times, I get a snotty look that says, "why are YOU talking to ME." It seems that I am like your Mandy in that way. The thing is, I am just trying to make someone smile and start their day out right, and more times than I care to mention, I get cold shoulders, mostly from young people. I try to convince myself that I get that reaction because of our generation telling our kids not to talk to strangers, and after all, what am I? I stranger on an elevator. But, how menacing can I look with my greyin hair and my basket of records? Not very.
As far as talking about the people fornicating? I would have told her, "judge not, lest ye be judged." Then I would have said that she doesn't know what goes on behind peoples closed doors...the woman's husband could be beating her every night and the man's wife could be a lush...you never know. Let God be the judge. You just help your fellow man whatever way you can. I'll bet after she told me one story like that, she'd never tell me another one.
I hope you can try to see something good in Mandy. Maybe she just needs someone to understand her and not judge her too harshly. Maybe.
I hate when people get all up in my face. Ewww.
I'd have told her to fuck off, but that's just me.
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