File this under the "it could have been worse" file - just got it in my inbox this morning, forwarded from someone who works at the local community college.
> Something is not quite right with fabric of the
universe lately. Maybe the
earth's chakras are misaligned with the stars or
some other cosmic shit. I
have dealt with every fucking lunatic at the
college in the last month.
These guys are way way way way out on the "normal
spectrum of human
behavior". Actually, the guy i'm going to tell
you about is really an
animal, or worse. No need to insult the dog.
> SO, it's Financial Aid Awareness week, or FAAW,
as we like to call it. You
must have heard of it with the Super Bowl ads we
purchased and that sign we
hung in the school cafeteria. It's cool cuz we
get to hang out in the school
courtyard and eat pretzels, give away stuff-
pens, post it notes,
highlighters (those go quick), and answer
questions. We are supposed to
provide a kind human face to an otherwise chilly
unresponsive beaurocracy
with silly rules. Usually, we are required to be
really bitchy and mean. I
take that back- we like being nice and are able
to do so today because we
cannot see the pile of paperwork that will take a
month of work because we
are shortstaffed and there is a hiring freeze
blah blah blah. Besides, it's
hard to be bitchy when it's so nice out and
everybody is happy 'cuz they
don't have to spend $5 at the bookstore for a
highlighter.
> SO, the front counter sends a veteran to see me
in the courtyard since i
am out of the office, yet totally stalkable. Now,
this guy looks like he was
an extra in American History X (that skinhead ed
norton movie). He's
displaying various celtic tattoos up and down his
arms and a big old WP
(white power) tattoo on his neck. Ug. Hardcore.
Black and red flamed Doc
Martens. Red and Black shirt circa 1938 Reich
colors with an embroidered
slogan, "Proud to be hated". To complete the
ensemble, a big old shiny
Celtic Pride belt buckle. Bear in mind this guy
is looking specifically for
me.
> SO, he wants to know how to use his veteran's
educational benefits. I tell
him the application is back in the Financial Aid
office and describe the
correct forms. At this point i am imagining
Lorna, our Philipine rep,
pissing herself as she's dealing with this guy.
He's pissed (surprise,
surprise- an angry neo-nazi) that he was sent to
the courtyard to see me if
the application is back at the office. I politely
explain that first-timers
are referred to me because they frequently have
questions that go beyond the
printed material. See, I am not a civil servant-
I'm here to HELP! This
seemed to appease him- believe me, i did not want
to piss this guy off for
reasons that will become more clear later.
Remember the stereotype about the
crazed Marine special forces guy who is blown up
and gets all fucked up and
crazy and shit?? I am sure you've seen him in any
TNN Thursday night movie
on "Guy Night". Well, that's this guy. He
explains that an explosion put him
in hospital for a year. "Notice I'm still pretty,
though," he says (he's
kind of puffy in a weird way, not fat, but sort
of handsome for a neo-Nazi
type). Uh, right. "Well," he explains, "it only
hurt my brain on the
inside." Did I mention he has a Scottish brogue??
I wonder if he was a
neo-nazi before the explosion. I wonder if he had
a BROGUE before the
explosion.
> At this point, I think I am rid of him. At
least until he fucks up his
paperwork. The psycho ones always do, and it is
my responsibility to explain
to some lunatic why he won't be getting paid on
time. Try explaining that to
the sane, let alone some crazed psycho. He walks
away muttering about how
the "filthy civilians" do not respect him (at
this point i know he is
Marine. For the record, i was right. He later
explains that the Marines are
the US's SS). UG.
> He comes back. With the wrong paperwork. Sigh.
At least I caught it before
it delayed his payment. I decide to walk him back
to get the correct papers,
making sure to take the route past the security
office. This really sucks
cuz i don't want anybody to think this guy and i
are friendly in any way
shape or form, especially the gaggle of Black
girls we pass who i am sure
could kick my not so white ass (i find this out
later). We pass a female
security officer. He snickers, "women with badges
always make me laugh." He
then tells a story where he humiliates this
female trainee in one of his
tactical classes. At the office, after i show him
the correct paperwork, he
begins a tirade against capitalism. Capitalism
will always breed
beaurocracies, he explains. They don't care about
you; you're just a number.
Socialist sytems care about their people- so,
even if he's talking about the
National Socialist Party (i.e., Nazi), at least
we agree on socializing
health care and stuff, right? I wish i could tell
you he had an Ed Norton
like breakthrough like in the movie. Whatever. We
leave. And, notice this is
AFTER i help him with all of his paperwork, he
turns to me and asks my last
name. Pause.
>
> So, instead of making up some acceptable
sounding last name like
Fraubergersheitzenkrieghapt, I tell him my name.
But only cuz i was wearing
my id badge.
> He looks at me and comments that he had an
Italian car once. It blew a
tire. Did i know the sound it made?? WOP WOP WOP
WOP WOP WOP WOP. He called
me a WOP. 7 or 8 eight times. I maintained my
composure and walked away. BUT
I WAS PISSED! Fucking brain damaged white trash
fake brogue talkin' cracker!
Ha, WOPs brought you the Roman Empire,
Michaelangelo (mr. faggoty painter
wop), great art, architecture, any food worth
eating, execution by lion (uh,
scratch that one) and PRETTY FUCKING CLOTHES! WE
CREATED STYLE, goddammit!
> I wish i could say that i told him he was a
disgusting human being. But i
didn't. He was really intimidating. And that's
the problem with these
bastards- they are really fucking scary. They
still lynch people- i was
afraid if i made him look like a jackass he'd be
waiting for me some night
in the parking lot. Ug. I now have first-hand
experience in the art of
intimidation. Hell, i'm used to being humiliated-
my dad dropped me off to
school dances in a brown 1978 caprice classic
station wagon with plasti-wood
on the sides. The intimidation is what really got
to me.
> SO, that's the end of the story. He'll probably
be back, and maybe i'll
invoke our school's code against hate speech or
something. I'm hoping his
head injury involves forgetting everything every
4 hours so he'll never turn
in his paperwork.
> Maybe he'll forget he hates everyone.
>
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