"You girls are going to learn some self-defense techniques."
This was one of the first things I heard on a gray, rainy morning. The caffeine hadn't fully penetrated my nervous system so I stared at the maintenance guy who said it. As did my co-workers. Was he serious? He was serious. Once it registered that he was serious a hundred questions ran through my head: Self-defense? Why? Didn't I look tough enough? You want me to carry mace? WHY? Oooh! Can I flip him? Please?
No flipping ensued. Instead conversations about mace and using the heel of our hand as a weapon ensued. While it was enlightening, I didn't think it was completely necessary. I'd never felt uncomfortable with a guest.
And then a guest walked in and stared me down. He told me his entire life story after knowing only my first name. While he didn't breath heavily or say anything remotely lewd, something about him unsettled me. Maybe it was the nervous shifting that he did in his seat. Maybe it was the way he stared at me and then the table and then me. Whatever it was, it made my throat go dry and my stomach clench up.
Luckily, nothing horrible happened. My stomach remained knotted throughout the interaction and I could barely speak because of my cotton-mouth, but he didn't try to stab me in the uterus or punch me in the face or do anything to warrant a Lifetime movie. I did breath a sigh of relief when he drove off, though.
It's kind of ironic that not three hours after there was a meeting about defending ourselves there was an interaction that left me feeling slightly off. Maybe carrying mace isn't such a bad idea after all. Too bad I didn't learn how to flip someone, though. That would be even more handy.
Ciao, dahling!
~*Krissy*~