This dude in Starbucks today told me I reminded him of “some kind of actress”, which left me a bit perplexed. He couldn’t remember exactly who, and that was the most information he could give me. Yet he felt compelled to tell me such.
Anytime I’m approached by a stranger, purely for them to compare me to someone else, I get curious. What is this interaction meant to do, for them, and for me? What was it about the way I ordered my tea that made me remind him of an actress? Why an actress? And what on earth kind of an actress? What is he basing this comparison on – do I look more likely to bust out a monologue than the guy in line behind me? I think I have a right to know exactly in which way I’m being judged:
- My make-up choice that day
- The gracefully forced way I interacted with the Starbucks barista
- My Outfit
- The flair I demonstrated while dumping sugar in my cup
- The obscene show of wealth I displayed by plopping my ten cents of change into the tip jar
Except, of course, when I’m approached by fellow Gallaghers. We Gallaghers are a strange breed, with the curious habit of seeking one another out, just to ask “Where are you from? Where are your ancestors from in Ireland?” then flash the signature Gallagher teeth n’ eyebrows . . .
. . . and awkwardly wander away. And that I don’t mind one bit.