IT'S TIME!!! . . .

. . . For the same old ****.

So one of the chefs on the banquets team told my friend/the chef how he doesn't bother saying hello to me anymore because I never say hello and am apparently not nice. Which I do. But I'm a quiet person. I say hello, sometimes you don't hear it. Eh, that's fine. People are working. I'm ****ing working. If I make eye contact with you I'll say hello, but if I just pass you by along with everyone else I'm not stopping every single freaking person to make sure you hear me say hello. It's just not gonna happen. Ain't nobody got time for that.
I think I'm a perfectly polite human being. I try to be considerate and I try to be helpful because I'm ruled by a sense of fairness above all. But being polite doesn't equal being friendly. I'm not friendly towards everyone. We're not friends. Deal with it. My friends are people who are close. You're at a distance. I treat you as I would anyone who isn't close to me, with cool politeness if not affection. And I'll say it over and over and you'll deny it over and over because being accused of sexism is worse than being sexist, but none of this would matter if I were a man. You wouldn't give a **** if I were a man who didn't say hello. If I were a quiet man. You wouldn't think it rude, or anything negative. It would just be. But because I'm a woman I have to meet some minimum level of grinning obsequiousness to satisfy you. To flatter your maleness, which seems to rely so heavily on women's behavior. Gee, which sex is it that is insecure and in need of validation?
My smiles are never sufficient. Never enough for you to feel good.
Tack on a few extra levels for being a reasonably attractive, conventionally feminine woman (in appearance of course, because the issue is that my behavior isn't conventionally feminine enough for you, and it's a real mind-bender for you that what comes out of my mouth doesn't match what I look like). But yeah, lord knows you wouldn't expect or care for me to be all smiles and pleasantries if I didn't hit some aesthetic sweet spot.

The other night we got clobbered and were so deep in the weeds that the banquet cooks that happened to be around came to help. One was assigned to help me and kept asking me what he could do. Which I couldn't possibly answer because I needed to stop and listen to chef guide me along, clearing the path. And the cook next to me was stepping in. There was really nothing for said banquet cook to do, and certainly I couldn't answer his questions when the goal was to drown everything out and focus. Cooks know this. It's not personal. It's the nature of being and getting out of the weeds.
He tells my friend how he's never seen said cook be so angry. How I was "nasty". For not answering questions I had no answers to when I had to shut up and listen? And even if you get angry, this is the angriest you've been? Really? Lemme tell you again how you'd never be this angry over a man having the audacity to not answer to you when other things are at stake. But of course you won't listen.

The same old ****.