Raging Egoist and Certified Selfie Photographer: All About That Bass (No Treble)

Well lookie here, boys! *says in old timey prospector voice*
We got ourselves a two blog post month! *spits tobacco into brass spittoon*

I know, I know, you are all gobsmacked in wonderment. I am too! But, I felt I just had to share what happened while at work today. So, grab a drinkie, have a seat, and relax a few while I spin a fantastic tale of heartbreak and loss, anger and more loss, and maybe, we all might learn a little something.

For those not in the know, I am a security site supervisor. I run a 10 person crew that works 24/7 on a two building site located somewhere in the Biltmore corridor. It's corporate security, and I am unarmed. This means that I wear an ill-fitting polyester suit complete with suspenders (my choice, I hate belts), and a tie (not my choice, but damn that shit looks good on me). As a "Corporate Security Supervisor" my job is to make sure my crew is running efficiently and professionally, as well as serve alongside them during the day.

Most times it is a boring job. I patrol, I pull desk duty, and I direct people to the south elevator, 2nd floor, suite 290. That's fine, that's good. That means that there are no emergencies, access control issues, fires, floods, or acts of nature. Those last three have all happened in the past year believe it or not. Occasionally I am asked to have persons of a less than desirable nature removed from the premises. Most of the time they leave after a polite but firm request to do so. There has been one who gave me a spot of trouble, but eventually learned to hightail it out of dodge when I came walking up, sunglasses on, mobile phone in hand. I mean, come one! Look at this face! Who wouldn't be intimidated by the ferociousness?

It must be a change in the weather recently, because this past week, I have escorted my fair share of panhandlers and transients off the property. They are starting to come out in droves now that the weather is cooling off!

I work in what is designated as a "Class A Building" which is defined as:

Class A. These buildings represent the highest quality buildings in their market. They are generally the best looking buildings with the best construction, and possess high quality building infrastructure. Class A buildings also are well-located, have good access, and are professionally managed. As a result of this, they attract the highest quality tenants and also command the highest rents.

See that? I have a reputation to uphold and protect! I take my job seriously. Thank you squarefeetblog.com for your information.

Today was no different. The manager of the parking garage informed me shortly after lunch that there was a dude hanging out at the south west corner of building and asking people for money. So, I donned my trusty sunglasses (the TRUE source of my badassery), grabbed my mobile, and took a stroll to see what I could see. Sure as shit, I go out there and he was in the process of asking for money from a guest whom had just parked. I interrupted him mid sentence, with a clear and courteous "I'm sorry sir, we do not allow soliciting or panhandling on our property, I must ask you to leave". This jackanape then turns to me and asks if I would give him money for the bus. I say no. He then says "I bet you got some in your pocket though". I stare at him a moment before replying "No sir, I do not". He turns around after thanking me for my compassion...

#Snark

and starts to walk. I follow a few steps behind him, just to ensure he leaves the property and doesn't harass anyone on his way out. First he tried charm and held his arm out as if to formally escort me. I declined and he got upset.

I ignored him and steadily kept walking forward.

Then he turned around and walks backward, asking if I would walk beside him so, and that since I wouldn't then I had to be a crazy creepy stalker. Shortly after uttering that gem he backed right into our light poles. I didn't laugh, and I didn't smirk, though the temptation as great.

I ignored him and steadily kept walking forward.

For some reason that flustered him, he started gesticulating and when he did the change in his pocket came flying out and onto the ground. I stopped walking and waited while he bent to pick it up. He stood, started insulting me again, and bam! The change fell out of his pocket again! He wanted money so much, but the longer he insulted more, the harder it was for him to keep hold of it. Seriously, I wanted to laugh. When he stooped down to pick it up for the final time he decided to get nasty. "Maybe I should keep dropping it so you have to stop and start. Maybe you would lose some weight then!" Then he did some lame/weird/pathetic pantomime thing of pretending to drop his money and pick it up. I just stood there and waited for him to get back up. Then he started veering off towards our smoking area, where I had guests and tenants. I calmly said "Sir, I'm going to ask you to not cut through our smoking area and please proceed towards the sidewalk". Well that got his knickers in a twist and he turned and hissed that he didn't smoke, he dipped (which he promptly SPAT onto my sidewalk). Then he did some fake bowing stuff, thanked me for my non-compassion, dropped a few F-Bombs, flipped me off, and told me I should check my blood pressure.

Now, I am not a small woman. I am aware, totally, that I am a bit tubby.

As a depth charge to the submarine of my self-esteem though, that one blew a hole in my stern...or whatever submarines have, I'm too lazy to google submarine layouts right now. Gah! that got me right in the pride!!! I just kind of halfway smirked and stared at him. He continued on with his tirade.

I ignored him and steadily kept walking forward.

Once we rounded the corner and he was on the sidewalk proper he sped up his walking speed until he was a few yards ahead of me. Near the corner of the major intersection he started asking people for money again. He finally turned around and said "I'm on public property and panhandling is legal on public property!"

I replied in sotto voce, "Do a lot of panhandling then, do you?"

He started to walk towards me again for a few feet, when I calmly informed him that now he was harassing my tenants and guests who were trying to walk by him. I said to him that unless he kept moving and left the area I would call the police. He tried to get closer and yelled "SO DO IT! ITS LEGAL ON PUBLIC PROPERTY!"

Within two seconds my phone was open and I had dialed 911.

Fun Fact: I have tons of experience calling 911, and even saved a woman from getting beat by her live in boyfriend.

I slowly kept walking forward until I was the intersection . He took off walking at fast pace, continuing his false bowing in thanks, flipping me the bird, and hustling across the street. I did 911, A) because he had become verbally aggressive and had started to think about invading my personal space and B) Had started to make my tenants and guests uncomfortable. Standard protocol is that when police are contacted, we just give them a heads up. If he comes back again that same day we call them back and they will come pick him up. I knew this. The guy didn't. I watched him until I couldn't see him anymore, then I turned around and went back to my post. Mission completed.

But, here's a secret kids...

...and my feelings were hurt. Some little toad of man, who was pissed because I kicked him off my property, wouldn't respond to his cheesy flirting, took a look at me and told me I was fat. Some ill-bred, broke ass, bad dressing, turnip of man verbally attacked my physical appearance, and afterwards, (I'm not going to lie) I wanted to tear up a bit because GODDAMMIT my feelings were hurt and I needed a motherfucking hug!

(A hug which I couldn't/wouldn't get, but that's subject matter for a whole 'nother blog!)

My concern, while at work, is to be pleasant, professional, informed, and efficient. Most of the time that includes using cosmetics to subtly highlight my natural beauty. It has been proven that women who wear makeup (but not too much lest you look like a painted harlot) are taken more seriously, and make more money. Also, it makes me feel more confident, despite the ill-fitting totally unflattering uniform I am forced to wear, probably due to some sins in a previous life. It's my war paint, my battle armor, my shield against the outside forces that seek to destroy my confidence one body insult at a time! (Who knew Urban Decay Nearly Naked 2 Palette could be so important? #AmIRight?

#Patriarchy

#SlutShaming

#Karma

But not today. Today I was tired, exhausted, bushed. I opted for 15 more minutes of sleep instead of painting my face. My concern wasn't on my looks, but on just slogging through the day. So to hear this little worm *my apologies to worms, they actually do really nice things for us and make our dirt rich and fertile so that we may grow delicious foods* of a man hit me in my achilles heel, which really should be my achilles thighs, cause I know that's where that bastard was looking. Well, guess what asshole! These thighs could crush your skull like a grape!

Wait, where was I? Oh yes, being a delicate flower of femininity.

I updated one of the guards about the incident, and described what the dude looked like in case he decided to come back. When I mentioned half jokingly that my feelings were hurt, my guard laughed a hearty rich jolly laugh and said "Yeah, right, you're a Marine. You're tough" and I was like...waaah? I let it slide, but the vibe was like "If you're tough you can't have feelings. if you're sensitive, then you can't be tough".

I beg to differ.

Men and women can be both tough and sensitive. To deny one because of the other is detrimental to society as we are seeing daily proof of. Check out Emma Watson's excellent speech regarding feminism here.

I was distraught for a good hour or so after this incident happened.

See above comment about my achilles heel.

It wasn't until I spoke to a woman who had passed by while the last part of the altercation took place that I began to feel better. A woman who happened to rule her employees with an iron fist in an iron glove. (Her company rents out 70% of the office space in our second building, and she's the one that grants me entrance into the privately catered dining facility). She actually yelled "Get him, Erica!" as she walked by, after he asked her for money.

I had texted her the outcome and said the dude called me fat. She texted me back that I was "MAGNIFICENT" and that it's our ROBUST figures that make us intimidating. She also reminded me that even as he was throwing insults he kept walking away. The wimp couldn't even stand up to me.

See earlier comment about crushing skulls with my thighs.

This made me feel LOADS better! She was right! I WAS magnificent! I AM Magnificent! And, while I may still suffer an occasional attack of self confidence (because honestly my weight isn't healthy, and yeah I need to do something about it), I know that I am darn adorable every now and then, and men still call me pretty, cute, and every now and then I am occasionally beautiful.

#OccasionallyBeautiful is now my new emo band name.

So, in parting, kids. Never let some gross-ass, douche-canoe assmunch steal your glow! Remember,