Today I got barked at, and not by a dog.
The barking came from male voices in a white builder’s van slowly cruising by as I crossed the street.
I had just returned from an interview at a university and was playing the part of “Professional Christy.” My heels and skirt did not seem to be the sort of costume to welcome and encourage this kind of attention.
Especially the barking. That’s just weird. A whistle might have been okay.
It caught me off guard because my mindset at the time was not whistle-worthy.
I was not walking along, aloof and on display, my head was thinking!! I had used a lot of BIG words during the interview! I had talked about my professional achievements and all things I done GOOD!! I was feeling SMART! My mind was focused and confident. Didn’t I look focused and confident and professional?
Confident and professional people don’t get whistled (or barked) at. They are admired from afar.
When I was in college, I drove a battered, but still somewhat admirable red ‘68 Mustang. I loved it, but it did not love me, and it was constantly returning to my step-father’s garage so that he could give it the kind of love it needed. Usually engine parts. I just said nice things to it and begged it to keep running.
Once, I remember, I was cruising along the freeway, when a pick-up truck pulled along next me and kept pace. For about a mile I could sense this truck sticking with me, and from the corner of my eye, I could tell they were a couple of guys. They were trying to get my attention.
I ignored them and focused ahead on the road. After another mile or so, they were still keeping pace, so I quickly glanced to my left. When I looked, they waved at me frantically and excitedly, and motioned for me to roll down my window. So I did. Over the din of freeway traffic and wind, they shouted garbled words at me.
“What?!” I shouted back.
With huge grins and two thumbs up they shouted, “NICE CAR!” Then they sped away.
Yay! I thought. I have a cool car! A few seconds passed, and then . . . . . Hey! They weren’t interested in ME! 😦
I suppose the point here is that sometimes I wonder why I didn’t get a whistle, and sometimes I’m offended that I did. I guess, this time, I did not feel l looked whistle-worthy (or bark-worthy) returning from the interview and was a bit offended.
But who knows . . . . . . . . ? Maybe the builders were barking at my attractive brain.