Unpleasant dialogues, followed by a more personal epilogue

* I will be referred to as Hero.

An Auspicious Beginning
Owner (to manager): Is this the new kid?
(I put forth my cold hand for handshake).
Hero: Hi, I'm Bryan.
Manager (to owner): Yeah, that's him.
(Owner grabs my hand but refuses to shake).
Owner: (heartlessly) Good luck. (Quickly turns and leaves.)
Manager: Yeah, he's like that.

Pick Your Poison
Tobacco Man: Can I get, uh, De Maurier Light King Size? (cigarettes)
Hero: Sure (I struggle to find these. I must appear incompetent). Which one is that?
Tobacco Man: It's that one there, with the guy choking on the front.
Hero: Ah. This one?
Tobacco Man: No, no. That guy is wheezing. I want the choking guy!
Hero: Oh, oh, okay.

Irony Bells
Angry White Man: Ya know my (expletive) wife made me come all the (expletive(s)) way down here to buy some (expletive) cigarettes! (Expletives) I mean, she's (expletive) retarded.
(Car Passes)
Beat
Angry White Man: Wow! Will ya look at that? That's gotta be a 1940's Chevy. At least someone in the world has class.

I'm sorry, I'm not Kevin Costner
Shameless American Wannabe: I just got back from the field (baseball; not oil) and I hit a real whopper! Great sport, huh? You play ball?
Hero: No, I'm Canadian.
(Blank stare)
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After slaving six days, and nearing death several times, I'm suffering post-working-six-days-after-extended-unemployment-period depression. I've needed solitary time to recharge my batteries. But my batteries are like no-name batts and my recharger is busted. It's on these blue, melancholic days I desire to trade places with Aung San Suu Kyi and be on my lonesome in some shelter structure surrounded by a military junta; suffering for democracy to improve living conditions. Of course Aung San Suu Kyi cannot scroll through itunes and find solace in The Format, or Jesus (not on itunes, obviously), because I think she's a Buddhist, but don't hold me to that. But you may hold me to this: Sometimes the most radiant, bright music won't lift your spirits.