It's Me!

Yesterday I quoted Mr. Sponsorpants who has a blog that I follow regularly. Today I am myself.  "Ms. Smartypants" comes to mind as a fair moniker for me. A main trait of mine is known in varying circles as "the gift of blarney". I can spin a tale, trade sarcasms with the best of the sharp tongued devils I have met and, on many an occasion, appear to know far more about a subject than I actually know. I know enough to give me the threads of a conversation which coupled with my gift for gab fools some of the people some of the time. There is a saying used in a group I attend. It goes like this: "I am frequently wrong but I'm never in doubt." Voila! C'est moi! (For folks who did not 'parlez the francais' in high school the interpretation, southern style, is "that's me folks!")

Desperate for a change of topic the frogs singing around the swimming pool tonight are loud enough for me to hear in my bedroom. The impact lessens as reality demands that I remind the reader that I live in an aluminum condominium or mobile home or trailer depending on preference. The walls are thinner than in a "real" house. I love the smugness of folks who think trailers are not real houses. Mine has real people in it. Real pets dominating the environment. Real furniture. Real relationships. Real food. It can be seen using Google Earth. How real does a house need to be to qualify for the "house" honor. Yes, I know that the big, bad wolf could huff and puff and blow my house down faster than a brick house or a sturdy home made of wood. If a wolf did blow it over would he be blowing over less than a house? I can hear you suggesting that I am confusing "house" and "home" with each other. I have a home in my trailer. I do not have a home in a house. Why is it that a bit of shame haunts me when I say to someone that I live in a trailer and in a trailer park? I know a woman who, after years of knowing me, still looks at me as if to say, "You poor thing." My first instinct is to punch her in the nose to deflate her a bit. My second instinct is a wee sense of shame as if I have made an unforgiveable mistake by virtue of my residence. I finally coped with this woman by removing myself from her circle of friends. Her house sits on the side of a golf course and has a lovely yard and a beautiful interior with deep carpet and expensive furniture she bought in her first marriage when she was wealthy. I like it. I won't lie. I don't want to live there nor do I envy her but I can be honest and tell you that her house is lovely and in a lovely neighborhood.

Time to switch subjects. Oh how I do ramble on about one thing or the other. I worked today. I work from home. I am a customer service agent using a telephone and computer from home. I like the work and the flexible hours. I am beginning to notice the personality differences of customers associated with the company that is hosting their conference. Financial companies tend to have participants who are nice but easy to frustrate. Fast food companies have many Hispanic managers. Customers who call in that work for auto part companies are friendly, kinda down to earth in their responses. A demographics of sorts is developing in my mind based on my interactions with customers who work for different types of companies. I spend an average of 45 seconds on line with each person. Those short periods of time spread over a length of time develop discernible patterns, predictable conclusions that I draw from while answering calls. It is not my imagination. A true call center agent with a curiosity about people and a head for drawing conclusions from multiple sources of data can infer with a high degree of predictability how defined groups of people will respond on the average. Or, to keep it southern, "Folks is folks." It is a "fish gotta swim, birds gotta fly" parallel.

Putting on the brakes now! Preparing to close out. Building the courage to face a sink full of dishes, two bossy cats and a litter box. Might watch Criminal Minds and learn how make-believe psychotics kill people. Might come in handy if I ever want to be a make-believe psychotic. "Back off 'varmints' I'm a make-believe psychotic with an inferiority complex. Them's the worst kind!"

Sweet dreams!