Rejected. Again.
Maybe it was the repulsive stench of fear, desperation, and awkwardness that permeated through every pore of my body.
Maybe it was the robotic spiel where I spit out a thousand words in ninety seconds without coming up for air.
Maybe they watched me rehearse in my rearview mirror. A Comedy of Errors. Practicing my lines, smiling, laughing, acting confident. I look human. A total lie. The guy in the mirror is so much easier to talk to than the guy behind the counter.
Every once in awhile, they throw me a bone. Maybe out of pity. Maybe I'm scaring the customers. Maybe they really do want to help.
But not this time. I go back to the car and drive to another place.
And start working on my lines.
Man In Car
