Let me set the mood: It was homecoming season a few weeks ago. The school was crawling with teenage girls all looking to get up-dos, manicures, and pedicures before their big night. I was washing this girls greasy mane when:
“Are you Japanese?”
Her inquiry was out of the blue, yes, but I get these types of questions quite often. “No, I’m not Japanese.”
“Well, you look like you are,” she said with an audible snark in her tone.
So sorry to have disappointed you, my dear, I’ll try harder to please you the next time you ask such an uncouth question.
I went on to politely explain the smorgasbord of ethnicities that run through my veins but she got bored and called someone on her cell phone. What she didn’t realize is that I had control of the water temperature and, even worse for her, I controlled the direction of the water spray. I could have EASILY shot her in the face with a blast of icy, cold water.
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