Over the years, I have truly loved being a historical interpreter. Well, until last weekend that is. I drove bright and early to my beloved town (city streets were being closed for other events unrelated to the museum....you know, someone was sneezing or something...) I arrived on site to find broken glass and vomit a stellar 2 feet away from the trash can in front of the historic houses. I'm not sure I can throw that stone- I generally miss the trash can too, but I certainly don't throw up in public AND miss the trash can, that's for sure.
There were plenty of people milling through the museum park, but with no interest in the gardens, the buildings, the chickens, bees, Fred the Bunny, or me. I thought it was going to be a quiet day, and I might get through some of the tedious cleaning like washing the windows and trying to convince Charlotte to change her web to a new window. All until I could
hear the fence cracking (I was in the cabin looking at dress patterns) I looked out the kitchen window and
people were STANDING ON THE FENCE. Seriously, in what lifetime does it ever seem like a fantastic idea for an adult (much less a child) to stand on a public fence that's not all that sturdy? And then for more adults to do it too???
Feeling the need to do my job (okay, okay, stupidity always follows the sentence that starts with "doing my job") I went out in my historically accurate costume and teacher voice to proclaim: "Excuse me, you have to get off the fence. It's not safe. Thank you." Most people got done with little grumbling, until I reached Mr. Butthole. I repeated myself 5 or 6 times and he said: "oh F--- off, I don't have to listen to you Ms Muffet." (
Okay, side note here: I thought he said Ms Muppet, so I was incredibly insulted thinking he was trying to call me Miss Piggy or even Kermit and messing it up.) I told him I'd call the police and he said go ahead. Some lady called me a B......
I retraced my steps, telling people to get off the fence and again, another man said no, he paid city taxes so it was his property and he didn't have to get down. By this point, I was so angry I could barely walk.
By the end of the day:
- some kid fell of fence and got hurt (big dam,n duh)
- the police came twice with guns and yelled in that police way (totally trumping my teacher voice... how do they do that?)
- I was insulted, pushed, and threatened
- I got to use a real Bio hazard Waste bag (those are seriously gross by the way)
SO....my final thoughts on the above society citizens:
Mr.I-Don't-Have-to-Listen-to-You: I really, truly hope you are married, have a daughter, and granddaughters. Someday, I hope some wrinkly, old jerkwad calls them names when they are doing the job of their dreams (for very little pay...) Hopefully, this brings them to the breaking point and reminds them that they are only women and lesser, somehow therefore cartoonish/waste of time/and never to be taken seriously. I hope you have to listen to them cry for HOURS and comfort them.
To the Lady that called me a B: I hope your daughter asked you what that was; she's approaching teen years soon. (Oh, and I hope you wrinkle.)
And Mr.I-Pay-Taxes-I-Don't-Have-To: Next time you stop by the history park, please give me your wallet. I'd like a raise as
your employee, and you need to fix your fence (the kid broke it).
Until Next Time...
M
