Another B-Love Moment for the library.
We have little men and women that come around our offices and clean. We affectionately call them “the blue guys” because of their dark navy uniforms that you simply can’t miss in our arid, dusty brown scenery.
My coworker and I have made friends with our blue guy. Okay, not really, but we try to always be nice and say hello when he comes in. He only knows a few English words (they’re all from India, Bangladesh, etc.), but after slow-talking and making hand gestures long enough he usually gets what we’re saying.
Or fakes exceptionally well.
Occasionally people will pay the blue guy a few dollars to mop the floor, sweep the dust out of the office, etc (I have no idea why they aren’t required to do that anyway). Well, the other day one of my coworkers had the blue guy mop her office. Another one of the guys in our building came into our office and said, “How did she get Hajji to clean the floors?” We then explained the elaborate hand motions and slow talking you must use with the blue guy, and he finally caught on. “Great! Send Haji my way when he’s done!”
“His name is Hajji?” I ask. “I didn’t realize he actually spoke much. It’s nice that you can talk to him. I’ll have to remember his name so I can say hello the next time he comes.”
“Yeah, you should do that,” the guy said.
So, later that day I needed the blue guy- Hajji. I thought it was great that I actually knew his name.
I saw him a little off in the distance, so I called, “Hajji!”
He didn’t even flinch. He kept walking, his back towards me.
“Hajji!”
Nothing.
Finally I call, “HAAAAAAGEEEEEEE,” as if I’m calling for my long lost Calico.
He finally turns around, and with a puzzled look says (in his uber thick Indian accent- think the convenience store guy on the Simpsons), “My name is Sawatt!”
“Not Hajji?”
He violently shakes his head no.
“Huh.”
We finish our conversation. We finish our game of charades, and I head back to the office.
I told my coworker, “The blue guy’s name is Sawatt! I was yelling for him by the wrong name.”
“What were you yelling?”
“Hajji! That’s what J said his name was!”
Quiet pause.
Giant erruption of laughter.
....
3 minutes later-
“Brittny! Hajji is the name of a Muslim that has made the trip to Mecca- to the freaking HAJJ! He was being tacky!”
Oh my freaking goodness.
I was so embarrassed. I’m sure my friend “Hajji” totally went and told his other blue guy friends what a disrespectful idiot the blonde in the office down the street is.
Okay, so it’s not “funny ha-ha.” You pretty much either have to live in the Middle East or had to be with me for this to seem even remotely humorous. I figured I should chronicle this story, though. Just to remember what a nut I can be sometimes....
okay- most of the time.
I’m off to enjoy the extended weekend!
That is so something I would do. If there is ever an opportunity to insert my foot in my mouth, I take it. The taste of feet is always there, lingering in the back of my throat.