When I was a little girl, there was this game that my mom and me would play.
Mom and I sitting at a table in the food court at our local mall. While watching people, we would insert our own dialogue to stranger’s conversations that were out of our hearing. It would sometimes be sad, sometimes entertaining, sometimes angry. But it was fun. And original. It made me aware of the many varied lifestyles and issues that could be facing strangers you pass on the street. Maybe it helped me from becoming so self absorbed that I didn’t see what was going on to those around me. Whatever the effects on my personality development, it became habit.
Now, if I’m sitting at a red light and I look over and see someone with an expressive face, I automatically concoct some fictional story to go along with them. Maybe it is some lady putting her mascara on while driving. Maybe she is having an affair with a co-worker…or a crush on her married boss.
Or it could be some really old guy with a trucker’s cap on that says something like “I’m a Winner” and I automatically think of some scenario to make that true. Maybe he won a fishing contest, or the jackpot at his Wednesday night bingo game.
Whatever, you get the picture.
So, the other day, I’m sitting in Lowe’s waiting for some blinds to be cut for my grandmother-in-law’s Christmas present. And I start creating inner dialogue for the few people working there.
The lady cutting the blinds was this short, thick Hispanic woman that looked completely miserable. So every time she would lower the skill saw thingy ma jig, I was internally cursing about how bad this fucking job sucks.
There was another woman, older, looked like she should’ve been retired, up on a ladder restocking some cleaning supplies. So I was thinking that SHE was thinking, “If they only knew that just because I’m old doesn’t mean I know jack shit about Pine Sol, they wouldn’t stick me with this bullshit assignment.”
And then there was a flamboyantly gay man in a blue smock that was heading to the gardening center. “What? Just because I’m gay, do they think I give a shit about flowers?” In my fantasy world, I made him an awesome gamer that kicks everyone’s ass at “Modern Warfare”. (That is a game, isn’t it?)
And I thought, what an awesome movie this would be. A little like “The Office”, but with traces of “The Good Girl” without being all boring and shit. We could create a cast that embodies the characters that we run into every day.
I’m pretty sure that stereotypes exists for a reason. Maybe they are not always, always true, but a high percentage of the time, they are dead on.
We could include a hot steamy affair, one with the barely legal cashier boy and the hard ass manager lady that walks around in heels even though she works in a home improvement warehouse. Who is currently, not to her knowledge, being stalked by the lighting associate….that has a basement similar to the one in “Silence of the Lambs”.
You get the picture.
We could have a romantic comedy/thriller/faux documentary, with even a little bit of Sci-Fi thrown in if we make the forklift driver psychic. It would be epic.
Damn. I missed my calling. I should be writing scripts for Hollywood.