PlatKat.com: Lessons in Douche-Baggery

Wednesday, June 07, 2006

Lessons in Douche-Baggery

Guys hit on me all the time. Most of them are random douche bags and I forget them even before they leave my field of vision. But every now and then, a really special douche bag comes along, with qualities that completely transcend all that is douche-baggedly such that we have not properly coined a term for such enormous douche-baggedness.

Hey, Douche Bag that tried to pick me up last week, this post's for you.

I decided to join Adeline and Ron for a few hours of karoake at my neighborhood cocktail bar, the Canary Roost. We parked and decided to have a cigarette before going inside. We chatted for a few moments when Douche Bag sat down next to me and joined our conversation.

Normally, I don't mind when people join my conversations, especially when the setting lends itself to it. As long as you're friendly and mildly interesting, you're okay with me. Of course, that was not the case here, as the conversation quickly headed south.

I think we were talking about anti-smoking laws, and Douche Bag took the opportunity to talk about all the places he's lived (or goes, whatever), such as the San Francisco Bay Area and Manhattan. He did it with an air of snobbery, attempting to non-verbally communicate that he was very cool and well-traveled. Due to the nature of his job, which he all but openly stated is way better than any of our jobs, he travels all the time and is probably the coolest guy we will ever meet.

Well, I happen to know something about the two places he mentioned, having lived in one and being in the process of moving to another, so I entertain the topic. We talked about living in the Bay Area for awhile. I said I worked at Intuit and he cockily said, "I love stealing their people." I maintained that it was a good company and I enjoyed my time there, and he scoffed, "Heh, yeah, it was a good company." This kind of talk continued for awhile.

Man, this guy is so cool. I wanna have his babies!!

Then I purposely worked into the conversation that my boyfriend (DING DING DING! sirens! not interested! go away!) got a job at Bloomberg and we're in the process of relocating to Manhattan. He asked me what my boyfriend did. When I said he was a programmer, he immediately launched into a futile argument that he could get my boyfriend a better job. Besides the fact that Gus had started his job less than a week ago... no!! Bloomberg is a prestigious financial company in the heart of one of the most amazing cities in the world. Gus is a brilliant, attractive, super-cool guy who doesn't need a fucking douche bag recruiter to find him a job. Just... no!!

I politely tried to tell him several times that Gus was happy with his new position, but this guy just wouldn't let up. Finally, I gave him my card and said, "Hey, it sounds like you have some really interesting leads. Why don't you e-mail them to me and I'll pass them along to my boyfriend and he can tell you if he's interested?"

Some people might find that ballsy, but the card doesn't have my cell on it and I'm not in the office that much anyway. Regardless, I knew Douche Bag couldn't top Bloomberg. We both knew it from the second he started discussing it.

So then he looks at my card and gathers that I'm a tech writer. He couldn't sell me on getting work for Gus, so I guess he figured he'd try to sell me on getting a new job for myself. Also a futile attempt. I love my job. I love it so much that instead of getting a new job making more money in New York, I'm going to work there remotely as long as I can.

Forgetting that I am moving to New York soon, and showing that he hasn't been listening to a word I've said (because New York is pretty much all I can talk about these days), he starts throwing around names of Austin tech companies. "You wanna work at AMD? I got loads of contacts there." I live in Northwest Austin, I really don't see the point in commuting to the southern tip of the city. "Freescale." Don't make me laugh! I know what they pay their writers, and it's not close to what I make. When he said, "Dell," I burst out laughing. No, I don't want to work at Dell. The people at Dell don't even want to work at Dell.

Again, I said, "Look, send me some information about what you have and we'll talk. I don't feel like we're getting much accomplished here."

He looks at my card and says, "Kat?" like he's spitting it out. "That's your name? What's that short for? Kathy? Katrina?" Not that it's important, but it's short for Katherine, which very few people call me. I actually find it rather annoying when people try to pick apart my name. It is not particularly uncommon, and it's a very nice name in my opinion. For some reason though, a certain set of the population can't just take it for what it is and they need to find out what it's short for and call me that like they have some kind of insider info even though they hardly know me. Why does it matter? Plus, they always guess incorrectly, as Kathy is actually a nickname for Kathleen, and Katrina is not a name for whiteys, and I am clearly a whitey. Beyond that, when you get someone's card and it says, "Rob," do you go into a fucking tirade about what it's short for? Even the world's largest douche bag doesn't do that.

Anyway, I'm clearly sick of talking to this asshole and my annoyance is showing. My cigarette is over and I want to go inside and listen to people butcher Carly Simon and Jimmy Buffet songs. I told him that Kat was the name on the card and that's what people call me. He was rather offended by this. He said, "God, why do you have to be so offensive?"

That was my cue to stand up and go inside. Don't interrupt a conversation that I'm having with my friends, spout off about some self-important bullshit, and then start insulting me when you find I'm clearly not interested in anything you have to say. He cornered Adeline and Ron outside of course, and I sat inside with my sidekick for awhile.

It should end here, but it doesn't.

Finally, everyone comes in. Douche Bag goes and sits on the other side of the bar with his douche bag friends. We order our first round of drinks. Douche Bag somehow conveys from across the bar that he wants to buy us shots to apologize or something. But instead of sending them to us like a gentleman, he makes us go over there. I do so reluctantly, as Adeline had taken a shine to one of Douche Bag's friends, who had the same craptastic personality and snot-nosed attitude. We drink. Hooray. And then Douche Bag opens his fucking mouth again. "Hey, I'm sorry about the misunderstanding, but you shouldn't be so offensive..." I don't remember how I responded, but I said something to the effect that he was the one who sat down with my friends and I and he was welcome to leave our group at any time. Also, he can't offer me anything that I could possibly want, so he should either chill out and just have a normal conversation or leave me alone. He said, "I'm just treating you the way I treat my customers." I said, "I'm not one of your customers" and he shut the fuck up and left me alone the rest of the night. Thank you!

People whose entire approach revolves around the "I'll hook you up" motto are really abrasive. If you want to talk to me, sit down and talk to me. I don't need to hear about how great you are or what great promises you're going to make just so you can reneg on them later. Talk about something cool, talk about something sad, talk about your bird-watching grandma. But don't walk around me flaunting shit like you got something.

As an aside, technical recruiter? Give me a break. Technically speaking, they're about as knowledgeable as I can throw them. The ones I've met know very little about the skills different people in the industry possess and how they apply them. They're not all douche bags, but at least one of them is.

posted by platkat @ 5:26 PM