Arbitrary Compliment #3: “Are You a Rocka?”

It wasn’t expected, but it’s never expected. And it wasn’t really a compliment – more an observation. But I’ll take it.

Coming back from a grueling hour and a half session at the Oakland DMV, where I asked the clerk’s supervisor, “Did I say something to offend you? No? Then why are you being so rude and patronizing?” I was in need of a large fountain soda. Ever since my drinking days ended, I’ve used fountain sodas, like alcohol, to soothe the pitfalls of the DMV, waiting in line at the grocery store and crackheads in the alley at work – a placebo without the addiction (not so true) and nasty mornings.

Wearing company issued khakis and a dark blue polo with the Chevron logo on the right breast, the clerk at the Extra Mile Chevron Mini-Mart showed her flair and individuality with a gaudy lip piecing and neon colored bangles. Even thought the line was long and customers wore visibly annoyed at the douchebag at the counter paying for a pack of gum with his ATM card, she was personable and looked each customer in the eye. I was impressed and waited quietly.

I put my 44oz drink on the counter. Before I could reach for my wallet, she yelled, “Are you a rocka?” Her faced was crumpled, mouth open and she did kind of a jig to go with the statement. She held the position, waiting for my response.

I looked down at what I was wearing: green, lo-top Converse sneaks, skinny, tight-ish cords from Urban Outfitter, orange belt from H&M, neon purple watch from Nixon, white, argyle t-shirt from Old Navy and a Mayor McCheese head with a Yamaka sized bald spot and a hairline that pays tribute to the right angle! I was the poster boy for age inappropriate dress. But a rocker? More like an old-ass hipster trying way too hard.

I flashed my toothy Osmond smile, looked down at the counter and demurely whispered, “No, more like a poseur. Thank you, though.”

As I walked away, she finally gave me the devil horns and yelled, “Rocka!” Everybody in line gave me the once over as I walked past them.

Time to grow up.