Too Much Information

You’ve run into them before.  And by the time they’re done with you, you’re looking for somewhere else to run.  They’re that strange species known as the Too Much Information People.

I have this weird thing where I attract these people who want to tell me all kinds of things about themselves that I’d really rather not know.

At my old part-time job, I went into the break room to grab a pop and a candy bar (because breakfast is the most important meal of the day).

The payroll guy, Bob, was in there sloshing around a Slime Fast shake. He said a couple of casual, normal enough things and I made the mistake of saying something about the can of Slime Fast being his snack-break or whatever.

I had no idea what I was in for.

He proceeded to tell me that he likes them because “they kept him regular”!

Well I didn’t see that coming.

I shrieked mentally to myself in horror and looked wildly around for a direction to run.  This has happened before, but not with that particular subject.  I was utterly flabbergasted.

I threw the coins into the vending machine with lightning speed whilst he continued to ramble on about “his daughter would go only about once every 10 days. 10 days! Could I imagine that? [He] didn’t know how she could stand to go only once every 10 days. Wouldn’t I think that would make a person feel ill? [He’d] get all bound up if it took him that long.  Boy, he didn’t know how she did that…” 

I looked at my reflection in the vending machine and startled myself at how obvious my horror was. I don’t think Bob cared, though. He was utterly oblivious, entranced with his own story-weaving skills.

I looked frantically around then to make sure no one else was even remotely close to the break room. What if someone heard him and there I stood, like I had something to do with his family’s bowel woes! I shifted my weight from foot to foot in preparation to bolt.  I didn’t want anyone thinking I had anything to do with his babbling about being bound up like the Hoover Dam. Yeeesh.

What kinds of visions did he think that would promote?  Bob on the john? ARGH! Noooooo!  It’s the stuff nightmares are made of.

I mumbled, “Uh-huh, uh-huh…hmmm, fascinating…gottagonowbye!”

Thankfully, the vending machines spewed their wares without jamming and I was able to run for cover back to my desk and wipe the sweat from my brow. Not that I felt like eating anything anymore.

Shortly thereafter, I left my part-time job there and was riding along on a paper route with some guy. Harmless enough, eh?

I should have been prepared but I was tired and he blind-sided me. THAT guy proceeds to tell me how he “wasn’t feeling great, had the runs, I knew how that was, right?  Stomach trouble, must have eaten something…blah, blah…”

ARGHHHHH! I scream internally. Not again! What do I look like, a giant roll of Charmin?

It’s simply amazing some of the things people you don’t really know will dump (no pun intended) at your feet.