I went to the library to borrow some DVDs we’re planning to watch, but when I handed the librarian my card, it took me a solid 15 seconds to register that I handed her my fucking weed card.
Me, fumbling to swap it out: “OH MY GOD, I AM SO SORRY, I was on total autopilot!!”
The librarian: “It’s all good, I just assumed it was a flex.”
I work in a museum so I am the last person you want to visit a museum with. Unless you want to hear an endless stream of “there is no way this text had input from the educational team for average visitor clarity” “the old woman next to me complained she couldn’t read the didactic panel and she’s right, size 20 font simply isn’t sufficient for this distance and even I can’t read it” and “how does the brand new wing still have coat hooks five and a half feet off the ground in the handicap bathroom stall”
No actually I do want to hear about all that stuff, going to a museum with you sounds fun!