Do I Know You?

The following blog was originally posted from my old blog, The Geejay Journal:

I’m known in my family to possess a poor memory. It’s so bad sometimes that I totally forgot that I already made a comment about something. The funny thing about it is that I make the exact same comment, word for word. Raquel gets annoyed and/or amused when I do that. After doing it a few times (unintentionally, mind you) I think she’s more annoyed now than amused though.

One of my fears is that I encounter somebody along a busy street whom I’m supposed to have met before and I won’t remember his or her name. When that happens, the best I can do is avoid mentioning the person’s name so I greet him/her with “Hi.” That’s it. At least, I’m pretty good with remembering faces though. I know that I’ve met someone before even if I cannot remember that person’s name.

I just wonder though how people could mistake another person for someone else?

Yesterday on the way home while waiting for the Sandringham line train to arrive at the station, I decided to get something to eat. There was a food stall at the platform where I was waiting where they sell these 70 cent bathing-in-cooking-oil potato “cakes”. I don’t know why I like that bland greasy junk but I do so I went over to the stall to buy one.

There were two attendants at the stall and while the Indian fellow was serving me my potato cake, the mustached Caucasian, possibly Russian, had this look of sudden enlightement on his face. That wasn’t the first time I bought a potato cake at that particular stall and that wasn’t the first time I saw the Caucasian with his “I know who you are!” look on his face. He smiled and greeted me, “Hi. How’re you doing?”

“I’m good. Thanks,” I replied. I wanted to get out of there as soon as I could but like I said, these potato cakes are greasy so I had to ask the Indian, “Can I have serviettes (aka table napkins/tissues) please? Thanks.”

Before the Indian could hand me a folded tissue, the other fellow continued to talk to me. He said, “It’s been a long time. How’s your wife?”

“Do I know you?” I should’ve asked him but decided not to do so. I just want to get away and the quickest way to do that, I thought at the time, was to give him the answer he’s expecting. I replied, “She’s good.”

I took the serviette, wrapped it around my dripping potato cake and started to walk away when the mustached guy asked another question, “How are your kids?”

I stopped. Kids? I said, “I’m sorry?”

He repeated the question and added, “How is your little boy?”

That was when I knew for sure that I didn’t know the guy. I didn’t answer the question immediately. I was thinking of telling him that I in fact do not have kids yet but I was hesitant because that would mean talking to this person a while longer. And it would most likely embarass him. But I did not want to lie to him either.

When I didn’t answer, he asked, “How’s your family?”

Now that question I can answer truthfully. “We’re good. Thanks,” I said. Then I ended the conversation by walking away while saying to him, “see ya.”

Well, I wasn’t exactly being truthful because I did know that when he asked about my family he meant my wife and my kids. I told Raquel about the incident and also told her that I couldn’t buy anything from that stall again. I don’t know what to say to the mustached guy if I see him again. Do I tell him the truth and all the while tell him that I decieved him the other time we talked? Do I go on with the charade? Or do I just avoid him and spare both of us further embarassment?

Heh. Those greasy potato cakes can’t possibly be healthy for me anyway.

Published in: on November 19, 2004 at 10:59 am  Leave a Comment  

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