I really hate “kid talkers”.
You know who I mean. Those breeders that somehow manage to turn every conversation to “little Johnny did the cutest thing at soccer yesterday”.
Well, I’ve been stuck with one all goddamn week. And I have just about reached my threshold.
It’s the sales guy who got roped into this conference with me.
He’s a typical sales guy. Young. Handsome. Gregarious. Married. Racist.
And every day we have a one hour commute (each way) between my hotel and the conference site.
Plenty of time to listen to sports talk radio and be regaled with stories about his sons.
Oddly enough it turns out he has three kids– two boys and one girl. But I didn’t even realize he had a daughter until it accidentally slipped out yesterday.
He obviously doesn’t care about her; it’s ALL about proud papa’s “sons”.
Before the brief mention of the girl, it was “Boy 1 did this at flag football. Boy 2 had a Halloween party at school and he went as a pirate”.
Blah blah fuckin’ blah.
I’m ready to stab my brain out. Seriously.
I honestly think I’m gonna snap if I hear about son 1’s ear infection or how son 2 loves to cuddle and draw one more goddamn time!
Why do these folks feel compelled to regale us with every insignificant detail of their brood’s doings?
And how do they not realize that we don’t give a flying fuck about any of it?