A new Dumb-Ass has recently joined the team at work. The new Dumb-Ass is a young kid, the descendent of the American equivalent to landed gentry, and has been living on his own in Atlanta for the past few years developing a fairly impressive drug problem. Under his family’s guidance, he moved back to the area to clean up. Instead of staying attached to his mothers hip an hour out in the countryside like he should have, he called in some nepotistic favors to procure employment at my workplace, and signed a lease for his own apartment in Mt. Vernon. I’m not judging in regards to the drug problem; but deciding to clean up by moving to central Baltimore and getting a job in an environment where half the staff are addicts in their own right?

Brilliant plan, Dumb-Ass.

I saw the Dumb-Ass when I went into work last night. He was heading out and won’t be able to work for the next week. The entire left side of his face was black, blue, orange, yellow, scraped up and had a line of stitches leading from his cheekbone into his temple. Apparently, he had stumbled out of a bar the night before when one of the neighborhood addicts asked him for “bus-fare.” The Dumb-Ass supposedly told him to go do something to himself and get a job, and then turned his back and walked down the street. The next thing Dumb-Ass knew, the asker-of-bus-fare was introducing his face to the sidewalk.

Now that’s a surprising turn of events, Dumb-Ass.

I’m a sympathetic guy. Hell, in this case I’m even an empathetic guy. I’ve walked out of my share of bars barely able to walk. Lord knows I’ve yelled a few epithets into the faces of people asking me for “bus-fare.” Hopefully, I’ve never yelled anything as uninspired or redundant as “get a job,” but I can appreciate the sentiment. It’s the assholes who actually give out “bus-fare” when they’re in my neighborhood who’s faces I want to introduce to the sidewalk.

After I was finished laughing at him, I did something I never do and actually tried to give him some advice.

“If you’re stumbling out of a bar, and you tell a crack head to go fuck himself, don’t take your eye off of hi--”

“Yeah, well,” he dismissively interrupted, “I was drunk and I wasn’t thinking.”

Excuse me? Are did you just interrupt me? Did you just use being drunk as an excuse for not paying attention... to ME? I don’t care if you can’t remember your name. I don’t care if you can barely walk. As long as there are assholes who are willing to give drug addicts in the neighborhood “bus-fare” you have no way to anticipate what to expect from every asshole who accosts you on the street. I wouldn’t recommend telling them “to get a job,” although I can appreciate your sentiment. You keep an eye out. If you see someone walking up on you, or feel that someone is walking up on you from behind, walk or stumble across the street. You don’t ever take your eye off them. Never leave anyone with the impression that you don’t realize that they’re there. If you do, you’re going to find yourself having to take a few more weeks off of work.

Or you can ignore me and learn for yourself. Either way, welcome to the neighborhood, Dumb-Ass.