The American.

Today I started a new job. A job that I've never done before. I walked around the Sea Wall in a certain Vancouver riding canvassing in the sunshine with a certain colour-named party's Candidate for the upcoming provincial election -- MAY 12!
(If I even mention his name, will this be searchable on Google, and will he somehow have to resign for working at all with someone who writes an adult-themed blog? Politics is finicky!!)

I expected the experience to be horrific, door slamming in faces, yelling, obscenities. I expected no one to want to take signs, pamphlets, information. I expected all old people (especially white men) to be voting for the BC Liberals... oh boy! But what I encountered was totally different. Sure, lots of people feigned interest and were non-committal (The candidate was really great with getting them engaged), but lots of people took info, were concerned about the issues, and were actually not totally uninformed. It was a really positive experience.

The only two really negative experiences were two Americans, each on separate occasions. One was a cyclist even, and I felt ashamed of him. The other was unnecessarily harsh and dismissive for the benign-ness of the situation and Damian's requests. I wondered if they just didn't care at all about the place they were living, or hadn't picked up any of the "friendliness", or courtesy of their Northern neighbours.
I try not to stereotype but Americans in other countries seem to carry their American right-of-way attitudes with them. Not all Americans of course. But a distinct trend of US white men between the ages of 35 and 65 seems to crop up in many of the places I have visited.

For instance, in the sex store, we had one customer who we (the clerks) termed "The American". Funny, perhaps, because we had many americans come into the store. Even some american regulars (who often mistook me for an American, even when I say "aboat" instead of "a-bah-out" like they do), but we always knew who we meant when we said "The American".

He was maybe approaching forty. My height, or maybe a little shorter. Obviously some sort of business man, because he always came in wearing a suit, which wasn't entirely usual for our store (some stores downtown that had "Ram Lounges" upstairs, had judges coming in off their recesses in court to parttake in the upstairs "men's meeting place"...but a high-powered man in our neck of the woods was rare). He was maybe just about the stature of a real estate agent.

Once or twice a week, The American (I think we learned his name eventually) would come into the shop and get about $50 worth of $2 coins for the internet viewing booths. He would disappear into the booths for hours, just until I would have totally forgotten he was there, and then he'd re-emerge for another $50 of internet porn. He would smoke in the booths, even though we repeatedly asked him not to, and would butt them out on the vinyl floor of the booths.

The American was annoying, but needed to be tolerated for the revenue he brought to the store. The really funny thing about the American, was that every few hours we would hear his phone ring, and he would come bolting out of the booth -- porn blaring -- and run for the door. Once outside, he would answer his phone while standing in the doorway and explain to his wife that he was at the Salvation Army, a meeting, shopping with his mother, or what have you. It was amazing and shocking and oddly mesmerizing to hear this man so blatantly lie to his wife, who would then question him -- she must have suspected -- only to have him come up with a further lie to buy him at least another hour or two in the booth. But if she'd called more than three times, he knew, it was time to jet.

Colin (my co-worker) told me that once he had forgotten his phone and had to call his wife from the store phone, which on call display turns up under the shops old name "Club Femme", I believe. After he left to return to his wife, she called back the number and asked Colin what kind of store this was. Knowing what was up I think he told her it was a clothing store for women or something else that wasn't entirely untrue, but concealed the true nature of where her husband had been.

This fellow, not only treated us brusquely, and generally like automaton workers, but obviously was not in the most sharing relationship in the world. The demeanour and the "I-don't-have-time-for-you-so-fuck-off" attitudes of all three of these seemingly unconnected white men, were puzzling and unnecessarily aggressive while simultaneously being dismissive.

Maybe being a young, far-left, gentle and friendly crunchy hippy has put our attitudes in opposition, but if that's what it means to be a "true American" I'd rather stay north of the border.

*Along with the provincial election, there is also a vote on electoral reform! Vote yes for BC-STV! Check it out at http://www.bcstv.ca