Pri
Well, I’m no saint that I can tell
you. During my life I have had many troubles with authority figures, now I
guarantee you I’m more relaxed and don’t go against authority anymore (unless I
think I’m right).
If I tell all my troubles in here,
probably I won’t finish this today! (LOL)
Although, I’ve been thinking which
one was the funniest nowadays. Maybe, it was the one in which I had a fight
with a hallway inspector (actually at school I had huge problems – I hated
school)! Well, with the same inspector I had two problems.
My school was very strict about
wearing uniforms, and my uniform was sky blue, really more like Smurfs blue.
So, the director said to all inspectors that we (students) should only wear
white or blue sweatshirt/jackets/blouses, and these clothes shouldn’t have any
picture. But something that stupid director forgot to say was that the picture
shouldn’t be BIG…
Can you imagine what kind of problem
I had? Yes, in one day I was wearing a white sweatshirt, but it had a tiny
brand written on the right-top and the inspector complained about it asking me
to take off my sweatshirt. Of course I said no, I just had that blouse, and I
was cold, so wouldn’t take it off.
So suddenly he started to yell, all
my classmates were looking at me, I got really angry and said bad things to the
man. Ok, I’m not proud of that, and I know he was just doing his job, but I
hated (and still hate) when people
“single me out” in front of others without me being.
The result was a silly thing: the
coordinator calls my mom, the inspector and me to talk. I had to apologize to
the inspector, he apologized too and after that the director said to all
workers from school since students’ blouses are blue or white and just a have a
small picture there wasn’t a problem to use that.
I think I started a revolution
without knowing that. J However, nowadays I see
many students from the same school I’d studied wearing any color…
Yuri
Well.
Despite being pretty much an authority-questioner, I don't really get in
trouble with persons who have some kind of authority. I learned to dodge
conflicts and arguments with my parents long ago - life here has gotten much
more decent since this, and it's actually funny to see how my brothers get in
trouble with them and get mad at it.
I've
never gotten in trouble with teachers, except for one time back in seventh
grade when I accidentally called my teacher a douche, and one time in fifth
grade - but this one isn't much of trouble: I woke up that morning feeling
sick, but my mother sent me to school all the same. It was a test day. During
the test, I got to feel mighty bad, and when I felt I couldn't take it anymore,
I raised my hand and said 'Teach, I don't feel well'. Surprisingly, the hag
said 'Ah, whatever'. I still repeated the sentence two times. And after the
second time, I barfed all over the Maths test. and stood there, dumb, not
knowing what to do. All the guys around me were laughing and pointing at me,
and the girls were like 'Eeeewwww', and I felt like shit, Then, the teacher
calmly grabbed the classroom phone, dialed the director's number and asked
him 'Hey, some dude here just threw up. What should I do?' - she was so
matter-of-fact about it - ; then one school inspector came rushing through the
corridor and took me to the infirmary like lightning. That sucked big time.
Now, for
some policeman stuff. I never actually got in trouble with them - mainly, I
think, because I don't do things that might turn into a reason for them to
bother me. And because I'm a white, blondish, clean-shaved boy. Anyway, I don't
fear 'em, 'cause I never give 'em reasons to pick on me or bother me. Well,
whatever. So one time - oh, I think I already told you this story, Cyn - I was
walking back home at night, in the empty and dangerous streets of Rebouças. I
had my hood on, and walked like a drug dealer, hands deep in the pockets, feet
ready to run like a madman at the slightest sign of someone suspicious. I was
two blocks from my house, and already thanking God almighty for passing safe
and sound through the worst part. Then along comes a police car with two
policemen inside, slowly, and stops by the corner just some twenty meters ahead
of me. I release a deep sigh of relief, for now I was safe - but better take
off that suspicious hood and walk like a decent person. I let the streetlights
illuminate my face. They approached me slowly, still in the car, and I kept
walking my way. They got to me and one of them cried 'Hands on your head', to
which I promptly responded by placing quickly but softly and matter-of-factly
my hands on my head. Guy got out of his car and asked me where was I
going, and I said with perfect, polite pronunciation I was returning home. At
this moment, he got to look me in the eyes, and I think my smart way of
talking and my upper-class face threw away his suspicions. He poked
lightly my front pockets and asked me if I had any drugs or guns with me. That
got me by surprise. I laughed, and said 'No way, I'm just a student' -
ironically forgetting that students frequently carry drugs, especially
Humanities students. Then he smiled and said 'OK, good night' and I said 'Good
night' like a gentleman and ran back home laughing light-heartedly.
And
that's all, folks.
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