A John Hancock

Im a very open minded person, i’m stuck in my ways but it takes a lot to surprise me.

Currently living in New England where the accents are strong and the people are a totally new breed for me. Having lived in the USA a while now i figured i’d heard it all. Most importantly, i thought i’d experienced all the awkward language barriers. I currently work on the harbour, sometimes on the boat and the rest of the time in the office.

This particular day was a whopper.
In the office you meet every kind of person. The weirdo who decides to talk to you about his prostate for 20 minutes and the current placement of his scrotum. The woman who wants to know when the 3:00pm trip leaves and the many more.

I’d already had a situation on the local bus where a bloke, who smelt like rotten pizza and bad decisions, kept trying to stare up my shorts. Every time i get on the bus he does this. Without fail. Every.Day. I’ve sat in almost every seat on the bus to try and avoid him. Today was just another day. Until i started to lose my cool and decided to make it obvious that i saw what he was doing. He didn’t stop. His black pervey eyes looking up my thighs like a damn animal in heat.

I got out my phone and openly took at picture of his general nastiness.
He hasn’t done it since.

So, i proceed to work. Already a little riled and a man starts talking to me about his prostate. Openly.
Lets call him Mr.Ball.

Mr.Ball: “Is there a bathroom onboard the boat? My prostrate is in a real way…”

Me: “Yes sir, there is a head onboard.”

Mr.Ball: “I have to pee every few minutes, my wife can hold her bladder for a whole night! Imagine that.”

Me: [smiling] “I’d rather not, Sir. I assure you, we have facilities on board. You needn’t worry.

Mr.Ball: You know, my parts just haven’t been the same since my problem started. They hang ever so strangely.

All the ladies in the office are staring at me and the poor old codger is adjusting his nether pendulums with his forefinger and thumb. Golly, i hope he washes his hands.

A few hours later and i’m pretty sure nothing else odd is going to happen today because what is more out-the-ordinary than talking about soppy bollocks for 20minutes? I mean really?

A man and his wife want to buy two tickets. They were very happy and high spirited, they were on holiday and the day was perfect for a sail. There was the usual pleasantries between the customers and I until he said something i was sure i’d misunderstood.

Sir: [very heavy Bostonian accent] So, do you want my John Hancock?

I was shocked and it happens so rarely i simply stared.
Me: I beg you pardon? What did you just say to me?

Sir: Do you want my John Hancock?

To my ignorant horror… I genuinely thought that he’d asked me to put my hand on his cock.

With his dear sweet wife quite in earshot.

I was stumped and battle ready quite rightly.

I looked at him pretty hard and said nothing.

I printed his tickets and he proceeded to explain what a John Hancock was.

To sign your signature.
I’ve never been more mortified.

What a day.
Just another day in the life of an expat i suppose.
Bloody hell.