Word: stared
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...only the pull-down metal gates covering the signs for A.J.’s Grill and Bok Choy. Of course, Loker is always home to the fun-loving Math Question Help Center, and it can provide a bit of divertissement from hard work—one can always stare at the hypnotic, nonsensical color swirls on the black screen in back...
...couldn’t jump into the intended frivolity with this, my first column. The crumpled, thumbed-through Glamour is sitting on my coffee table, the same all-teeth smiling model giving anyone and everyone who will look at her that “come hither” stare. But the capriciousness symbolized by my monthly dose of fashion and fornication tips leave a stale taste in my mouth. Reading about boyfriend tips and diet fads—in general my mindless Saturday afternoon activity—has become, to some extent, trite or insipid...
...exhale. Some people clap at this point, probably relieved that the wait is over; I don’t, as I believe I would be overly compensating the techie who turned down the house lights. Instead, I shut the playbill in my lap, fold my arms, and simply stare at the stage. It doesn’t matter whether I’m about to see a show for the first time or the fifteenth, that moment still gets...
Anyway, who needs treaties these days in China? The oddity of my white-skinned, wide-eyed appearance alone elevates me to stop-and-stare status. In the ever-mopped, ever-muddied hallways of the private English schools where I work, a foreign teacher enters and the mass of students and parents parts, the kids gazing in what looks a lot like amazement and the adults nodding in satisfaction. On a field trip, thirty or so Chinese children mobbed me for autographs. I signed school-logo baseball caps, t-shirt sleeves, t-shirt backs—and all three for some?...
...other side of the warm welcome, the employee’s greatest fear is accidentally greeting the same customer twice. This is a perfectly understandable occurrence, especially on busier days. But while most customers are very patient with employee lapses, the double-greet usually results in an unsettling stare. This stare is more quizzical than disdainful, but it still strikes fear into the heart of even the most intrepid sales associate. Does courtesy, however redundant, warrant an apology? Would a rapid retreat into the camouflage of the throw-pillow racks be an act of cowardice, or one of judicious modesty...