My boss/landlord came down the stairs to my in law studio underneath her house to ask me if I was interested in joining her family for dinner that evening. Totally unprepared but intrigued I jumped at the opportunity for a free dinner. She mentioned that her cousin’s daughter was 22 years old and contemplating the move to San Francisco from a small college town in Vermont.
This could be a chance for me to take an SF newby under my wing. If not for reasons of her moving at lest for the week she was visiting. I WISH I had some 24 year old eager to show me around SF when I first moved here.
Committed to setting this plan into motion, I carefully planned out my outfit after work to give me an “I’m surviving this city flawlessly and with so much elegance, but I haven’t let it get to my head” kind of vibe.
Top knot, check.
Light makeup, check.
Trade my chambray shirt and leggings for an LBD, check.
Add neutral granny cardi, black tights, and boots, check.
When I finally met this girl at dinner, she had this awkward coolness to her that most 22 year old soon to be college graduates have. It’s like they have this air about them that says they are ready for the world, but are willing to admit they know nothing and absolutely are not willing to admit they’re scared shitless. I know, I was there 2 years ago myself. Jk, still there.
She talked like a teenager that was allowed to cuss in front of adults and used public speaking hand gestures which was just unnecessary. She came to San Francisco on an unusually warm day and didn’t get the memo that she would need a coat in the evening to go over her short, white dress that was paired with a plastic chunky orange necklace and combat boots.
Turns out she’s a gamer chick. Not the programming kind that you’re likely to meet, but more on the business side. That didn’t bother me, though. I grew up with an older brother who passed down gaming consoles to me which I think has lead me to be that girl who will forever need approval by game playing men by attempting to play the games myself. I’m not good by any means, but I know my way around those kinds of people. More on that emotional trauma later.
She spent one full day in the city and automatically assumed she knew more. I haaaaate that.
“So, Dad, instead of taking a taxi over here I took this thing called Lyft. Alyssa, you should try it. You know the fuzzy pink mustaches? That’s Lyft. My driver was so cool. We had a great conversation about the city and its like getting a ride with your friend. It’s better than a taxi and would probably save you guys money. It was cool too because my driver drove his own car I think.”
Without seeming defensive (which is hard for me), I dropped my knowledge. I explained that all Lyft drivers drive their own car and that Lyft is more of a community and not to be compared to a taxi because they provide different experiences for the passenger. I also tried to discuss the war between Lyft, Uber, and the taxis and mentioned that, in my opinion, there’s room for everyone.
I could’ve said “Yeah, I know Lyft.” and left it at that, but I just HAD to show her that her “discovery” was something I knew way more about than she ever did. She didn’t seem interested in the discussion, so I dropped it knowing I succeeded in my immature display of “I know more than you know” and sat with it.
The rest of the evening went surprisingly well after that. I could now move forward with original plan of making her my San Francisco protege and casually offered my number in case she wanted someone to show her around the city the next day since I had the day off. She thanked me for the offer and said she would text me in the morning.
The next day she sends me a text explaining that she knew a lot of people who were visiting as well and a few of them were going to take her and her dad around the city and asked me if I wanted to “tag along”. Tagging along isn’t really my thing and definitely wasn’t why I gave her my number, so I kindly declined and once again offered my assistance if she needed it or if she wanted to hang out at all before she left. She replied with another invitation for the evening to a “secret tech party at a dive bar” and finished with the sentence “not sure if that’s your scene, but if you want to try something new let me know.”
Not my scene?
I’ve been known to drink a whole pitcher through a straw on a bet in a bar full of cigarette smoke. I swipe “yes” on Tindr if a guy has two computer monitors in the background of his photo. I’ve been to bars where gaming is going on specifically to pick up the techy ones. I’m broke, I live in my chambray shirt, and I KNOW WHAT THE FUCK LYFT IS.