robots aren't fuzzy

Jeff decided to go stand next to Ritchie Highway today, on the strip of curb-bordered grass between there and the Panera parking lot. This was because I behaved offensively in Panera while we were in line to order. Actually, I think it was a cumulative series of offensive acts, starting with the one where I decided, just after we walked in, to back up 5 steps and hold the door for the lady who was juggling a baby carrier and a drink tray. To Jeff, what I did was this: I returned, pointlessly and perplexingly to the Panera entryway and he followed (because what else is he supposed to do?), at which point I did the bowling alley pin-clearing thing with my arm, and cleared him out of the path after a couple verbal attempts failed. He did not see the lady with too much stuff, he just perceived being pushed around.

Then I did it again. Twice. Because the Panera man was trying to carry a 25 pound vat of coffee from the kitchen to the coffee island, and Jeff was, as usual, fully blocking the aisle. Knowing where to stand is very difficult for him. He simply cannot assess traffic patterns, and grasp layout. But, the emotional impact of being ushered here and there, "like a little kid," is something he entirely grasps, but external to context. In other words, the attempt I made to explain why I chose expediency over a gentler more time-consuming approach was met with disbelief. He was not in anyone's way, he can see what's going on, and I'm the only one who seems to think there's something wrong with him.

Sometimes these funks fade in a jiffy, which is good. And sometimes they don't, which was today. I understand that when someone is feeling very blue, and tells you that you'll "never see him as a whole person again," that the personality you should be able to put on is a "there there" sort of nurturing grandmother, or at least a very therapeutic counselor. But I am Dōmo arigatō, Ms Roboto, and--while I try to be kind in my actions and words programming--I am hardly the warm fuzzy the situation calls for. All I could think of was this: If Chessie the cat tells me that "I'll never see her as anything but a cat," what can I say other than, "but you are a cat?"

So, when Jeff said "So, what can we do?" as if this is a crisis, and there's a solution, I could only respond like this: "Well, I can keep trying to improve my skill at gauging situations and their potential pitfalls." Of course he didn't know what I was talking about, but it didn't hurt his feelings. In practice it means that the next time we go in Panera or similar, I'll suggest he sit down and "hold our table" while I wait in line. Sitting at the table is a pretty good idea. Standing on the strip between the parking lot and Ritchie Highway is not a pretty good idea.