One of my floor managers at work and I are rather chummy. We chat much and she can definitely gab. She also has a word of the day outside of her cube, and I try and find a fun reason to shit on it every day. In any case, we had a bar night recently and I was going to invite her (as well as everyone else) along. So she says she can’t because she has to go home and get ready to go to “trivia”.
Oh, “trivia”. Hm.
I recalled that there’s a troupe of Dopers (albeit in frickin’ Seattle) that does trivia nights. I decided to plunge in and see if she’s a Doper.
Me: “Trivia night, huh? Well, Is it busy?”
Her: “Yeah, we get a decent little group out there.”
Me: “So, if it’s too busy, you could always just zap someone with a 1920’s style death ray.”
Her: “What? What in the hell are you talking about?”
(I now, rightly, feel that I’m barking up the wrong tree. So I decide to make it outrageous.)
Me: “Yeah, a death ray. You know…1920’s style.”
I point my fingers like guns at her and twitch my thumbs, going “pew pew!”
Silence ensues. It was like, 2 seconds of silence, but it felt like an hour and a half. She opens her mouth to say something. I interject.
Me: “You know, with your…basic…gun configuration…but…with the rings on the barrel…like…Buck Rogers. Why in the hell am I referencing Buck Rogers?”
Her: “I think I was a little girl when Buck Rogers was on. So what in the hell are you talking about?”
Me: “Um. I’m gonna just…pay for my Chinese food…and…go back…to my desk now.”
Mision: Bungled.
