Here’s a little memory from grad school:
For my first year of grad school I lived in a rather crappy apartment complex (surprise). Technically, we had a handy man. But only in the titular sense as he did almost nothing. But he was an extremely nice fellow, as con-men often are.
Well anyway, I had gotten home from my morning classes for lunch and was playing solitaire on the computer while waiting for the soup to heat up. The handyman shows up to see about painting the apartment like he had been supposed to do for the past year. Right after him is my roomie, coming back from his class.
So as I’m sitting there, the handyman asks,“Do you beat it often?”
I’m stunned. I sit there and think at first,“did he say what I think he said? Yes, those were the words I heard.” So I turn slowly and sort of warily ask, “What?”
He reiterates, “How often do you beat it?”
Now I’m reeling. What the hell kind of question is that? I look over at my roomie who is unpacking his bag. He’s just about managed to completely crawl into the little bookbag. Just his legs sticking out. I look around in a little panic and as my eyes alight on the computer, it hits me…
He’s talking about the solitaire!
“OH! Yeah. No, I don’t finish it all that often.”
To make things worse, the handyman goes on, “Yeah my son and I beat it pretty regularly. He’s better at it than me cuz he gets more chances to practice.”
Oh God…