MISTAKEN ASSUMPTION THAT ANOTHER PARTY HAS A SENSE OF HUMOR
When I was 19 and working the line at a local Ryan’s steakhouse, we had a “hip” boss who wanted us to dress up for Halloween. Go nuts, he said. So, before my shift, I dropped by the next door competitor, a Quincy’s steak house (same set-up, same food, direct competition,) and picked up a Quincy’s uniform from their manager.
My boss wasn’t amused. At all. Everybody else thought it was freaking hilarious. That reassured me somewhat as I searched for another job.
HALLWAY WOES, PART 435
So you get up to go to the file room, and you suddenly see the guy that you’ve somehow managed to run into every single time you’ve left your office that day. I mean, jesus. This is like the fifth time you’ve passed this guy in the hall. You’ve used up “hi.” You’ve used up “hey again.” You’ve used up “looking distractedly at a report.” You can’t ignore him again! You’ve used up the “fancy seeing you here” wisecrack. This is just ridiculous. What do you do?
There was a guy in my old building that I would see every single time I walked out of my office. (Which was right across the hall from the cafeteria, so I figure he was just hungry all the time.)
We teased each other for two years about who was stalking who. It started with, “Are you stalking me?” and turned into, “Look! Its my stalker!” (I still maintain that he was stalking me.)
He stopped stalking me when I changed jobs and buildings. Weird.
This is so me. I frankly just don’t care about these things, and that’s why I can’t remember them. Of course, it would be nice to be able to hold a freaking conversation with these people I work with, but I can’t because all I really know about them is their name! (And they remember the names of my kids and stuff.)
I’ve often been at both the giving and receiving end of
Gossiping with a friend in your own language abroad without realising the person behind you is from the same country as you are.
Extra points if you were actually talking about them.
More hug-problems.
You and your friend meet someone who is a close friend of your friend’s but you know them only casually. They and the friend hug goodbye after the conversation that you yourself have spent nodding and smiling vaguely. Then you and the other person hover around each other a bit and hug awkwardly. Or alternatively either of you don’t, making the other look the like the third wheel on the wagon.
I have what’s sort of the reverse problem (so let’s call it The Reverse Mental Block). See, I’ll hear and remember little bits of information. Things I find interesting or fascinating – the relationship between Gauguin and Van Gogh, say, or the shape of wombat feces. But I’ll forget who it was that told me. So then, inevitably, I’ll be having a conversation with that person a month later, and I’ll whip out “hey, I just learned such-and-such about Gauguin!” And the other person will look at me funny and say, “yeah, I told you that.”
It’s even worse when it’s not just a factoid, but a personal anecdote. Like I was talking about ohones with a couple of my co-workers, and I pipe in with, “hey, someone told me that they’ve totally eliminated their home land-line, and make all their calls on a cell phone now!” (which I thought was unique and interesting.) And one of the guys is like, “uh, yeah, that would be me.” Oops.
So now, of course, whenever I relate some factoid, I’ll begin with some long preamble about “I just learned this, but I forget who told me, so maybe it was you that told me, so stop me if you know this…”
Here’s another one: **The Unwanted Fellowtraveler **
This one I will picture from both sides.
You’re sitting in the train, expecting a quiet hour of travel, daydreaming and preparing yourself for the businessmeeting you will have in the City.
A coworker you vaguely know passes your seat. He hesitates a little, then, with that jovial determination of someone who wants to compensate for his initial hesitation, sits down next to you. You have unenjoyable awkward conversation for half an hour, *1) and then one of you says something like: “well, I’ve still got a little reading to do”. The other goes: “oh yeah, yeah, me too”. The next half hour is spent in awkward studying, or trying to look like your’re studying.
You’re boarding the train, expecting a quiet hour of travel, daydreaming and preparing yourself for the businessmeeting you will have in the City. You pass a vacant seat next to a coworker you vaguely know. She looks up at you and you see the recognition and beginning of a friendly smile in her eyes. You debate with yourself in a split milisecond if you still can walk on, or if that would hurt her feelings. But it is too late: you’ve stopped, and walking away will now seem awkward. With that jovial determination of someone who wants to compensate for his initial hesitation, you sit down next to her. You have unenjoyable awkward conversation for half an hour, *1) and then one of you says something like: “well, I’ve still got a little reading to do”. The other goes: “oh yeah, yeah, me too”. The next half hour is spent in awkward studying, or trying to look like your’re studying.
1*) Reliable sources show that awkward conversation is the number one cause of sitting up wide-eyed in the middle of the night thinking: “Did I actually SAY that? Omigod, what was I thinking!”.
I see no one yet has suffered the memorable FOLLOWING THE LEADER.
At a baseball game with my father. I’m trailing right behind him, trailing, trailing, trailing, suddenly I’m in the men’s room. I’m, um, not male.
Or how about THE FARTING CHAIR.
When your chair makes an obscene noise and you try desperately to get it to make the noise again so that people will know it’s the chair.
Then there’s LEAPING AND SQUEALING ON A PERFECT STRANGER.
I would have sworn my husband was wearing a blue shirt, a blue shirt just like that man whom I just accosted while squealing “Penguins!” while at the bookstore. This has the corollary: SITTING AT THE WRONG TABLE.
Leave the table to go to the restroom and come back to sit at a table with a perfect stranger who just happens to be wearing, you guessed it, a blue shirt.
Or my personal favorite, THE MISTAKEN PRONOUN.
Yes, the one where you go to a counter in a foreign country and ask, loudly, “Do I speak English?”
My family speaks English. Our good friends speak French. Since my parents can’t speak French, we all speak English when together. Here’s where it gets funny. If you listen to a conversation between my mother and her friend, you’ll notice that she’ll start speaking with a French accent. This is fine with our good friends, but she’s apt to do this if she gets into a conversation with even a total stranger. :eek:
Also, I have a cousin whose wife speaks French very well. They’re also good friends with our aforementioned friends. If all three women are having a conversation, the other two women will sometimes switch over and start talking in French. My mother will try to keep up, but French speakers talk pretty fast (at least from an English speaker’s perspective), and my mother will get lost. She’s not one to interrupt; she’ll wait until they notice she’s been left behind.
Ack, yes! I was leaving a 5-week summer thing I’d been doing, knowning I’d probably never see these people again, ever. I was fine saying goodbyes in the airport, fine waiting…the plane takes off, and I (PMSing and running on less than an hour of sleep after a week of backpacking) burst into hysterical sobbing. “What’s wrong?” “Miss, are you alright?” “snifflesob…yes…other than my pride…”
This also goes for things other than name. I’ve witnessed and/or committed:
RELIGION
1: “What’s born again mean?”
2: “It means you can be a stripper, or a killer or prostitute, but when you accept Jesus, you’re born again and your sins are gone.”
3: “My mom’s born again.”
2: “Or… you can be a perfectly nice person and be born again too…”
MAJOR
Engineer 1: “So my frend is going back to grad school. Well, business school, not real school.”
Engineer 2: “I got an MBA”
Engineer 1: <slink under table>
A particularly embarrassing case of I THOUGHT YOU WERE SOMEONE ELSE syndrome:
2nd week of college. Waiting at train station near parent’s home for train back to school. Guy on platform looks familiar. Is it the guy I know from the next town over from High School competitions? Yeah, I think so.
Him: “Hi, heading back to school?”
Me: “Yeah, I go to <name of college>”
Him: “Yeah, me too, we met last week at Bob’s dorm room.”
I was at Navy Pier with Denise (my gf at the time) and the kids at Build-A-Bear and we were off doing our own thing. I walked into the the store and thought I saw her standing with her back to me against a column. Now if you know me, you’d know I’m a touchy feely kinda guy and so I sidled up to her and placed my hand my hand on her lower back between the slacks and the bottom of the shirt. I wasn’t grabbing her butt or anything, just the small of the back, one of the bestest parts of you fine female types I might add. But definitely skin to skin contact.
She didn’t jump, just turned her head and looked at me bemusedly…I swear I almost died. The worst part is we had jsut started the Building portion of the bear activity and so we were all stuck there for another half hour.
The Accidental Touchee smiled at me a couple times. I’m not sure whether she thought I was cute or a COMPLETE IDIOT.
I worked with identical twin sisters. No, really. I park myself next to B and say, “Hey, B. Boy, your sister A is getting on my nerves today.” I elaborate. I notice that B isn’t responding. I look again. Yep, it’s A I’m talking to. Never gossip about a twin, that’s my lifelong motto.
I’m working the drive-through at Dairy Queen. It’s the end of a long shift. I’m tired of mixing Blizzards for the great unwashed. I’m thinking about how much I’d like a taco. Someone pulls up. “Hi,” I say, “Welcome to Taco Bell, how can I help you?” There’s a long, puzzled silence as the person in the car checks the sign again. “Um, isn’t this Dairy Queen?” he says. “By Jove, you’re right,” I say.
