Another weekend and–guess what?–another regret to stew over.
My lunches at work are pretty bland, and for a long time now they’ve begun with three boiled eggs. Julie entered the breakroom for water as I sat for lunch, the eggs on a paper towel before me. "Dion," she said, "I have a new nickname for you." "Oh, no," I said, knowing the eggs were somehow involved. "What’s that?" "Tres huevos." "Ugh," I groaned. "I knew it!" I was amused, though at the connotation she obviously hadn’t thought of, but before I could convey that, Judy, the only other person in the room, jumped in with an irrelevant and many-times-told anecdote that followed Julie out of the room. I vowed to have my say before we parted for the weekend, and I finally got my chance in the parking lot after work. "About that new nickname of mine...." "You mean," and she brandished it with a flourish. "Yes," I said, but instead of "You must be discreet with the company in which you use it," I continued haltingly, "You should be careful with it." "Be careful with it?" I could tell by her tone that she took me seriously. I was sunk. The scripted reply, "I can explain it away as a birth defect, but people might wonder how you could know" became "Yeah. Huevos is slang for cojones." She paused and said, "Yeah, you’re right." No laugh. We parted to separate vehicles. Can you believe the last word I spoke to her was "cojones"? Now if that isn’t worth denting the wall with my head....
*Original Comment(s)
Lonesome Loser said...
Oh my god! Last word, cojones, and no laugh, the whole thing fell flat. Shit! Your unspoken line would have been great. I know what you mean about saying embarrassing things.
My lunches at work are pretty bland, and for a long time now they’ve begun with three boiled eggs. Julie entered the breakroom for water as I sat for lunch, the eggs on a paper towel before me. "Dion," she said, "I have a new nickname for you." "Oh, no," I said, knowing the eggs were somehow involved. "What’s that?" "Tres huevos." "Ugh," I groaned. "I knew it!" I was amused, though at the connotation she obviously hadn’t thought of, but before I could convey that, Judy, the only other person in the room, jumped in with an irrelevant and many-times-told anecdote that followed Julie out of the room. I vowed to have my say before we parted for the weekend, and I finally got my chance in the parking lot after work. "About that new nickname of mine...." "You mean," and she brandished it with a flourish. "Yes," I said, but instead of "You must be discreet with the company in which you use it," I continued haltingly, "You should be careful with it." "Be careful with it?" I could tell by her tone that she took me seriously. I was sunk. The scripted reply, "I can explain it away as a birth defect, but people might wonder how you could know" became "Yeah. Huevos is slang for cojones." She paused and said, "Yeah, you’re right." No laugh. We parted to separate vehicles. Can you believe the last word I spoke to her was "cojones"? Now if that isn’t worth denting the wall with my head....
*Original Comment(s)
Lonesome Loser said...
Oh my god! Last word, cojones, and no laugh, the whole thing fell flat. Shit! Your unspoken line would have been great. I know what you mean about saying embarrassing things.
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