Cash Money: Almost as Good as a Credit Card

I reckon it's time for another installment of the recurring feature I call...

"The Stupidest Thing I Saw (or heard) Today" 

You say you don't recall this feature of my blog? That's probably because by recurring, I mean I've done it once before. This post makes its recurrence official.

Today I went to a bank. While I stood at the counter doing all my transactions, I could overhear parts of another teller's conversation with someone in the drive-up. This other teller was probably new on the job. She was pretty young. Based on what I heard, I think she had worked at that location for about three hours, and amassed a total of about three hours' banking experience. Hopefully she made it to the end of the day and will be invited back tomorrow; that's a tough call, though.

She got the plastic cylinder out of the air tube and opened it, and then I heard this:

Young teller, to her supervisor: Can we accept cash for a loan payment?

Supervisor: Ah, we... er, WHAT?

Young teller: He wants to make a loan payment with cash. Is that okay?

Supervisor (very slowly and distinctly): Yes. That's fine.

Young teller: 'Kay, thanks!

I guess some banks are becoming quite liberal in the payment options they will allow. Soon, we might see supermarkets starting to accept cash, and before you know it, we'll be able to use it as legal tender for all goods and services. Crazy, huh?

Super Duper Grab Bag No. 4

It's time for another miscellaneous collection of stuff I feel like sharing with you, otherwise known as a U by C Grab Bag.

First, let's do a few lists. Lists are fun, right?

Six famous nerds, in order of net worth (by my estimates)
1. Bill Gates
2. Orville Redenbacher
3. Pee-Wee Herman
4. David Byrne
5. Stephen Hawking
6. Fred Rogers

Nerds from the above list who are billionaires
1. Bill Gates

Those with severe physical handicaps and brilliant minds
1. Stephen Hawking

Those who were members of one of my favorite 80s bands
1. David Byrne

Those who were once arrested for public lewdness in a movie theater
1. Pee-Wee Herman

Those suspected of being a woman dressed as a man
1. Orville Redenbacher

Grab bag posts I've made on this blog, in chronological order
1. Grab Bag No. 1
2. Grab Bag No. 2
3. Grab Bag No. 3
4. This one

Eleven animals that have bitten, stung or pinched me
1. Dog
2. Cat
3. Mosquito
4. Tick
5. Ant
6. Ferret
7. Goose
8. Honey bee
9. Hornet
10. Hermit crab
11. Caleb (my son)

Five animals that have not
1. Elephant
2. Kangaroo
3. Snake
4. Jellyfish
5. Lobster

Six animals I've accidentally run over with a car
1. Dog
2. Cat
3. Duck
4. Snake
5. Frog
6. Skunk

Six animals I've never run over, as far as I know
1. Elephant
2. Kangaroo
3. Jellyfish
4. Penguin
5. Dolphin
6. Moose

Animals that Dave Barry and I agree would make a really funny necktie
1. Weasel

...

Now, something that happened to me today that made me go, "Huh?!"

I work on a military installation, so I have to show my ID to a sentry to get through the gate each day. Usually, he or she will check the ID, hand it back, and say something like, "Have a nice day," or maybe, "Drive carefully."

This morning, the guy who checked me was a Senior Airman (E4), which means he's probably been in the Air Force for 3 or 4 years. He looked to be about 23 years old, give or take 2 years. So imagine my surprise when he told me...

"Stay out of trouble."

I wanted to say, "Squeeze me? Bakingpowder? Whatdyoujustsay???" I don't dye my hair gray. I have four kids and a mortgage. I do not have sleeve tatoos. I was driving a KIA MINIVAN, for cryin' out loud, and it was 6:45 AM on a Sunday! I wonder what exactly I was giving off in my aura that made him think I might be looking for trouble. I can count on one finger the number of speeding tickets I've gotten in my whole life. I've never had so much as a sip of beer. I guess sometimes people just say things like that for lack of a better comment. But it made me flash back to the time a sweet young lady about half my age called me "hun".

I'm really glad he didn't open the rear hatch and discover all those dead prostitutes and bags of cocaine.

...

And finally, something George Carlin said:

"In this era of 'maxi,' 'mega,' and 'meta,' you know what we don't have anymore? 'Super-duper.' I miss that."

I do too. I like to call things super, if they really are. This is something I have in common with the four year old boss and offspring of Katia, a really smart, funny lady transplanted from Israel to Toronto, who writes a blog called IAMTHEMILK.

While I like "super," I see no need for "superb." What does adding the b at the end do? Nothing, as far as I can tell. It still just means super, so I think this is a word we can do without.

I Need to Clear My Head

I'd like to catch up on a few miscellaneous things today, but I promise to soon return to the English lessons. <sarcasm> Because I'm sure everyone enjoys those! </sarcasm> (I know a little HTML.)

First, let's update one of my favorite features here at U by C, Stuff Caleb Sez! Here is something that recently came from Boy Wonder:

[By the way, this whole conversation started after he told me his strategy for winning a level in Angry Birds Star Wars, which he was playing at the time. I said it wouldn't work and suggested another approach. He went with his idea, and it worked. He won--the game and our dispute.]

Caleb: Dad, you know why kids are sometimes smarter than adults?

Me: Ah, what?!

Caleb: I said, do you know why kids are smarter than adults?

Me: Ummm, no. I don't think they are.

Caleb: Dad, they are. Sometimes. You know why?

Me: No, I don't know why, because I don't think kids are smarter.

Caleb: Well, they are. Sometimes.

... and as soon as I left the room, he mumbled, "And by sometimes I mean all the time."

Five minutes later, he tried again.

Caleb: Dad, kids are smarter than adults. I know they are, so don't say it's not true.

Me: Okay, fine. What's your point?

Caleb: You want to know why?

Me: Yes. Please tell me why kids are smarter.

Caleb: Because adults know so much stuff, there's no room left in their brains. But kids have lots of room in their brains to think of smart things.

I hate to admit it, but he may be onto something. I've got decades of useless knowledge cluttering the recesses of my cranium, making it difficult to think clearly and come up with innovative solutions to, say, a video game involving light saber-wielding birds and pigs dressed up as stormtroopers. His mind is an empty slate, leaving him free to devise the best trajectory when launching those little digital birds... and to form an argument like the one he just gave.

...

By the way, I've been updating the other pages here, easily navigated using those tabs at the top of the page. Mainly, I've been adding pictures to the pics page, but if you haven't checked the Bozo List lately, there might be some new-to-you updates there too. I'll add some more books to the books page soon. Man, am I productive, or what?

Hey, one more thing. Leave a comment, whydontcha?

Don't Look Now, But Your Modifier is Dangling

This might be one of those things that only I find funny, but I'll share it anyway. Check out the sign that recently appeared on the men's room door at my work:

 I swear this is an actual photo, unaltered, and that I did not make up the sign. Apparently, the janitors did.

I'll promise to heed this request and wait until I'm all done being cleaned before using the restroom. Although, that seems like kind of a backwards approach--shouldn't we do our thing in there first, and then get cleaned? Wait a second... who's being cleaned around here, and even more puzzling, who is doing that cleaning?! And WHERE are they doing it, if not in the restroom, forpetesake?!!

I think they meant for us to keep out while the ROOM is cleaned, but just to be sure, I'll stay away when either the room or my body is having anything done to it.

Now, here's the part Paul Harvey would have called The Rest of the Story. I noticed that sign a few days ago and thought I should share it with the world (in case anyone else gets a kick out of this kind of thing). Today I remembered to take my camera to work, so I returned to that restroom, hoping the sign would still be up. On my way there, I saw a similar sign on the ladies' room:

Also a real, unaltered photo

This brings up some questions, like Why is the ladies' sign so much nicer? Do they really deserve a prettier restroom sign, in this age when we are supposed to be striving for equality? Also, since this one is worded more clearly (to us English majors, at least), is there really an error on the other one? Maybe it reads just as intended. I guess it's not important. After thinking about it for a while, dangling modifiers are really no big deal.

Un Blog Sobre Idiomas

In the U.S. of A. nowadays, we see lots of stuff written in both English and Spanish. I guess that’s okay, because it helps our immigrants from south of the border. If I were to visit their country, I’d like to see signs and instructions in my language. (I would, of course, try hard to learn theirs if I were staying long-term… just sayin’)

Here’s a sign I saw at a hospital sign-in desk recently:

I wouldn't expect a Spanish speaker to understand terms like “disability” and “ancestry” and “conditions of admission" in English. Since this hospital gets the occasional Hispanic patient, they’re wise to give the instructions in both languages.

Similarly, our local Best Buy store has a sign that warrants translation, because it has some pretty difficult words on it:

But this translation business can go too far. I recently filled out a form that was labeled in both English and French. It asked for lots of basic information, including the following:

Last Name / Nom

First Name / Prenom

Time / Heure

Religion /  Religion

Date / Date

Disposition / Disposition

I’m not sure all of these needed to be translated, but they all were, for the sake of consistency, I guess. Consistency is nice, I just think they could have saved the ink.

Another sign in Best Buy really makes me say "Huh?!" It's over their MP3 and iPod department:

If you can understand no written English at all, I think you could still grasp that “MP3 & iPod” means “MP3 y iPod.” Maybe it isn’t just consistency that drives these decisions. Maybe Best Buy’s reasoning in designing this sign went something like this:

We must translate it into Spanish, or our Hispanic customers will be lost! They’ll search in vain for the MP3s and iPods. They’ll surely give up and leave the store without making a purchase, because in their language, “&” is “y.” No, it’s unacceptable to print only “MP3 & iPod.” We must render it in both languages, replacing the “&” with a “y.”

Good call, Best Buy!




I've just made a long-awaited update to The Bozo List. Check it out!

Compared to the Joneses, We Look Really Bad

We have lots of friends and relatives who send out nice Christmas cards every year. Better yet, some send letters to catch us up with everything their families have been doing. Some even include pictures. We're not exactly that diligent.* So we feel a little guilty about all these thoughtful, unreciprocated messages that keep coming to our mailbox...


Then, last week we got one that really makes us seem inadequate. Here it is:

I masked out their eyes and first names to preserve their privacy, but I didn't bother
with the last name because really, "the Joneses" doesn't narrow it down much.

How does this card make us look bad? Because we don't even know these people! The woman has the same first name as one of my wife's college roommates and looks vaguely like her, but they haven't spoken in about 17 years. We're not even sure it's her, and if it is, why would she look us up after all this time?


This could be a family we've never met. The card did not get delivered to the wrong house, because our name was on the envelope, and the address was right. I kind of suspect that some complete strangers added us to their list just to make us feel even worse about failing to send anything ourselves, even to our loved ones. Thanks a lot, Jones family--it worked.


I'd like to take this moment to say a big Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all our friends and family, wherever you may be. And to the Joneses as well--we hope you have a great one, and thanks for thinking of us (show-offs).


- Brian, Celeste, and the Kids.


* "Not exactly that diligent" means we don't do it. Ever. Don't judge me!

Elvis, Fast Turtles, and Hand Me That Mockingbird

It's time for another entry in a category I've decided to call Caleb Sez. One reason I like Caleb so much is he's not a conventional thinker. (Check my blog's title.) In the past week he's said stuff both nonsensical and remarkably insightful.

First the nonsense:

Caleb: Hey, Dad!

Me: What?

Caleb: Guess what!

Me: What?

Caleb: Ummm... [Long pause]

Me: Caleb?

Caleb: What?

Me: You were going to tell me something.

Caleb: Oh, yeah. I forgot. Guess what!

Me: What!?

Caleb: Some people call hammers Mockingbirds.

Me: Oh, really?

Caleb: Yeah. In the nineteen-seventies they did.

O-kaaayyyy... I'll just have to take his word for it. I was alive in the seventies. Granted, I was pretty young for most of the decade, but I don't recall ever hearing that. Maybe the less ornithologically-savvy* will confuse a Gray Catbird or a Phoebe with a Mockingbird in any decade, but a hammer?

Nope. I'm not seeing it.

He's said things that reflect a curious view of religious doctrine, but he clearly understands a lot about it. Consider what he told his mother a few days ago:

Caleb: Can turtles run fast if they have enough faith?

Celeste: Yes, they could.

Caleb: I thought so. They must not have faith.

Brilliant! When I heard about this, I said, "My boy is a GENIUS," because it shows not only a keen understanding of the concept of faith (as taught in the Judaeo-Christian tradition generally, and especially in the LDS church), but also perfect application of deductive reasoning.

I guess we could also say that Mockingbirds could drive nails with their beaks if only their faith were strong enough.**

...

Since I'm already writing about stuff at the intersection of silliness and profundity,*** here's another installment of Stuff George Carlin Said:

" I wonder if an Elvis impersonator could ever get famous enough so that someone who looked like him could become a celebrity lookalike. Is there room in this culture for an Elvis-impersonator lookalike? Probably."

I'm not sure there is. It's an interesting idea, but I think first-degree lookalikes are the limit. I'm absolutely certain we don't have room for a third degree lookalike (someone who looks like a famous lookalike of an Elvis impersonator).

It's like that stupid "Inception" movie about people who can go into someone's dream, and then they go into a dream within a dream. But when they try to go into a dream within a dream within a dream within a dream, everything gets fouled up, and we end up turning off the DVD to watch "King of the Hill" instead.

...

* "Ornithologically-savvy" is perhaps the best term used in my blog so far, and proof I have not mastered the art of brevity.

** The ball peen hammer shown above is not designed for driving nails. I couldn't find a carpenter's hammer for the picture, but you get the idea. The ball peen one is good for seating bearing races and pushing roll pins with a pin punch, more tasks that Mockingbirds cannot perform.

*** They really should put in a traffic light at that intersection. It's getting too busy, and I'm afraid there will be some bad accidents.

Early Morning Booty Call From My Sister-In-Law

My lovely wife has sisters scattered all over the country, and she often talks on the phone with them.

Recently, she got a call from one of them at about 7:00 A.M., when we were just starting to wake up. I didn’t hear what they talked about, but it was a very short conversation.

Later, she told me her sister had somehow called by mistake, and it might have been something she terms a 'butt call.'

I said, “A what?” and got ready for an explanation that’s either very interesting or totally confusing. I was a little scared to hear what she meant by 'butt call.'

She clarified: A butt call is what happens when you put the phone in the back pocket of your jeans and your butt pushes the buttons, unintentionally calling someone.

“Oh, of course,” I said, “...but people already have a name for this. It’s a ‘booty call.’”

She insisted this is not what’s meant by 'booty call,' but I know I’m right; butt and booty are synonymous.

I just can’t figure out why we got so many strange looks at church on Sunday when I asked her if she’s had any more early morning booty calls. People need to mind their own business.

… 

Here’s Munchausen by Proxy, featuring the always delightful Zooey Deschanel, who declares in song, “I’m not your late night booty call.” (Apparently, she has friends who aren't careful with their phones.)

Botox, Wireless Mess, and Some Zesty Sauce

Here at Unintimidated, we like to mix it up sometimes. We will unexpectedly change our writing style, for example. Like right now, with the way we're using first person plural pronouns, even though everyone knows there's just one of me.


Something else we like to do is point out things we find amusing. Several weeks ago, we showed you a cookie wrapper that struck us as ridiculous because it used the word "decadent." Here is a little packet of fry sauce with another silly word:

This is actually pretty good, whatever it is. We like BK's foodstuffs.

Exactly what does "zesty" mean? It's a word nobody (and we do mean nobody) ever uses in regular conversation. It is only used to describe things like fry sauce and salad dressing, on their packages and in advertisements. If you are not a sauce maker or advertising person, we'll bet you've never spoken or written "zesty" in your life. Correction: there's one other product it's associated with (sort of), and that's Zest brand soap. "You're not fully clean unless you're Zestfully clean." So the same word that's supposed to tempt us to dip our onion rings in this sauce also encourages us to lather up in the shower. We guess that's okay, as long as we don't get the two products mixed up.




This struck us as ironic and kind of stupid:

Spotted inside the Weber State University library

It's ironic because we usually think computer network upgrades involve replacing clean, quiet electronic devices with slightly more sophisticated clean, quiet electronic devices. If it's a wireless system, what's causing all the commotion? They must be running new cables or something through the building.


When there's remodeling going on, it has become very conventional to put up a sign that says "Pardon our dust," or "Pardon our noise." Here, someone used both. As you should know by now, we're not big fans of stale convention. "Pardon our [whatever]" was clever the first 900 times it was used. Now it's just dumb, like the old, tired "Got [insert your product's name here]?" that everyone under the sun copies from the milk ads. Try to be a little more original, folks!




Here's a clipping from an absurd online banner ad:

This mom now has a newfound zest for life!

Are we supposed to believe that's a real before and after photo? A three dollar "trick" can take your looks from 97-year-old Cardassian to teenage Katie Holmes? Reasonable skepticism is one convention we embrace here.


...


Finally, on an unrelated note, we feel it's time for another edition of Stuff George Carlin Said. This is one of our favorites from him:


"Here's a word you don't see anymore: foodstuffs. I wish it would make a comeback."

We like "foodstuffs" because, although it isn't a necessary word, we feel it has subtleties of meaning that "food" lacks. And we think it's fun to say.

No, Really, It's ALL Good

I recently wrote about my boy Caleb’s interesting spin on Christian doctrine. Last night he threw out another one that made me say, “O-Kaaaay…?”

Here’s how our conversation went:

Caleb: Hey Dad!

Me: What?

Caleb: Guess what!

Me: What?

Caleb: A long time ago, Jesus made asteroids come down and kill all the dinosaurs.

Me: Jesus did that, huh?

Caleb: Yeah.

Me: O-kaaaay…?

I don’t know how we got onto the topic. It just came up out of the blue. Something else I’m not sure of: whether he’s totally confused, or he’s found a brilliant way to reconcile creationist and scientific views.

Presumably, Caleb’s unfaltering belief in Jesus (the “greatest superhero ever”) as a destroyer would be matched by faith in Him as the creator of all things, including dinosaurs. So his asteroids-as-a-divine-dispensation theory suggests the almighty creator did what—made a mistake? Hmm, these giant lizards were a bad idea. No problem, just kill ‘em all and start over. This opens up a big, messy paradox. (God would cease to be God if he were not perfect, all-knowing, and all-powerful. But this is a topic for another discussion.)

Copyright © 1991 by W.W. Norton & Co.

I noted examples of similar views in a paper I wrote a few years ago for a literature class, on Voltaire’s Candide. This picaresque novella (Yeah, I just used that phrase. It’s okay—I’m an English major.) satirizes the “deterministic optimism” of Enlightenment thinkers, whose philosophy, greatly simplified, held that everything comes from God and therefore everything is good. (Try to refute either of these tenets, and you get caught in the paradox I mentioned above.)

Cunegonde, a beautiful, innocent young lady in Candide who buys into deterministic optimism, describes the invasion of her castle. She begins with the following statement:

“I was in my bed and fast asleep when heaven chose to send the Bulgars into our castle…”

She then explains how the invaders raped and kidnapped her and chopped her family to pieces. But it’s okay, because this was all “a mere matter of routine.” Cunegonde doesn’t question the justice of anything in this world—even rape and murder—because she’d been taught that everything comes from God. The possibility that the Bulgars acted on their own free will does not even occur to her, and she cannot differentiate between God's allowing something to happen and His causing it to happen.

Caleb holds some beliefs comparable to Cunegonde's, but he applies them to much less personal situations. And he does not think deeply about these things; he just believes in dinosaurs and in Jesus, as do I.


...


In hopes of stimulating some reader involvement, I'd like to throw out a challenge. Let's see who can be the first to correctly identify a line from Rod or Todd Flanders (I'm not sure which) on The Simpsons that reflects a belief like Cunegonde's. Hint: Study the episode "My Sister, My Sitter."


You may comment below or send email to me at bchristensen1970@gmail.com. I would offer a prize for the winner, but I don't have anything that seems appropriate to this game, so you'll have to settle for praise and recognition in a future update here. Go to it, Simpsons fans and online research wizards!

I Parked Next to Oscar the Grouch's Car Today

In an earlier post, I showed you how someone saved money by doing his own car body repairs.

Today, I saw a car that someone is using to save on trash collection bills. Like a sucker, I’ve been putting my old drink cups, banana peels, junk mail, and other refuse into the trash can, which gets emptied—for a fee—once a week (provided I remember to drag it to the curb). This guy just throws everything into his Ford Tempo, saving time and money. I presume it accumulates until he can no longer see over the top of it, at which time he only has to open the passenger doors in the Wal-Mart parking lot, letting it all cascade to the ground.

He must be filthy rich.

Rain water and glare make this a crummy shot, so you'll just
have to take my word that the entire car is filled with trash.

It looks like a win-win situation: there’s still plenty of room for him in the driver’s seat, he has a perfect excuse to refuse giving rides to friends (where would they sit?), and he never has to go looking for a wastebasket, dumpster, or recycling bin. As an added bonus, he’ll never have to worry about women trying to go on a date with him… or talk to him… or even stand within 20 feet of him.

To my wife and kids: After seeing this, I apologize for all the times I’ve gotten on your case over a few gum wrappers or a video rental receipt in the minivan, and I promise to lighten up from now on.

Behind the Curve on What is Sexy

Waiting in line at a grocery store recently, I found myself glancing over some women's magazines, and I spotted something puzzling—even as women's magazines go.

One cover featured Rachel Bilson, with the tagline, “How she got her amazing curves.” What-are-you-talking-about, Willis Women’s Health???

First of all, I wouldn’t call a waist the size of a fencepost and two tiny bumps where boobs should be “amazing curves.” Secondly, how does a magazine with this name get so far out of touch with what a healthy woman really looks like? Don’t get me wrong, Rachel is cute—all 98 pounds of her—and there’s nothing wrong with a smooth complexion, pretty hairdo, and big white teeth. But I think somebody should give that girl a sandwich, maybe some eggs Benedict. The poor thing probably has to stay inside on windy days, for fear of blowing into the next county.

Women’s Health, there are millions of beautiful and truly healthy women you could have shown… women with real curves, or at least measurements more voluptuous than 28-24-28. The only thing remarkable about Rachel is that she (or probably her agent) somehow persuaded you to photograph her and call her Olsen twin figure “amazing.”

But there's a lot of this going around. For years, gun manufacturer Kahr has been running magazine ads that show their products in the hands of nearly anorexic looking women, with the caption, "Thin is sexy." (Click here for some examples.) I guess the theory is that consumers will see the model, read the caption, and associate the thinness of their compact pistols with sex appeal. The trouble is, I don't find these women attractive. I know a lot of guys who are into guns and most of them don't either. (And the ads are clearly not targeted at women.) So, Kahr, I'm not sure who you're trying to reach, but most people I know would disagree with your advertising claim. Thin is okay, but it's possible to go too thin.

In contrast to the Kahr, Ruger's curvaceous and
somewhat heavier Vaquero is a sexy handgun.

Tom Wolfe is recognized as a premier chronicler of our culture; for the past 50 years he's observed in newspapers, nonfiction books, and novels how modern Americans think and act. Martha Croker, a character in his 1998 novel A Man in Full, resents her ex-husband Charlie's new trophy wife and others like her, both for their lack of moral fiber and lack of physical substance. To her eye, their bodies are like "12-year-old boys with breasts." (See Rachel Bilson's picture above.) Mr. Wolfe, you nailed it. And Charlie Croker, what's so sexy about that?

These Bloodthirsty Girls are Getting Way Too Friendly

This morning I got a call from a nice young lady named Ashley or Brittney or something, I don’t remember. She works for the American Red Cross, in their vampire division.

I occasionally give some of my blood to these folks. I think the last time I did so was about a year ago. I know… I have more than I need, I can make the stuff without even trying, and it’s just plain selfish for me to hoard it… Leave me alone already! I don’t like being poked with needles. Soon I’ll probably capitulate to my social conscience and donate again, but this must happen on my own terms. In my defense, I’d note that I’ve never made a withdrawal from their bank, so I should have a positive balance, although I don’t get statements from them to verify that.

You just feel a little sting...
Like what you'd get from a giant robot bee with a 2" long steel stinger.

The trouble is, they have my contact info. I give it to them every time I donate, thinking it’s required. You know, in case they get back to the lab and find my blood is infected with some horrible, deadly virus. I’d kinda like them to pass that info along. It occurs to me that the Red Cross is the only entity, besides my wife, to ever succeed in getting both my phone number and some body fluids from me. No, I take that back. The Air Force got both, and a lot more. But I’m not in the habit of giving either of these things out to strangers. I’d like that to go on record.

So now, every time the supply runs low, Hailey or Jessica or Amber calls or sends an email to ask if I’ll stop in and give a pint. My wife has it easy. They don’t want her blood, because it’s potentially (she insists I include that modifier) infected with mad cow disease. You live in England for two years in the early ‘90s, and you get a lifelong exemption from donating. It’s like wearing a wreath of garlic cloves around your neck.

Here’s the part that made me go, “Um… WHAT?!” Crystal or somebody calls this morning around 9:00, and I’m still in bed because I work swing shift and sleep in late. In my semi-coherent state I explain that no, I cannot come in tomorrow to let them drain me. My schedule is full. (This is true… not that I wouldn’t invent an excuse if necessary.) So she says, and this is an exact quote, “Okay, hun. Thanks anyway. We’ll catch you next time.” Hun? Did she just call me “Hun?” I’m sure I heard right and she said “Hun.” She sounds 19 years old, give or take three years. I’m thirty-eleven. I’ve been married 16 years. I have four kids, a mortgage, and a minivan, forpetesake. She’s barely old enough to vote, and I’m overdue for my midlife crisis.

If you are a waitress named Flo who recently celebrated the birth of her first grandchild, and you’re serving coffee to a slightly younger truck driver in an all-night diner, and he’s a regular there… then it is okay for you to address him as “Hun.” I don’t think Tiffany has earned that right with me. I only wish I’d had the presence of mind to reply, “Alright, babe. Call back anytime.” My mental agility must have been impeded by morning weariness and the thought of getting stabbed in the arm.