My Fruit

aging, education, Humor, introvert, school, women, work

You’re Not that Special

When people speak, I listen.  Okay, sometimes I pretend to listen.  While I’m listening or pretending, I’m definitely not talking.  As I’ve said before, I think it is high schoolerish to talk when someone else has the floor. I’m starting to think I’m in the minority on this issue because over the past week, there has been way too much talking going on.

The first talker talked while a colleague was graciously giving a group tour of his work area.  I found his work area interesting, but the talker must have felt differently.  He walked across the room, stopped in front of me, and asked me a question about an unrelated topic.  I gave a one-word answer, looked away, and hoped to shoo the walker-talker away; but he kept talking.  I took a few steps away from him, but he followed and so did his questions.  “Dude,” I thought, “I know you think you’re something special and the world is all about you but come on, show some respect.  And better yet, don’t pull me into your rudeness. I’m not a talker.”

Fast-forward a few days to a meeting where people were seated around a large rectangular table in a conference room.  One person told everyone what she thought and what everyone else should think.  Sure, not my kind of gig, but I tolerated it, kept quiet, and let her think she was winning me over.  Truth be told, I am never gonna think like she wanted me to.  And then, out-of-the-blue, the person who sat next to me leaned over and told me her thoughts.  “Ah, hold up lady. What made you think that I wanted to hear your two cents and that I wanted to hear them while ‘one person’ was still talking? We don’t need double talkers,” I said to myself while flashing my best resting bitch face. She never saw it, which was surprising given I’m pretty good at it; she just kept talking. “Dudette,” I thought, “I know you think you’re something special and the world is all about you but come on, show some respect.  And better yet, don’t pull me into your rudeness.  I’m not a talker.”

The terd, I mean third, talker talked at the same time the teacher was teaching.  She sat in the seat in front of me and when the teacher said something she didn’t agree with, she turned around in her seat and told me about it.  I tried to ignore her, but it didn’t work; she kept talking. The teacher responded like a high school teacher, even though were weren’t in high school, and glared…at me. “Excuse me, Ms. High schoolerish who is getting me in trouble with the teacher,” I thought, “I know you think you’re something special and the world is all about you but come on, show some respect.  And better yet, don’t pull me into your rudeness.  I’m not a talker.”

I’m not sure what happened over the past week that led to way too much talking going on. Better yet, I’m not sure why people decided to talk to me at a time when they shouldn’t have been talking to anybody. I gave short answers, walked away, and flashed the RBF; all are signs that I’m not a talker. And when someone has the floor, you shouldn’t be either, because you’re not that special…nobody is.

 

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aging, comedy, Friends, holiday, Humor, women, work

BOGO: What Kind of Person?

Sure, I’m a day late, but I’m not a dollar short.  In fact, I have a buy one, get one free offer to share as a peace offering for my lateness.  I know that won’t help with the fact that you were up all night wondering what happened to the fabulously funny Friday post, but it’s the best I can do. While I didn’t write a post yesterday, I did collect two stories from the workplace that are both funny and sad.

The first story, or the buy one, happened to my friend at work.  Her overseer asked her to speak at an important work-related event that marked the end of a journey for the honorees.  Sounds serious, right?  Well, my friend did a fabulous job and I don’t mean a fabulously funny job-I mean a fabulous job.  She talked about treating colleagues with respect, being kind to one another, and needing to move on if you’re not happy with your work; simple things that can bring joy to everyone involved.  So about now you’re asking what’s so funny and sad about that?  Well, nothing…yet.

The final speaker who had to give closing remarks after my friend’s fabulous speech was the person who asked her to speak at the event. The funny thing is, nobody wants to follow fabulous. Nobody, that is, unless somebody thinks he/she can one-up fabulous. But let me warn you-it can’t be done. You simply can’t one-up fabulous no matter who you are or what position you hold. Instead, you just accept the fact that someone else brought down the house, thank everyone for coming, and leave it at that.  But that’s not what happened. Somebody was feeling overzealous, didn’t heed my warning, and tried to one-up.  The result? Somebody went away feeling a little less-than-jovial about asking my friend to speak at an important work-related event that marked the end of the journey for the honorees. While some of you might be feeling sad for less-than-jovial’s position in the speaking order, that’s not the sad part of this story. What’s really sad is that after the event, less-than-jovial tried to make fabulous feel less-than-fabulous…by critiquing her speech delivery. Now, if that isn’t sad, I don’t know what is. What kind of person asks someone to do them a favor and then, after seeing what a great job they did, tries to knock them down a few pegs on the fabulous meter?  I know, do you?

Let’s move on to the get-one-free story because I always like a bargain.  It’s the Christmas season and it won’t be long until a fat elf tries to come down the stainless steel pipe that vents my gas fireplace while carrying a big bag of something. I’m fortunate that he brings a bag, but others are not, including many children who won’t see anything from the elf. That’s not funny and it certainly is sad so do what you can to help; but do it a little better than ‘someone I know’s’ boss did.

It went like this…Out of the blue, an email message came in from the ‘well over 6-figure boss’ that said he had selected an angel from the gifting tree and made a $100 donation on behalf of the 10-member sales team.  The donation was to help make Christmas a little better for a 10-year-old boy. Seems like a nice gesture, doesn’t it?  Well, it was until you read the next part of the message that 6-figures sent to all 10 members. He wrote, “Please forward $10 to my wife’s PayPal or Venmo account to cover your contribution to this gift.” Let me get this straight…out of the goodness of your Grinch heart, you decided to splurge and donate a whopping $100 on behalf of your 10-member sales team only to request a $10 payback from the people who had no part in the decision to donate a measly $100?  And you feel good about the $10 you gave from your own pocket-or your wife’s PayPal or Venmo account? Yeah, I know, every little bit helps, but what kind of person who makes six figures can’t give a little more than $I0 to help a 10-year-old boy, or confer with his employees before signing them up for an embarrassing donation? Oh, I know, I know….the same kind of person who tries to knock down fabulous a few pegs.

aging, comedy, Community, family, Food, holiday, Humor, women

One Way or Another

I went to two Christmas parades last weekend.  Yes, that’s a lot of parading in one weekend, but it was worth it. I had a few laughs and came to realize that parades aren’t what they used to be.

When I was growing up, we would go to the annual university homecoming parade that marched right past my dad’s gas station.  It wasn’t a holiday parade, but it was all we had. It was fun to see all the princesses and fancy floats and hear the bands.  Then one year, when I was older, I had to be in the parade.  No, I wasn’t a princess-I was in the band. That was my mother’s fault-she made me join to keep me out of trouble.

Fast-forward to the Christmas parades last weekend.  I still wasn’t a princess and I certainly wasn’t in the one high school band that marched by while playing an actual Christmas song.  I was just a spectator,  but what I saw made me realize that parades have changed.  It’s no longer about the people, floats, or bands; It’s about the candy. When did taking home bags, and I mean bags, of what used to be penny candy and bubble gum become the reason for the season?  Don’t parade goers know that the only person happy about them eating all that junk is Hermey the Dentist who will have to repair the damage caused by too much sugar?

Candy distribution at the first parade consisted of paraders throwing handfuls of candy into the crowd.  You’d think that kids would be the ones going after it, but in many cases, it was their parents and sometimes, their grandparents.   After all, you have to be aggressive if you want all that free candy and sometimes, Junior just can’t muscle out his competitors to get that one Tootsie Roll that’s out in the street.  “Come on boy,” I thought, “If you want it, go get it and let grandma sit in her lawn chair holding the first full bag of junk.”  He obviously couldn’t hear me. He made grandma go get his fair share.

At the second parade, there seemed to be an unwritten law that prohibited throwing of candy.  Paraders handed candy directly to parade goers.  I never saw such a thing and after thinking about it, I’ve decided it’s either due to lawsuits or the ‘Everybody Gets a Medallion’ era.  At some point in the past, Grandpa must have gotten run over by a hot ball and sued the parade sponsors.  Or, Junior must not have been aggressive enough to reach Tootsie out in the street and his bag ended up being emptier than everyone around him. To make things fair, the law of candy distribution was changed so that every person has an equal chance of getting a piece of candy.  Now Junior doesn’t have to rely on grandma or figure things out for himself-because everybody gets a medallion.

Yeah, parades aren’t about princesses, floats, and bands anymore.  They’re about free candy and making sure everybody gets fair share-one way or another.

aging, comedy, Dining, Food, Friends, Health, holiday, Humor, women, work

Unwanted Attention

It’s December 1st and opening day for Christmas season, which means getting decorations out of the attic and going to the ‘holiday party’ at work.  At last year’s party, I got a little more attention than I wanted.  No, I didn’t overindulge and tell anybody off, at least I don’t think I did.  But I did have a mishap that caught everyone’s attention at the party.

It was lunchtime on the day of the festive gig.  I found a leftover piece of pizza in the fridge and decided it would hold me over until the germ-infested buffet later that evening.  Buffets?  Who really wants to eat food served with utensils that were touched by every person in the room…especially when a lot of people in the room ‘haven’t been feeling well’?  Sometimes you don’t have a choice and you have to eat it. Save yourself some sickness by using a napkin to handle serving spoons or fill your plate and wash your hands before starting to eat.  Yes, I know, I have issues, but I’m only looking out for you.

Anyway, while eating my pizza I was holding the plate a little too close to my mouth, which I didn’t realize until it was too late.  As I cut a piece of pizza with my fork, the plate flipped up and hit just above my upper lip.  I knew it was bad when I saw red swirls in my ice water after taking a quick sip.  I knew it was even badder when I looked in the mirror and saw my fat, split lip.  I iced it, taped the edges together, and eventually covered it with makeup, but I knew it was gonna get some attention at the party…and I was right.

Some people just outright asked, “What happened to your lip?” while others looked and then looked away like nothing was wrong. You know, how you look and then look away when somebody you’re talking with has something in their nose?  Well, it was like that…they saw it, tried to pretend they didn’t see it, but couldn’t stop looking at it. Some did double takes and others did triple.  I guess it was a low-level accident scene but hey, I wasn’t gonna miss the ‘holiday party’ over an incident with a piece of pizza.

At the height of my unwanted attention, one work colleague decided I had something on my face that she could easily scrape off.  Bless her heart. She came in towards my lip with her little finger extended and said, “You have something on your lip.  Let me get it for you.”  “Well, if you can get that for me, I can go back to being just another ‘holiday party’ attendee instead of the center of attention,” I thought as I swatted her pinky away before it reached my lip, which was now a pretty shade of blue.  No pinky was gonna get that!

So today, I’m not eating any leftover pizza from the fridge to hold me over until the germ-infested buffet.  I wonder where everyone will focus their attention this year.

Thanks for reading and be sure to #ShareTheLaughter !

Eliza G.

aging, comedy, customer service, Dining, holiday, Humor, vacation, women

There was a lot of Pretending

While traveling for the Thanksgiving holiday, I stayed at a hotel and ate in the dining room. Little did I know there would be a lot of pretending.

Upon arrival in the dining area there was not a soul in sight.  I knew that meant things were not going to go well but I didn’t want to get back in the car after just getting out.  I told myself it would get better, but myself was skeptical and so was my husband who searched for someone to wait on us. When he finally summoned the waitress from the breakroom she pretended she had been watching for customers but that we “snuck through.” Hmmm, there was no snuck through involved. We walked right across the main lobby in plain sight.  Oh and by the way, is it still okay to use the word waitress?  I often hear the hostess tell me who my server will be so I’m thinking waitress might be a no-no. Actually, now that I think about it, hostess also could be a problem.

Anyway, back to the real story.  Following protocol, the waitress brought drinks and asked for our order.  I said, “I’ll have the tomato basil soup and a”…I was immediately cut off. “We are out of soup,” said the waitress. Yes, I know what you’re thinking and you’re right-it fits perfectly here.  So let’s pause for a snicker and move on.

As I sat there with no soup for you and recognized that once again I had found the flaw, I drank all my water and was ready for more. Of course, the waitress was nowhere to be found.  She told us to let her know if we needed anything, which is pretty hard to do when we can’t find her.  I think they teach that in waitress school-make it sound like you’ll be nearby but then go and hide so nobody can ask for anything.  When it’s been awhile and you know the customer is pissed, walk over to the table and pretend you’ve been around the whole time.  Our waitress must have gotten an A in that class because when she finally showed up with the water pitcher she pretended that I had just taken the last sip.  She smiled and told me she was gonna help me out and “feel me up.” Oh, my mistake, “fill me up.”

Next came bill time.  Wanna guess what happened?  Go ahead, you can do it and I know you’ll get it right-She was nowhere to be found. We sat, and sat, and sat, and when she knew we were pissed she walked over to the table pretending she was nearby the whole time.  She put the bill on the table-right in a puddle of salad dressing.  Smiling and knowing full well what she had done, she pretended she didn’t and walked away.

I know, I’m being hard on someone who probably isn’t paid well and has to pretend she cares about serving weary travelers who want soup, expect water refills, and need a bill so they can pay it.  So, the next time I travel, I’m gonna pretend to go to the hotel dining room, but I’m really gonna eat somewhere else.

Thanks for following my #FabulouslyFunny stories and always remember to #ShareTheLaughter

Eliza G.

 

 

aging, holiday, Humor, vacation, women

The Day After

After what I ate while giving thanks yesterday I am spending today giving my new activity tracker a workout.  That’s a lie.  I’m not being active today.  I hit a step goal and am willing to incur a few penalties for inactivity over the remainder of the day. I could do a few other things on this, the day after.

The day after Thanksgiving is always a lazy day. A lot of people go shopping but since I’m not a shopper the other 364 days of the year there’s no reason to venture out on the day after.  I could go, but there’s nothing I need that bad.  Shopping on the day after is a pretty, pretty, pretty bad idea.

I could go disobey, which really isn’t a bad idea. I like to disobey. It doesn’t require much effort aside from getting to the place where they permit me to disobey. Lifting a hammered copper Moscow mule mug requires little effort-even if I do it multiple times in an hour. Disobeying on the day after sounds like a pretty, pretty, pretty good idea.

I could also practice a new magic trick that I’m learning. The turkey and stuffing I ate yesterday might make levitating a little more challenging, but I’m willing to give it a try. I’ll just kick back, relax, and let levity do its job as I lift one stein and then another. Levitating on the day after sounds like a pretty, pretty, pretty good idea.

Yes, it’s the day after and I really don’t need to do anything besides incur activity penalties. I’m not going shopping, but I would disobey or levitate. Actually, I could do both, which could make the day after the day after pretty, pretty, pretty interesting.

Thanks for following #MyFruitoftheWomb !

Eliza G.

aging, family, Friends, holiday, Humor, introvert, women, work

For That, I am Thankful

I’ve heard people say that they like to look at the sunny side of life. I’m not that optimistic.  Instead, I like to laugh so I look at the funny side. The reality is, there are a lot of funny things that happen in everyday life…if you just look. Trust me, I looked a lot over the past 8 months and had many laughs in the process.  In fact, today, I’m sharing my 70th story about the funny things that happened in my life. And just so ya know, I am thankful for every one of them.

By choice, I don’t have a lot of friends.  I believe in quality rather than quantity in most things in life-including roses. I guess you could say the older I get, the wiser I become. My friends and loyal followers read my stories even when they don’t find them funny.  Well, at least they appear to be following and reading them and for that, I am thankful.

Also by choice, I have a job where I make a difference. Well, at least I think I make a difference-even for those who can’t keep up. The downside is that I encounter a lot of people at work who act high schoolerish and others who fuss when Grandma gets run over by a reindeer, but I have a job, and for that, I am thankful.

Partially by choice, I have a family that includes members who murmur, others who read every story, Kristi M. who always has a quick comeback, and my fabulously funny editor who takes the time to share the laughter before anybody else has a chance to do so.  For all of them, I am thankful.

Not by choice, I have the ability to shuffle. Sure, it’s fully by choice that I actually go out and pretend to run while almost falling over Willy, being outpaced by a dog on a jog, and acting tree-huggerish, but I’ve been blessed with good health and for that, I am thankful.

Lastly, and fully by the grace of God, when all the funny stories come together, I have a life that’s good and for that, I am thankful.

Wishing you many fabulously funny stories from around the Thanksgiving table and a life that’s good.  Cheers!

Eliza G.