I know, that’s supposed to be “if we were having coffee” but I’m still in the work-a-day world where coffee falls into three main categories:
- Get me up and outta-here
- Keep me focused on this pile of stuff
- Lord help me survive this meeting
One of my blogging buddies twisted the if-we-were-having-coffee theme the day I started writing this post. Take a look, see how Maggie changed it up to a glass of wine? As soon as I read that, I thought “Maggie took my idea.” Later, I realized that Maggie is connected to none other than Sammy D and Sammy’s and my drafts folder have gotten tangled before. They are both great ladies and I love their blogs.
I might mention how it can be awkward when a happily married guy is following female bloggers. The key to having it never be awkward is a two-part key. I might share this with you over a beer if you were a lot younger than me and I was passing on wisdom. Part-1: be careful what you say if you comment on their blog. Part-2: don’t try to conceal the blog connections, or anything else for that matter, from your wife.
You might think that Part-1 is hard for me. It’s not. Oh, I might say something stupid to Maggie or Sammy if I was having coffee with them, or wine, or a beer, but not usually when I write a comment. I can look at what I’ve written and realize how that might be misinterpreted or how it misrepresents the voices in my head. Unfortunately, I usually don’t realize that something might be wrong with what I’ve just said until I see the look on the woman’s face:
“You look good in that dress today” – i.e. not those other ones, the ones you’ve worn every other day that I’ve worked with you, but that one dress, today and the dress is doing all the work.
As for Part-2, I don’t conceal anything. Every now and then I think about trying, like when I got stopped by a local cop but only got a warning. Why should I bring that up? Well, there’s a hundred possible bad outcomes, and they all end with “why didn’t you just tell me?” Sometimes, I can’t tell her stuff – work stuff – and that stinks.
Anyway, if we were having that beer, we would probably be sitting at a bar, and we would be sharing things back and forth. One of us would comment on what a good/bad/weird/cold/long week it’s been and then the snippets of life would come spewing out.
I would share my frustration with shopping for
pants slacks. My English friend David tells me that ‘pants’ implies underwear. Not underwear, I was shopping for casual slacks, Dockers et al. 38-34, flat-front, in black, dark blue and / or gray. You would understand cuz that’s what we wear. Neither Sears nor Macy’s had these pants in my size. They had 38-29, 38-30, 38-32 but that’s where it ended.
It was suggested to me that “maybe you should come back later in the week, we restock for the weekends” so I went back on Friday night.
At this point, you would look at me funny and say “wait, dude, you went shopping for clothes twice in one week?” and then you would question my manhood and start calling me “Danielle.” I would say what guys always say. That phrase, I don’t need to say it. Guys know, women can guess.
I did go back, and it ended well, but not without some head scratching.
Sears still didn’t have any pants in my size. None, zip, zero save for one pair of blue pants that look like work pants. I have nothing against work, workers or work clothes, but I don’t like that shade of blue. I asked the salesgirl if they might have more in the back – I mean stores always used to have more “in the back” didn’t they. She rambled on non-stop with:
“No I don’t think we do. 38-34 is a popular size, we’re usually out of them. We order stock on Monday and we get a truck on Thursday morning and the guys unload the truck and the stockers take the new stock and put it on the shelves, but it takes like all day and they might not get done until the morning so you might have to check back on Friday night.”
Me: “It is Friday night.”
Salesgirl: “It is? Oh, then I don’t know. Maybe they didn’t finish? I’d check but I don’t know anything about the back room.”
I could believe that.
I decided to try searching the piles at Macy’s. Piles vs. sections-by-size is one reason I prefer Sears to Macy’s. Sears has pants organized by size and style so I only have to go to the “38 Waist” section to realize that I’m out of luck. Sure, I do a quick scan for random 38’s but usually one quick glance is enough. Macy’s just has pants all jumbled on a table or a shelf. Macy’s also likes to sell Dockers at list price but they were having a 1-day sale on Friday so I was good. Macy’s even had a saleswoman willing to help me look. I found two pairs of pants and the saleswoman found another pair. She showed them to me and said:
“These are a slightly different style, but it’s a nice color and they have a little elastic section in the waistband, which will be good for you.”
Really? Did she have to add that? If I had said that to her, I’d get that look I often get from women when I speak.
At this point we would be laughing, sharing stories of when we’ve said stuff like that to women and agreeing that we should just be allowed to wear jeans to work. You’d call the bartender over and say “I’ll have another” and you’d point at me and say “and put another one of whatever she’s drinking on my tab.”