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Time-Release Chortle Suppository
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10/11/2005
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Some jokes are called "Joke Grenades" because there is a lag between the time of the telling and the laughter. This can be either because it is inappropriate to laugh at the time- like a tumor joke made in the pediatric cancer ward, or because it takes time to figure out why it is funny- like Fred Durst's career. This was a case of the former, which really isn't a joke grenade in the strictest sense; more of a time-release chortle suppository.
I was at a tradeshow in San Francisco, wandering around, looking at the displays other companies had, and I was approached by a salesman of some sort. The kind of salesman that is so good he can read the badge hanging around your neck and say your name like he has known you his whole life. You totally forget you are wearing a huge sign with your name on it and assume he is a long lost friend.
"Dusty! How's it going?"
"err...pretty...hey, good to..."
"Say, do you know what we do at Megacorp?"
(reading sign, pointing at the words to illustrate that I am reading the sign) "Intelligent solutions for B2B marketing?"
"haha. YES! Very Intuitive! Haha!"
"Okay. I'm going to walk away now. Good talking to you, Brett." (His nametag said 'Brad')
"Ohhh...wait. There's someone here I want you to meet, you won't be sorry."
"That's okay, you probably will."
"Huh?"
"Nevermind."
Here is the part where it is assumed that because I am male, I care about or follow sports in any capacity. He walks me over to this guy in his twenties who is the size of New Hampshire and obviously an athlete and says "Hey Johnny, this is Dusty Scott." As if the guy would somehow be impressed by meeting me.
I shook the guy's meaty hand, he was polite, and said, "Hi Dusty, nice to meet you."
In my defense, he wasn't wearing a nametag or anything, so I asked him his name. Apparently I am the only person in the United States who hasn't heard of Johnny Atomic (I can't for the life of me remember his name or where he plays, only that he is a college football star the likes of which we haven't seen since Bobby Brown).
His reaction was sort of off-putting, as he gave me the condescending chuckle and looked around at his handlers as if to say "Someone tell this idiot who I am."
Brad the sales guy came valiantly to his aid, telling me his name was Tommy Forever or something, number 22 on the San Bernafando Comets (with an annoying "you moron how can you not know who he is" laugh that made me want to find out where he lived so I could sneak in one day while he's at work, crap in his microwave and set it on high for 59 minutes), and I responded by tenderly and unintentionally inserting the suppository.
"Oh, I don't follow NASCAR, but it is good to meet you."
One of my many problems is that sometimes I say stuff off-the-cuff without taking stock of things. Like the fact that this guy was black and NASCAR is a pretty hillbillycentric sport.
I personally find the idea of a twelve foot nine, 4,200 pound black guy driving a racecar around a field full of rednecks hilarious, but on any given day I might have guessed synchronized swimming, bowling, sharp shooting, or any number of other non-sports. As usual, I was the only one laughing- save one guy who ducked behind a podium and giggled like a retard with a shiny new button.
Unfortunately, what I found even funnier was watching the other people at the booth
glance awkwardly at everything except me and the big guy who was about to kill me.
If Lenny Pigskin had been laughing everybody would have had a good chuckle, but he didn't seem to think it was very funny, and like the CEO in a boardroom, everyone followed his lead on what did and did not count as humor. I started to wonder if I had finally crossed the line and was about to be stomped into a paste.
The next day I ran into Brad the Sales guy again, and he said that he initially thought what I did was rude *shocking* but added that when he told the story to his coworkers over dinner, they loved it. Apparently mister tri-county football star's diva behavior didn't garner much favor from the people around him, so they all enjoyed seeing a smartass like me inadvertently piss the guy off at the risk of having my neck snapped.
The moral is that suppositories can be unpleasant at first, but they almost always work.
 Dusty
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posted by Dusty at 4:46 AM |
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14 Comments:
You should really hang out in Canada more. I mean, we like our hockey and all, but there is never that supposition that if you are male you like sports. I dated an American girl for four years and her relatives were terribly puzzled when they would ask me my favourite sport and I would say "kayaking", because it's the only answer which is even vaguely true.
In these situations, you should answer "model plane racing" because it's sort of true and the inclusion of the word "racing" will force them to pretend they're in the know about an obscure "sport".
that's priceless!
-H
My family, we're all about shock value.
love your writing, but i liked this one when i read it the first time.
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