In
the time B.K. (before kids), my wife and I lived and worked in Houston. I was
at Shell Oil, and she worked at the Houston Chronicle in the department that
wrote and produced the travel sections and special editorial and advertising
sections.
Her
department had five or six people, including her boss. One of her co-workers,
whom we’ll call Mollie to protect the identity of the innocent, had gone to
college with us at LSU. And Mollie said she would be late one morning, because
she had to first take her beloved but old and ailing dog to the vet to have him
put to sleep.
My
wife knew the people she worked with had a tendency to the cruel and cretinous.
She could imagine what jokes they were going to come up with. And so that
morning, before Mollie arrived, she put the fear into them. Don’t you dare make light of this, she
warned. Don’t you dare make a joke about
it. This is really upsetting, she loves this dog, so back off and give her some
silence. Even back then, she was known for “the look” – which I had been
the squirming target of many times, and our sons would be even more – the look
from Mom that says don’t even think about
it.
Her
co-workers got the look. They promised to behave.
Later
that day, my wife and Mollie would be going to get their pictures taken for
passports, needed to do many of the travel stories they were being assigned. So
they both planned to be a little more dressed up than usual (this was back in
the days when people dressed like they were going to work in an office, because
they were).
The
department was working, when in walked a somber Mollie, quiet after bringing
her dog to the vet and dressed for her photograph.
My
wife, my poor wife who wanted to be encouraging and sympathetic, who had warned
the cretins within an inch of their lives, decided to say something nice about
Millie’s clothes.
“Mollie!
You look dressed to kill!”
The
words were out before my wife realized what she had said. There was a moment of
silence. No one said a word; everyone focused on the typewriters in front of
them. My wife thought she might have dodged the supreme embarrassment bullet,
that everyone had missed the gigantic faux pas she had just committed – the very
one she had warned the others against.
And
then she saw shoulders shaking, as people tried to stifle themselves. She saw
people shaking. And then it couldn’t be contained, as a huge wave of laughter
erupted.
When
she told me later what had happened, I tried to be sympathetic. But I was
laughing too hard.
I
got the look.
Two
of my High Calling colleagues, Sam Van Eman at New Breed of Advertisers
and Deidra Riggs at Jumping
Tandem, are hosting a feature on laughter, Like Therapy Only Cheaper. To
see the stories told by others, please visit Jumping
Tandem for the links.
