Balls and Walnuts
more than you ever wanted to know
Leadership Training Thingie #1
Tonight was the big Meet-n-Greet, an assemblage of bright young and not so young leaders, administrators in their sharp suits, and physician-leaders beaming at us like mother hens. We met in I-shit-you-not The Petroleum Club, which is like J. R. Ewing’s Cattleman’s Club only in Bakersfield — a members-only place we get to use on special occasions. They interviewed me here, for example. Twelve stories up, which makes it the highest point in Bako (I suspect), with a great view of, well, Bako.
The around-the-room tell-us-a-little-bit-about-yourself was the whole point of the evening, I suspect. There were about 20 of us in the room, and we were tasked with revealing something about ourselves that no one else in the room knew. (It occurs to me that I would be hard pressed to do something like that on my blog, or at least I couldn’t do it without getting in Dutch with my wife.) The fellow to my left, nice guy, chief exec of something or another, began by telling a story about how he has realized that he is too trusting. His wife regularly sets out his meds in the evening for him to take. The other night, he was about to take the meds when his wife cried out, “NO!” Turns out they were her meds.
Never one to turn down a straight line, I said, “So THAT’S why your breasts have been so tender lately.” Which proves yet again that either (A) I can really judge a room* or (B) I don’t know how to keep my mouth shut. Perhaps even now my name is being penciled off a List of Future Leaders.
When the talk came round to me, I told them the story of the stupidest thing I had ever done, which was to wash my drapes in college. With the hooks still in. Then I had to talk about the dart frogs and the tarantulas and my three-part SF novel and my sleazy romance. The child psychiatrist sitting across from me no doubt made a mental note to refer me to her adult psych colleagues. The big boss sitting at the end of the table must be thinking, Thank God his chief status is probationary.
But really, how often do I get to do stand-up in front of a room full of (mostly) strangers (who could make or break my career)? Not often enough, I say!
D.
*Because they laughed. Jake and Karen pointed out that my joke might have been met with an exquisite silence, which would have been, you know, awkward.
Been awhile since I’ve visited… and just recently started my blog up again. I’m glad you’re still around. Even more glad you’re still as funny as ever. 🙂
Thanks, Trish!