So here's Cousin Derek's "question of the day," kids: How many times have you felt the burning SHAME and HUMILIATION that accompanies those instances when you've let slip an utterance that you'd like nothing more than to have back? And don't you DARE go bein' all like "Oh, I NEVER do that..." Everybody, no matter who, Doctor, Lawyer, Indian Chief, Bum, Priest, Used Car Dealer, EVERYONE at SOME point in their life has allowed "speak" to come before "think." I know it sounds "crazy-nuts," folks, but despite my BEST efforts to the contrary, such embarrassment has befallen me a number of times during my life. I will now share with you (remember, sharing is caring) one such time where I felt I had nowhere to hide. A time when my words made me feel (burning) shame. Also: sadness, maybe despair.

Ah, Hell, enough of this sappy crap...Let's make with the story, shall we?..

I've said already that I worked at the Gazette. Hey, I said that yesterday! I also told you people about having worked with Rich. Holy crap, that was yesterday, too! So, yeah, Rich was funny, he said funny things, blah blah blah...Rich was an "Ad Rep" at the Gazette. We call those types of people "Account Executives" here at the Agency, but, regardless of title, Rich was (probably still is) a "salesperson." In general, "artists" and "salespeople" don't mix, but, as in all walks of life, there are times when it's OK to make an exception. Another sales monkey who was also "tolerable" was named Larry...

Larry was (still is, potentially) an older gentleman for whom I held respect due to his work ethic and his communication prowess. These factors combined to make MY job easier, which is something I ALWAYS appreciate. Larry and Rich were friends with one another. Well, I'm pretty sure they were. At the very least they were "friendly" with each other. Anyhoo, I've now successfully introduced the two main characters in my pending tale of woe (also: sorrow)...

So, one (fateful) afternoon, whilst I was working (like the DIckens, mind you) on advertisements for kites and cars and lawn care products and such, Rich told me an amusing little tale regarding an odd phone message that he found on his answering machine early that morning. From his account, it sounded as if it were someone's drunken, incoherent ramblings. Rich wasn't sure as to the source, but he did say, in his typical sarcastic manner, that it sounded like "drunk Larry" left the message. I chuckled at the thought of Larry gettin' all boozed up and then calling Rich at 3 in the morning. As such, the phrase "drunk Larry" immediately entered my lexicon...

Rich started to refer to Larry from that point on in conversations with me as "Drunk Larry." I couldn't resist the temptation and soon began doing the same, first only in my head, but out loud as time wore on. It wasn't long before a number of people had spoken the words "drunk Larry," Even if they didn't want to. Soon, "drunk Larry" was uttered everyday. Predictably, it became just as ordinary as anything else. It was "expected," "usual" and, dare I say it, "the norm." Larry had, unbeknownst to him, become "Drunk Larry" in the minds of the monkeys in the advertising art department...

I know I've mentioned before that I toiled away on the "night shift" during most of my employment at the Gazette. The sales monkeys all worked the "day shift," which meant that interaction between myself and their kind was limited at best. In fact, due to this "ships passing in the night" syndrome, it's conceivable that ol' "drunk Larry" could've made it through his life without ever discovering his inflammatory new nickname. I say "could've" because it's true. However, I'm writing this little story for you to read because, well...Let's just say that fate has a way of jabbing you with that "hot poker of justice (also: shame)" from time to time...Like this time...

So one (fateful) afternoon, a few weeks after the initial "drunk Larry" comment from Rich, I was discussing a particular project's pros and cons with a co-worker. I glanced at the layout for the ad, which was a good one, and made the statement that "this kind of looks like a 'drunk Larry' ad." Larry did good layouts...This was a COMPLIMENT...I know it SOUNDS bad (hey, a drunk monkey drew this!) but it's NOT! The person I was chatting with nodded in agreement. I then heard a sound that instantly mortified me. It was a voice that emanated from behind where I was standing. It belonged to Larry. It sounded completely sad and hurt. It said:

"I haven't had a drink in 20 years."

I froze...I was instantly mortified (like I said). I didn't know he was there! Turns out, he really WAS "drunk Larry" after all (who knew!?)...Once I mustered the courage to do so, I turned slowly, only to see him slumping in the chair where he had been sitting the whole time. With my flippant utterance, I had, it seemed, opened up a veritable floodgate of uber-painful memories featuring 12-step programs, sponsors and higher powers for ol' drunk Larry. I instantly felt like a total lump of poo...I WANTED to hide, but there was nowhere for my dumb ass to go. At that moment, anyone who had, up until then, uttered the phrase "drunk Larry" blended into the scenery like art-chameleons, leaving me standing alone, in the center of what suddenly seemed to be a very cold and depressing space...An excuse wouldn't mean much at that point, I figured. I didn't know how to apologize, so I did the only thing I could think of to do...I looked Larry square in his eyes and spoke.

"Rich told me to call you that."

I then walked myself swiftly out of the art department and toward the vending machines in the lunchroom long enough for Larry to wander away. I don't know what happened after that, I don't know if Larry ever asked Rich about it or not. Hell, I don't know if Larry even believed me. Frankly, I was too scared to find out. I didn't know if I'd be guilty of "harassment" at that point and I sure as Hell didn't want to lose my job...I learned a very valuable lesson that day, though. That lesson is "Don't listen to Rich!"

No, seriously, it is...

Labels: indignities, lame stories, me roots, office supply aggression