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Monday, May 16, 2005

Fridays With Skippy

So on Friday, we had a team “meeting” at Old Chicago at 2 PM, as our manager is going to another group. Well, the out-going manager has only been my manager for about a month and a half or so, and I’d only met with her once. So really, it’s not a big deal to me that she’s leaving, although having a so-called meeting at a bar at 2 PM on a Friday is a lot more appealing to me than sitting at my cubical. At Old Chicago, I was the first person from my part of the group (those who work in my building) to show up, and I got there at 2:30. I was surprised, because I left later since I was working on an issue and figured that I’d be the last person there. The rest of the other part of the group were all there. Well, only about five people from my building showed up at all, so I got stuck sitting by the only person from the other building that I know, and then by the husband of the leaving manager, who I’ll call Skippy. That was a fucking treat! Here are comments made by Skippy that afternoon (and keep in mind that he was supposed to be his wife’s DD):

(With his wife/my manager sitting right next to him and sipping on a Captain and Coke) “A husband has to be an asshole to his wife, because if he isn’t, she’ll treat him like shit!”

(Keep in mind that my manager isn’t attractive and he’s telling me this with chew all over his teeth, while having his second Captain and Coke): “When you get older, she’ll be asking for it three times a week. And if you aren’t giving it to her, she’ll find someone else who will. She’s lucky though, because I give it to her every night!”

(After my wife and son left, as they stopped by for a few minutes as they were in the area) Skippy (drinking a 7 and 7): “I know why you had her come up her.”
Me: “Because I love her and my son and wanted to see them?”
Skippy: “No. Because you wanted to show all the girls here how good of a guy you are in case things go bad between you and her.”
Me: “What the fuck are you talking about?”
Skippy: “Oh, you know exactly what I’m talking about!”
(Also, let me make this clear about the women who were there when he said this to me. I think there were seven women total. Four of them are over 50 years old and 200 pounds each. Two are complete cunts, and when they were arguing about who ordered what appetizer physically reminded me of a “Jerry Springer Show” confrontation, pre-Steve coming out and breaking up their fight. Not very attractive. And the last one just isn’t pretty and bugs the shit out of me. So the last thing I would ever try to do is impress any of them, even if I were single, just out of prison, and ate a jar of green M&M’s. I promise you that.)

“I’m driven by money, and that’s all I really care about.”

“I was married to my last wife for 16 years, and I was the father to her kid, even though I found out that he wasn’t mine. So I got out of there, never looked back, and I partied like a mother-fucker for three straight years. That’s what you have to do.”

“I can tell you ain’t happy. I can just tell by the look on your face.” (This statement was actually pretty accurate at that point in the afternoon.)

“I love my wife, but when we were just dating, I dated and screwed a lot of other chicks. But when she told me that it was either her only or we were through, I proposed that night. That’s how much I love this woman.” (What a lucky lady!)

(In regards to Old Chicago’s “World Beer Tour”, where you get credit for drinking different beers): Skippy: “Man, you’re a sucker! How many beers did you get credit for on your card for that one?”
Me: “Um, I’m guessing one, but I haven’t tabbed out yet.”Skippy: “Sucker! I only got this one, and he gave me credit for four.”
Me (under-whelmed): “Wow man. That’s awesome.”
Skippy: “I just told the guy to give me credit for as many as he could, and he did.”
Me: “That’s awesome.”
Skippy: “You know why he did it?”
Me: “I honestly have no idea.”
Skippy: “Because I tipped him 50% on the beer. (Note: He bought a $3 Miller Lite draw and gave him $4.) You always got tip well, so they remember you, and then they’ll help you out like he did with those three extra beers he gave me credit for.”
Me: “Yeah, I’ll have to remember that.”
Skippy: “What do you usually tip?”
Me: “Well, I used to work jobs where I got tipped, so I usually tip well. It depends on the service, but I never tip less than 20%.”
Skippy: “That’s it? Shit! No wonder you only got one credit for the one beer.”
Me: “Well, I actually have a tab running and…”
Skippy: “I always tip 50%, no matter what. That way they’ll remember me, and next time I come in they’ll be fighting for my table.”
Me (thinking to myself that the teeth full of chew and the two spilled glasses will make them really clamor to serve him): “Yep. I’ll bet they won’t forget you for awhile.”

I’d go on, but that’s probably enough for one entry. I’ll write tomorrow about my weekend in Wicha-Wicha-Wichita! And how Hank is Wiser.


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