I knew something was up this week when the BlackBookBerry text messaging reached a fevered pitch. All around the office I could see BlackBookBerries raining in and out of office doorways as the rumor mill spun up like the barrels of a minigun. There was one notable exception to the sudden flurry.
None were coming to me.
Somebody had something on me and it was time I found out about it. So I marched into Tammy’s office and asked her what was up. She said that someone was out to lunch the other day on a sales call with a female client and the client disclosed that she and I had once worked together as “Mooseketeers” on the doomed-from-the-get-go “Wally’s Weekend Ballyhoo”. It was undeniable. I sang, I danced, and I gave young children short, pithy ethical lessons that I now disregard on a daily basis. It wasn’t something I’m proud of, but I was a college kid with no experience needing a part-time job and I did what I had to get my beer money. And by “what I had to” I mean tapdancing to the “No One Likes a Liar” song while smiling like I believed it.
If that had been all it was I was in good shape, but the guys in the office were all looking at me funny. I’d walk into a room and they’d spontanously break into the chorus from “Brush Your Teeth Every Day to Keep The Cavitoids Away”. They must have gotten into the old tapes. Damn you, syndication and Tivo!
They were mocking me. ME of all people! I’m the VP of HR! I finally couldn’t take it anymore.
So I asked Fred, “What?!”
“Do you think you could still fit into your old Mooseketeer outfit?” Fred asked with a smirk. “I ordered one off eBay and was wondering if you”d still fit in it. And maybe sing us a few bars of ‘Never Drink What’s Under the Sink’?”
Count on Fred not just to kick you when you’re down, but kick you, stomp on you, throw dirt in your face, and invite the neighbors over for a good laugh.
I replied, “Of course it won’t fit, fool. It didn’t even fit back THEN. Just like the shoes, the mid-80’s trademark hotpants, and those stupid antlers. That was the whole point!”
Fred nodded, disappointed as if to say, “Well, I figured as much. Funny but I didn’t get the embarrassment I was hoping for. You’ll still wear the outfit and sing though, right?”
I walked off in a huff. That was enough to stymie the rumor machine until Ned started some more of his zombie-fear-mongering. At least it was no longer about me for a change.
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