ArticlesBetween my stories, and those of Sunny, Cassie and Ferryman (I’m still grinning at the thought of that last one.) we are starting to get a theme here of things we have said that came out wrong.
Here’s another story of coming out wrong… wait, wait… let me re-word that.
Act I
I was at a festival in Ireland festival last month, and I met up with an Australian friend.
“Have you met any other Australians here?” I asked.
“Oh yes!” she exclaimed, and then listed off a number of people that I knew. “And Gabe.” she finished off.
“Gabe? I don’t know Gabe.” I explained.
“Oh, Gabe from Brisbane! You don’t know her? Everyone knows Gabe. She’s lovely! You’ve got to meet Gabe.”
Act II
This young woman comes up to me slightly excited.
“Oh! You are speaking with an Australian accent! I am from Australia too!”
“Oh hello!” I said, “Are you Gabe?”
“WHAT DID YOU SAY?!” she demanded, her eyes angry and her voice sounding offended.
Now, I am familiar enough with offending people, but rarely so quickly and so innocently. I was caught on the backfoot.
“Err.. Sorry, I heard there was an Australian woman her called Gabe, and I was just asking if your were Gabe.”
“Oh! Gabe!” she repeated, the fire in her eyes dying away. “I misheard you. No, I am not Gabe!” she clarified, emphasizing the plosive.
Act III
Even after I had stammered out some apologies, and tried to act as polite as possible towards her, it didn’t seem like she really quite trusted me after my faux pas. At least not until the next day, when she came up to me with another woman in tow: “Julian, I’ve got someone you should meet. This is Gabe.”
Comment by Chris on August 24, 2006
I think I’ve told you already about the time I worked for a bank (in it’s Electronic Data Processing department, if that doesn’t date me like a growth ring). This bank worked a pretty strict 8:06am to 5:10pm day, and if you needed to work beyond branch operation hours (even in the EDP HQ) you had to call security and they’d log it. This was also useful for corroborating your overtime claims, but that’s another story.
I knew had to work back later than 5pm, so I called the guard room’s number. The security guard posted in the room with the CCTV and alarm gear was responsible for EDP’s security and the real bank branch downstairs.
[Ring ring]
“Security” a man said.
“Hi, I’m being held up…” I said.
[Sounds of a security guard in a panic, possibly fumbling for his gun.]
There followed a couple of minutes of explaining that by “held up” I meant “delayed”
Comment by Cassie on August 25, 2006
One of my coaches offered me some advice recently, loud enough that everyone in my class (and probably some people in other classes nearby) could hear:
“You’ve got to keep your legs together!”
[Pause – stunned/embarrassed looks on people’s faces]
“For the backflip, I mean.”