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During a brief stint as a temporary administrative employee, I fell under the spell of an alluring coworker named Crystal. The simple act of speaking in complete sentences became virtually impossible when having to address this goddess of lobby receptionists. Here are some examples of our most engrossing conversations.

Me [Pointing to her feet]- Oooo. Careful. Um...uh...break neck. Slippy.
Her- Do you mean I should watch out for the spilled coffee or I’ll get hurt?
Me- Right!

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Me [holding out document]- Hi Crisco...um...I mean Crissla...uh...he-he-hey there...fifty...boss says... need...um...like soon.
Her- Do you mean the boss needs fifty copies of this memo immediately?
Me- Right!

It wouldn’t be surprising if Crystal is a top notch interpreter these days. There are over two hundred additional samples of these riveting discussions...none recorded on tape...thank goodness.

We’ve all said some cockamamy things in public. Many of us would turn back the clock in order to take back those words, and delete them from oral history. The dumbest combination of words ever spoken flew from my mouth. Feel free to challenge me if you’d wish, but here is a story leading to my award winning sentence of stupidity.            

Lunch hour was always spent alone, in my car, listening to Weird Al Yankovic Polka CD’s. On this particular afternoon, a miniature ice-filled cooler sat atop my lap as I ate turkey sandwiches. It was a popular brand name cooler known as Little Playmate. The dashboard clock indicated that snack time was almost over, and a cubicle was calling my name. I sprayed on some cologne and performed a last minute nostril check in hopes of looking sharp upon greeting Crystal in the receptionist’s area. I must’ve made a remarkable entrance because she immediately welcomed me with a high pitched shriek while pointing an index finger at my crotch.
 
“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” I thought, with a satisfied grin.

Suddenly she covered her mouth with one hand as her eyes grew larger than frisbees. It took a few seconds to realize that her shriek wasn’t a JEEPERS-YOUR-MAN PACKAGE-IS-SO-HUGE-shriek. It was more of a I-CAN’T-BELIEVE-OUR-SON-IS-GAY-shriek. Or a HOLY-SHIT-I’M-ABOUT-TO-DRIVE-INTO-THAT-POTHOLE-AT-95 MPH-shriek.

Absolute horror filled her soul.

I peeked down to see what the commotion was all about, and discovered that my crotch area was soaked to the bone (a bone that quickly diminished out of embarrassment). I was in panic mode. Knowing how awful my communication skills are, a more appropriate plan of action would’ve been to step back outside, calm down, and prepare a valid explanation, as well as a desperate apology. Instead, I felt the urgent need to clear up matters right away by frantically shouting the following: 

"NOOOOO, LET ME EXPLAIN. MY LITTLE PLAYMATE WAS LEAKING!"

Smooooooooth.

Amazing! That was the only sentence I ever directed to Crystal without stuttering, and she TOTALLY misinterpreted it. Instead of summarizing the process of storing food at nonlethal temperatures sans the luxury of electric powered refrigeration, I decided to incorporate damage control by running away, as fast as I could, to the bathroom. Things only got worse when the company’s Vice President walked in and saw what he thought was a sexually deprived employee humping the hand dryer.

Want to read more? Chronicles & Opinions of a Nobody is available at
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By the way, What was the dumbest thing you ever said? Share, please.