The other day my boss returned from lunch and declared, “I’m finally old.”
During lunch, the waitress asked him if he had a son about her age, because her friend looked a lot like my boss. “How old are you?” he asked. “20,” she said. My boss is 38, so it’s possible that he could have a son that age.
But he doesn’t.
The other day one of the salesmen, commenting on the recent frequent absences of the plant manager, said “He’s gone more than Eleanor Roosevelt.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I said.
He looked surprised, then said, “Oh, I guess you’re not old enough to remember.”
“No, but you are,” I said.
“Eleanor Roosevelt and her husband didn’t spend a lot of time together. She was always traveling here and there,” he said.
I wondered about his age, and later learned that he was born in 1926.
When I’m his age, if I want to work like him, I hope that I can.
Posted by on Thursday, July 13, 2006 at 4:51 PM
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