Get ready, I’ve got some big news to share! I’m talking REALLY big here; the kind of earth-shattering, history-making news that changes the way you perceive the world, forcing you to reexamine that which you had always believed was impossible, like the Cold War ending or Michael Jackson fathering a child.
Are you sitting down? Go on, you better sit down for this. Okay, here goes: I WON A FREE LUNCH! I know, I know; I can hardly believe it myself! I mean, you always drop your business card into the Thai restaurant fishbowl, but you never really think you’ve got a shot at winning!
I got the news of my big win about a week ago. The call came from Preston, a smooth-talking financial planner who sounded just the way you’d imagine a financial planner named Preston would sound. (NOTE: To avoid offending readers who are named Preston, best friends with a Preston, or who shop at Preston’s Yacht-A-Rama, I will refrain from making outlandish generalizations that are based solely on Preston’s voice. After all, there’s no place here for adjectives like “smug," “pompous,” and “ascot-wearing sissy.”)
Preston must’ve been late to his weekly Rifle Club meeting because he spoke very, very fast without bothering to adhere to the most basic principles of conversation etiquette, such as letting the other person talk, staying on topic, and of course, pausing every now and then to exhale. Preston did however possess an extremely rare quality that immediately made me feel warm and fuzzy. Amazingly, he managed to incorporate into EACH AND EVERY SENTENCE the following items: my name, a nickname derived from my name, and a “cool,” “terrific,” or “fantastic.” Wait, did I say ‘warm and fuzzy’? I meant ‘weird and creepy.’
Five minutes and two dozen more times of Preston reminding me that, as my friend, he “couldn’t be any happier for me”-later, I finally had a chance to speak — and you better believe I was going to make very good use of it. After all, I had questions about this fabulous prize and I wanted answers from Preston! When do I pick up my lunch vouchers? Is there an expiration date? Did he get beat up a lot in high school?
“So Preston,” I began. “I’d like to know abo--”
“Hey Rob, sorry to cut you off, Robster, but I’ve got to tell you something that’s going to make this prize of yours even MORE terrific!”
As if this was even possible, Preston did indeed have bigger news to share. What was originally a free Thai lunch for two had now evolved into a three-course meal where my wife Julie and I would be joined by my new buddy Preston!
“Won’t it be great to finally meet one another? Whaddya say, Rob-a-rino?”
What happened next is kind of fuzzy. I vaguely recall drifting into a trance-like state where I began forming words without bothering to first consult my brain. You might’ve heard of this happening, it’s quite common among politicians. So I’m in this bizarre state and for some ungodly reason that must have something to do with the fact that Preston had begun to sound like the teacher in the Charlie Brown cartoons, I said the unthinkable: “Sure Preston. You can join us.”
It took a moment for the gravity of my words to register. When it finally happened, I was ashamed. I had just sold my soul to a sleazy financial planner for a measly lunch.
Three days later, Julie and I arrived at the restaurant with forced optimism about our lunch companion (read: we were willing to put up with Preston so we could stuff our faces with free Pad Thai). We walked up to the hostess stand where a woman mumbled something about showing us “Mr. Preston’s usual spot.” I looked around and saw a blonde haired guy in his early 30s sitting at a corner booth. His perfectly manscaped eyebrows and crested blazer were dead giveaways — this was Preston. From the distance he seemed harmless. And then he spotted us.
(Cue the Jaws theme)
Preston’s eyes became startlingly beady as he smiled slowly, exposing a mouthful of freshly whitened teeth. He stood up and began gliding purposefully towards us. I thought about grabbing Julie’s arm and trying to escape but deep down I knew Preston would be too quick for us. Hell, we wouldn’t even make it back to the hostess stand before he’d catch up, stuffing our pockets with brochures about mutual funds. Sadly, resistance was futile and we knew it. Preston could sense our fear, and no doubt hear my blubbering (“help us, help us, help us”), so we surrendered to his power.
Over the course of the next 90 minutes, Julie and I poked at our Sticky Rice as Preston laid out his “57 Simple Steps to Financial Freedom” Plan. I stopped listening when Preston explained how an introductory payment of $5,000 would help lay the groundwork for our financial future — a point also known as Step 1. Looking back though, the afternoon wasn’t a complete bust. I mean, I did walk away with one piece of information that will serve me well in the future. It's Rule 1 of my Sanity First Plan: Stay clear of restaurant fishbowls. They may look empty, but there's always a shark swimming inside.
© 2006 robbloom.com.
Don't
be selfish. Share the laughter. Send this article to a friend!
My humor column will have you laughing until you stop. Enter your e-mail address below to join my mailing list. WARNING: Hijinks may ensue.