funny story

Super Bowl Commercials, Clown Creepiness and Social Suicide

Posted in Humor, Super Bowl, awkward, clowns, commercials, embarassing moments, funny story, mimes, parties, social suicide on February 2nd, 2009 by Steve Bradley – 4 Comments

Watching Super Bowl commercials yesterday reminded me of one of my favorites from last year - the ETrade “Bobo the Clown” commercial.

Not only does it strike a chord with me, it also reminded me of one of my most embarrassing moments…

Back in my seminary days, I was at a party talking with another student who had a gift for clowning. Not clowning around — literally being a clown. He was also a talented mime.

He told me about the clowning/miming ministry he had, which was obviously near and dear to his heart. Problem was (and is), I hate clowns. Always have. Hate mimes even worse.

Nothing personal, it’s just that clowns creep me out. Mimes are even worse because they get in your face and don’t say anything, pretending to be engaged with objects that don’t exist.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that :) It’s just not my cup of Earl Grey…

Being the good Southern gentlemen I was raised to be, I listened to his stories attentively. I even praised him (genuinely) for his enthusiasm, and encouraged him to keep following the dreams/desires God had placed in his heart.

Then my bride Lee showed up.

Overhearing the subject of our conversation, she (inexplicably I might add, because she’s typically the queen of social graces) blurted out:

“Clowns? Steve hates clowns!!“

[Insert seemingly endless awkward pause...crickets chirping, beads of sweat forming, and the like]

Keeping a stiff upper lip (and trying not to make eye contact with the student), I shot my bride a knowing glance, and said meekly, “We were just talking about how [student's name] has a clowning ministry, and it’s actually really neat.”

To which Lee replied, helpfully, “Oh — well it’s mimes he really hates!!“

[Insert even longer awkward pause, while I calculated whether I should fake a seizure or eek out another reply]

Rebounding, I replied [stammering], “Well…you see…he actually does miming ministry also…and it all sounds…very interesting…[trailing off weakly]“

Just as I was internally congratulating myself for hanging in there, and hoping for my wife to pick me up off the floor, she replied, “Well, I’ll leave you two to talk. See ya’.”

And just as swiftly as she arrived, she was gone.

Leaving me. And the student. In her wake.

Eventually I mustered the courage to stop staring after my wife, realizing the likelihood of her returning to save me from this social prison was nil.

Pressing on, I turned to face the student — bravely hoping against hope to find a way to salvage the situation.

But the damage was done. I could see it in his eyes. That look of “I thought you were my friend.” That sense of “You mean you let me bear my soul to you when you don’t actually give a crap?!!”

I wanted to tell him it was all a lie. That my wife was off her meds. Unfortunately, her status as an accomplished seminary student herself was now working against me…

He could see it in my eyes as well. I really do hate clowns. Hate mimes even worse. The fact that he was not just one, but both of these things was hard for me to get my arms around as well, since he was otherwise a very likeable guy :)

The truth is that I really was genuinely happy for him that he had found something he loved and felt called to do. Had our relationship continued, I might have even grown to love (ok, let’s be real, tolerate) clowning and miming.

But that was not to be. Hurricane Lee had struck, and it was just too raw, too painful to rebuild…

I don’t remember if another word was actually spoken. I do remember that he turned and left first, leaving me standing alone for some indeterminate amount of time. Could have been minutes. Could have been hours. Don’t really know. It’s all a blur to me now…

Postscript: My wife and I get Christmas cards from dozens of old seminary friends/acquaintances. Inexplicably, we’ve never received one from this student…

If you’re out there, somewhere, please accept my [and my bride's] apology — if you gave up clowning, I hope if wasn’t on my account. If God really placed it in your heart, I hope you’re clowning/miming up a storm — not to spite me, but in spite of me.

****************

For everyone else out there, what’s your most embarrassing moment? Have you ever committed social suicide?

Do clowns/mimes creep you out too, or is it just me?

Is Your Communication Clear?

Posted in Humor, church stuff, communication, funny story, power of words on September 8th, 2008 by Steve Bradley – 1 Comment

Ran across this funny story that illustrates well the potential perils of church communication:

One Sunday morning, the pastor noticed little Randy standing in the foyer of the church staring up at a large plaque. It was covered with names and small American flags mounted on either side of it. The six-year old had been staring at the plaque for some time, so the pastor walked up, stood beside the little boy, and said quietly, ‘Good morning Randy.’

‘Good morning Pastor,’ he replied, still focused on the plaque. ‘Pastor, what is this?’

The pastor said, ‘Well son, it’s a memorial to all the young men and women who died in the service.’

Soberly, they just stood together, staring at the large plaque.

Finally, little Randy’s voice, barely audible and trembling with fear asked, ‘Which service, the 8:30 or the 10:45?’

Do you have a story of [mis]communication to share?

How clear is your church’s communication? Do your words mean the same thing to others that they do to you?

Speaker Beware! A Story of Multiple Meanings

Posted in Thomas Hooker, connection, fishing, funny story, meaning, parenting, power of words on August 22nd, 2008 by Steve Bradley – Be the first to comment

Oh, what they teach you in school these days. Christian school no less.

My 8th grade son was learning about a certain prominent religious and colonial leader, who also was one of the key founders of the Colony of Connecticut.

It just so happens that this man has a rather interesting last name — a name that can also be used as a verb to describe the actions of a fisherman.

This is the meaning my son and his friends found amusing. Since my son and I have a fishing trip planned for Labor Day weekend, he thought it would be cool to give himself a new nickname. One that highlighted his extreme angling skills.

He was so proud of this name, he shared it with the teacher of his Bible class. Who then shared it with the school’s headmaster. Who then shared it with my wife. Who then shared it with me. Which caused me, like everyone else along the chain of communication, to be both horrified and extremely amused at the same time [strange combination, I might add].

What was the name, you ask?


“The Hooker”

Inspired by the story of Thomas Hooker. Thanks Thomas.

On the bright side, it did serve as an important (albeit slightly embarrassing) “teachable moment” for me and my son. Rather him hear this stuff from me than elsewhere.

Interesting how simple words can be packed with so many layers of meaning, isn’t it?

Have you ever been misunderstood? What can we do to ensure that our words connect meaningfully with those around us?

Your Call Is VERY Important to Us

Posted in being put on hold, credibility, funny story, power of words on August 8th, 2008 by Steve Bradley – Be the first to comment

Alternative title: “How to Make Your Words Devoid of Meaning”

A post by Abraham Piper reminded me of a recent run-in I’ve had with a large retailer’s credit department…

My bride and I bought a washer and dryer over a year ago with a “no interest until December of 2008″ offer. We’ve been paying on this dutifully to avoid the rather substantial interest charges that would apply were we to pay late or miss a payment. Three months ago, we noticed a $4,200 CREDIT on the account. Problem was, it wasn’t ours.

Seeing an opportunity to play the “suprisingly honest Christians” card, we decided to call and inform them of their mistake. After being on hold for 45 minutes, we finally reached someone. Took another 10 minutes or so to get them to understand we didn’t want to take credit for the credit that wasn’t ours. Seemed to perturb them more than anything. The next month’s bill arrives with a $4,200 “purchase.” Seems harmless enough, until the next month’s bill arrives — which includes new finance charges. The credit had apparently wiped out the 0% finance promotional offer, and we were now being charged interest on the “purchase” we never made.

Another stint on hold lasts for 45 minutes before we give up. Next call, another 45 minutes before someone picks up. Irony is that every minute and a half spent on hold qualifies you to hear this phrase: “Thank you for holding. Your call is important to us. Please stay on the line and an operator will be with you shortly.”

Hmm… If my call were important, it seems you’d answer it as soon as I called. And that you wouldn’t make me listen to the same empty promise over and over. And over. And over. (And over). Especially when I’m helping you fix problems you started in the first place… (I’m not bitter or anything). Eventually someone did pick up, and they appeared to understand my plight and how to go about correcting it properly this time. Only time will tell…

When asked if there was anything else they could do, I asked them if there was another number I could call where I didn’t have to wait on hold for 45 minutes?
Their response? “I’m sorry, we’ve experienced unusual call volumes today.”
My response: “Well, you see I’ve called on three different occasions and the wait time today appears to be about average.”
Their response: “Well sir, there’s nothing we can do about that. We have over 300 people assigned to take phone calls.”
My response: “What if you hired 300 more people? Seems like that would cut your average wait time in half.”
Their response: “Well sir, like I said, there’s nothing we can do about that.”
My response: “I understand there’s likely nothing YOU can do about it, so I’m not trying to give you a hard time, seriously. But someone, somewhere, in your company has made a decision that regularly putting your customers on hold for 45 minutes or more is acceptable. So please relay my displeasure with your company’s decision to the powers that be.”
It’s sad when organizations hide behind words they clearly don’t mean. I’d rather have a frank, but honest answer, than be fed lines that fly in the face of reason.
I understand the motivation though. Don’t admit you’ve made a mistake, or you open yourself up to attack. Unfortunately, the price you pay for playing it safe is the devaluing of words and a loss of credibility.
The moral? Make sure your actions are in line with your words. And just admit it when you make a mistake. And saying something’s true doesn’t make it true. And… well, I’ll stop there and let you fill in the gaps.
What would your “moral to the story” be?

Grocery Store Hell! Or, A Lesson In Patience

Posted in Humor, funny story, grocery stores, hell, patience on August 2nd, 2008 by Steve Bradley – 2 Comments

What’s up with the above picture you say? Well, I’ll tell you…

It all started when my wife asked me, “Oh honey, can you just run real quick to the grocery store? All we need are hot dogs and ice.”

Seemed simple enough.

So, being the self-sacrificing husband that I am, I said, “Sure.”

So naive. So trusting. So gullible.

Little did I know that “real quick” would actually translate into well over an hour — but not just any hour. You know how time slows down when you’re in an accident? How it can make mere seconds feel like an eternity as every detail becomes etched in your memory? That’s what this hour was like — a twilight zone of sorts. A place where hope begins to fade away, ice begins to melt, and patience is tried in a merciless crucible of helpless waiting that I now fondly refer to as “Grocery Store Hell.” :)

Ok, it wasn’t really all that bad, but just thought I’d just add to the dramatic tension a bit.

I found the hot dogs (Oscar Mayer natural beef nitrite free franks — gotta be healthy, you know) and ice quickly enough. Then decided to do the self-checkout option, to save even more time. Scanned my items without a hitch, but since I was writing a check, I had to give the attendant my driver’s license. She took it and my check back to her register/kiosk thingy, and…

That’s when it happened.

It took me a minute or two to notice something was wrong. The attendant looked flustered. She mumbled something about this being her first day. When I asked if there was a problem, she turned to me with a look of desperation, and said, “Your driver’s license is stuck in the cash register.”

“Huh?” I responded intelligently. Rebounding, I decided to take a look for myself. I figured that maybe I could just pry it out, given that I have the strength of ten men, no doubt.

The problem was that it was nowhere in sight. It had fallen into a crack just behind the stainless steel lockbox portion of the register — and there was no apparent way to access it. Eventually a manager came by. “You probably have this happen all the time?” I wondered out loud, hopefully.

“No, ” he replied, avoiding eye contact. “I don’t think this has ever happened before.”

50 minutes, 2 managers, several tools, and numerous angry backed up in line shoppers later, my driver’s license was freed.

About 10 minutes into this ordeal, it dawned on me that maybe God wanted to teach me something. Maybe I’m not the most patient person in the world (and isn’t patience fruit of the Spirit no. 4?). Maybe it’s good to realize once in awhile how little control I really have over my own life, and how infrequently I thank God for how well most things in my life usually go. Maybe I should think about how the poor attendant felt. After all, it was just an accident. A freakish one at that. Yet she could barely look me in the eyes. And her managers didn’t seem to be thinking warm fuzzy thoughts about her. And neither did the customers who were being slowed up in line. And now she had to deal with them while keeping one eye on the cashbox that was left sitting out on the floor in the open.

So…I began to look on the bright side. Since I’m a blogging freak now, I decided to take a picture of the poor managers as they struggled to recover my driver’s license. This made me laugh (to myself, discretely, and not at them, but with them of course). I also thought that lightening the mood a bit might be beneficial for everyone involved. So, I helpfully offered to watch the cash box, and take a little something off the top as commission :) Seriously, I did make a point to reassure the poor attendant that I didn’t want to kill her, I knew this was all an accident, and that if anyone was to blame, it was the designer of the register, not her.

As I left, I thanked them all for their efforts, and told the attendant that things couldn’t get much worse than that, so it should be all downhill from here. And to have a nice day.

Not sure what difference that will make in her life, but it sure made me feel better. Beats stewing over how I’ll never reclaim that hour, ever again, for the rest of my life… :)

Has something like this ever happened to you?
What tries your patience? How do you handle it?