Last week the nice young couple across the street were vacationing in Barbados (we're lucky to get to Oklahoma!). Before they left I received a text from the guy asking if I'd keep an eye out, pick up packages and mail. No problem!
The morning after they got back, he texted me and wanted to know when he could pick his stuff up. With our dog pack, it's easier for me to just meet him outside. So I met him on our stoop.
"Hey, how was Barbados," I asked.
"Oh, man, it was great. The weather was warm, I surfed a little, and swam with the turtles," he said. I didn't pursue it further, but I hope that wasn't like "swimming with the fishes."
"Then you come back to this," I splayed my hand at Kansas.
"Yeah." He stared down at his feet like he couldn't tolerate standing in Kansas.
"Okay, here's your packages and mail." I handed over the bounty.
"Thanks again. Well, I'm going to get out of your hair," he offered, seeking a speedy getaway.
"What hair?" I asked.
"Heh, yeah. But I gotta run." He hitched a thumb across the street.
"Oh, okay, I don't mean to hold you up," I said, while doing just that.
One step down the front steps, I stopped him. "Hey, we're going to be out of town from the 23rd to 27th or so. Could you maybe pick up packages? You know how it is...I still have late gifts trickling in." I offered a little chuckle, which wasn't reciprocated.
He scowled. "Uh...yeah, I can do that." He turned around and took another step down.
I pulled out my best Columbo imitation. "Just one more thing. Your decorative candy canes?"
"What about them?"
"The three in front of the door aren't lighting up."
One more step on his getaway. "I think I remember that when I set them up."
"Oh."
"I'll shoot you a text when we leave. You know, just a friendly reminder."
"Gotta go!" He practically ran down the yard and into the street to the safety of his house.
It wasn't until he slammed his door that I realized I'd just "old-manned" the young neighbor.
I was reminded of the time nearly thirty years ago when I first moved in and was the youngster on the block. My arms loaded with grocery sacks, I got out of my car and heard the old man across the street calling out my name.
Crap, I thought. Caught!
Sure enough he began to leisurely stroll across his yard. To speed things up, I met him in the street. Maybe a speeding car would put a quick end to our sure-to-be agonizing convo.
No such luck. As the groceries in my arms grew heavier and things started melting, the old guy kept me out there for twenty minutes. To make matters worse, he wasn't wearing his hearing aid, so I had to speak up and repeat bland niceties about the weather at mega-levels. I told him that when I trimmed the front hedges, I developed terrible poison ivy.
"I coulda told you that there was poison ivy in the bushes," the only helpful thing he said. Just too late.
I kept looking down the street for a runaway vehicle. Finally, he said, "well, I'll get outta your hair." (This was back when I actually had hair.)
My arms aching, I pitched a sigh of relief as I escaped inside. I had been "old-manned."
Yikes. I guess what goes around comes around. I hadn't thought my conversation with my young neighbor was too long, or too old-manly, or too dull, but my unwitting victim apparently did. I just never thought I'd be doing any "old-manning."
Just hope those young whippersnappers stay outta my yard. Well, time to put on my gravy-stained sweater and head down to the cafeteria for the early bird hour.
Speaking of all things autobiographical, check out my book Corporate Wolf. Many of the things that happened to our hapless protagonist happened to me in my tenure in the big business sector. Well, except for the werewolf stuff. And the gruesome murders (although there were several coworkers who I envisioned meeting gruesome endings.). Come for the corporate satire and stick around for the dark humor and horror and mystery of Corporate Wolf.
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