April 11, 2009
I'm a little hard of hearing...
A cute dark haired guy kept passing the booth I sit at 8 hours every day. He'd wave or nod or smile.. or a combination of the three, but no spoken interaction for 5 solid days.
Then yesterday, he walked right up to me and said in a THICK Irish accent "What's the tame?" I smiled, "I don't know the tame, sorry. " He shook his head, "Do you have the tame?" If I don't what the tame is, how can I have it? I said "The tame...uhhh....?" He looked puzzled and said "Do you have the team?" Relieved I said, "Oh no! The team is in Centre Stage. (The band was leading worship in a building name Centre Stage). I was so happy to have figured it out. But I hadn't. He said "No, no, the taaame...." and pointed in the direction of the box under his arm. On the cardboard was written Christianity Magazine. The magazine team/tame?
Finally I said, "I'm sorry, I have no idea what you're talking about..." I spoke slowly and annunciated each and every word. In return he said "What... tame... is... it? T....I....M....E....tame"
That's right, he had to spell it. He wasn't pointing to the cardboard box, he was pointing to his wrist, the universal motion for the time.
I quickly turned around, grabbed my purse and cast my embarrassed face down to find my phone. "It's uhh, 4:11" I turned it around for him to see in case there has been any miscommunications. I think I said something lame like "Sorry, I'm a little hard of hearing..."