Friday, October 25, 2013

Tim and Jeff

A story just flashed across my brain. I know where it came from, which is probably better than simply having a story materialize out of nowhere--I saw a place name (see below) last night and it took a while to marinate into this memory. Actually, that is all disturbing, in a way.

We were in Fresno, California in a pretty swanky restaurant. I know very little about Fresno, it doesn't look like a swanky place, but this was as good as it gets. Having dinner with my boss, Tim the drunk, and a potential client, Jeff, who made equipment that used sophisticated electronic and x-ray sorting to grade citrus fruit. His machines could spit out a bruised grapefruit at high speed!

That Tim was a drunk was obvious to anyone who thought about it even a little bit. There were two huge blue bottles of vodka in the freezer at the office and "brunch" was washed down with the contents of said bottles. They were in the freezer, it was explained to me, so that dilution was minimized when poured over ice. Hmmmm. After a while, I tried to avoid lunch with him as I would come back loopy and needing a nap. The Omaha paper carried an article a few months ago about his liver transplant. Go figure.

Tim and Jeff were also known to us, the loyal troops, as loud and louder. Tim was loud, for sure, but Jeff was louder. This restaurant was pretentious enough, but it was also designed in such a manner that sound carried, so I noticed that heads would turn every now and then.

Jeff started to tell a story about sheep herding and about a Madam he knew in Nevada, where that sort of thing was and is legal. As the punch line approached, it was sort of like watching a train wreck unfold; you knew how it was going to end but there was no way to avoid it. The story's volume level increased and, as will often happen, the rest of the place quieted down. Jeff belted out a quote from the Madam, "Hell, I've 'entertained' every sheep herder from here to Winnemucca!" Only the word wasn't "entertained." Yep, the f-bomb right there into the startled silence of the room.

Tim almost choked on his martini, I nearly popped an artery laughing, and Jeff didn't know what happened.

Lucky we weren't asked to leave. Still, don't you think the place name "Winnemucca" needs to fit into a story from time to time?

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