For those of you who don’t know me, I work in the ever-exciting and refined world of roofing (very “high brow”). I was asked at a 4th of July celebration recently if this was “just a job” or a “career”, and I couldn’t respond fast enough: THIS IS JUST A JOB, DEFINITELY NOT MY CAREER!!! In fact, how I ended up here is, quite frankly, the result of a desperate and fruitless job search that ended with me working for the Satan of mega chain home improvement stores, and then getting temporarily stuck in the construction industry. Trust me, I’m frantically planning my escape route.
Anyway, for the time being, I find that I love my fellow roofers and here’s why: they are an ENDLESS source of entertainment, as demonstrated by the following conversation I had with our warehouseman earlier this week (we’ll call him “Joe-Bob”)…
JOE-BOB: I had to go into Seattle this morning and traffic wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.
ME: Really? Why did you have to go into Seattle?
JOE-BOB: Well, I had to take a buddy of mine to the hospital for some tests. He had to get one of those things, what do you call em, a mammogram? Where he has to drink that stuff, and then they stick a tube up your whatsit?
ME: Um, I think I know what you mean.
JOE-BOB: What’s that called again? A mammogram?
ME: No that is a test that women have, Joe-Bob…
JOE-BOB: Oh, that’s right! They gave him one of those before too, and my friend told the doctor, ‘What are you doing that for, I’m not pregnant!’
ME: Joe-Bob, that would be an ultrasound, not a mammogram.
JOE-BOB: Oh. Whatever.
Call me an elitist snob, call me a hater, call me prejudiced against the “educationally underdeveloped”, I don’t care. I PEED MY PANTS after this conversation, it was hilarious. Anyone that can confuse a mammogram and an ultrasound with some test where you drink barium and have a tube stuck “up your whatsit” is on my “OK” list…especially if they are stone cold sober at the time. After all, if I’m ok, then you’re ok. 
Thanks, Buddy Jesus!
