Working My Wood

I’m doing banquet bartending, woman comes up, orders a drink, there’s a bit of a lull, we have time to conversate.

She reads my name tag. Your name is Clint?  Yes, it is. Yours?  Julie. Julie, nice to meet you. We shake hands. She says, I like the name Clint. I say, do you?  I don’t think anyone names their kid Clint anymore. But I’m ok with it. She says, I like Clint on the TV show Fixer Upper. I say, I’ve never heard of it. She says, it’s good. He’s a woodworker. I say, well that’s funny. I like working my wood, too.

She smiles, grabs her drink, says, coyly, I like that. I’ll remember that.

It’s a miracle I haven’t been fired from this job yet.

But it’s all in the way you say it. Innocent, and somewhat naive, with a black face, as if I was really just talking about real wood.

And working it.

-CC

 

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