Friday, February 12, 2010

Not That Kind of Wife

I had a fun conversation this morning. One that had me flung back to 1955 so fast I'll have to go to PT for the whiplash. 

The context:  Business school alumni entrepreneurship networking event, 7:45am

The garb: Business casual. There were slacks, heels, and pearls involved in my look.

The other person: A 40-ish year old man from Massachusetts, a notoriously liberal enclave north of the Mason-Dixon line.

The conversation: (effectively, verbatim. No major elements left out. It was brief)

Him:  Hi! I'm Chip Farmington! (not his real name)
Me: Nice to meet you, I'm Lilac MaidenName (still not able to use my married name glibly)
Him: Are you a wife of one of the entrepreneurs here?

Really. Really? Really???? 

I have no words. None. So few that apart from the witty retort of "no, I'm an organizer," I am ashamed that I had no snappy comeback. I wish I could have whipped some line like "Whoa there gramps, the girls these days have brains and boobs!" but I didn't. And naturally, he couldn't find the right next words either: Sorry I'm a knuckle-dragging boorish jackass.


Capt. BS said...

I believe the appropriately snappy reply would be a swift kick in the nuts.

MK said...

"The Jerkstore called, they're running out of you!"

Priya said...

the charade would have been funny. you could have offered him a home made cookie