All right, then
"All right, then."
This phrase can pop up in myriad situations:
Bar Patron: I'll have a Jack and Coke.
Bartender: We only have Pepsi products.
Bar Patron: All right, then. I'll just take that Jack neat.
Soccer Mom 1: Don't forget, the kids need picked up at six.
Soccer Mom 2: Fudge-cicles. My Toyato 4Runner is in the shop.
Soccer Mom 1: All right, then. I guess I can pick them up this time.
Clown: I'm hungry. Can we stop at the Kwik Pick for a Snickers bar, a six pack of C2 and some Oral-B Satin floss?
Bearded Lady: No. We'll miss the circumcision.
Clown: All right, then. I'll just have a turkey sandwich when we get there.
The situations All right, then can pop up in are indeed numerous. But they all pretty much boil down to one underlying philosophy: A person encounters a situation that is different than what he was expecting. Life has thrown him a curve ball. His previous course of action has been rendered ineffective, and he must figure out another way to accomplish his goals. Then, with the situation fully assessed, he says, "All right, then" and moves on with his life.
It's a real can-do phrase.
Enter "Kenny from the guard station." Kenny is the security guard for the building in which I work. He's an elderly fellow with a sweet snow-white handle-bar mustache. If the mustache isn't enough, he's also generally a swell fellow.
Part of my workday routine is to drink two bottles of water with lunch. Typically, at around 2:30, I wander out to the men's room to take care of said water.
Every once in awhile, when I'm either doing my thing or washing and drying my hands afterwards, "Kenny from the guard station" comes into the bathroom. His response when he sees me:
"All right, then."
Not "What's up," "How're you doing," or "Hey there." Not even the awkward silence that most men prefer when they meet in a public restroom.
"All right, then."
Kenny has come into a bathroom. He's seen a 6-foot-4-inch man standing in said bathroom. This clearly wasn't part of his plans, but he's assessed the situation and determined that he'll be able to move forward anyway.
I don't know what his original plans could possibly be, but his can-do attitude in the face of my daunting presence should be an inspiration to inspiring urinators/defecators/masturbators everywhere...
All right, then, Kenny. All right, then.
posted by Joey D @ 1:36 PM
2 comments
2 Comments:
That clown has good taste in beverages and floss.
I've always preferred the "don't say anything" approach when encountering a friend/co-worker in the men's room. Unfortunately, I work with a large number of chatters. You get used to it.
Ages ago, I used to be a board operator at a local talk-radio station. As such, you get one opportunity to relieve yourself per hour -- during the 5-minute newscast. One day, the talk show host and I were both in the men's room at the same time, and we both opted for silence.
When he gets back on the air, he proceeds to do a 10-minute bit on how the two of us didn't speak in the men's room. It took every ounce of restraint I could muster to tell him the reason that I didn't talk to him was because I hated him with every fiber of my being.
Oh, and his Trib-Review column blows goats.
That sounds akward...
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