Hob-Nobbing with the Competition

I have a habit of being rather blunt sometimes.

Not always - I'm actually diplomatic to a fault, and, being quite intuitive, I'm rather adept at knowing what I can say and when. That said, it's also a happened a time or two that while Rob and I drove home from an event, he was saying, "I can't believe you said such-and-such to so-and-so." Rest assured that should I misstep, I will get a talking-to for it on the way home. Ah, he's so sensitive.

Last night was one of those blunt nights. We attended an awards ceremony hosted by one of the companies for which Rob sells. We've attended these before and while they're a nice perk - dinner, drinks, and a night's stay are on the company - they're also a wee bit awkward in that we don't usually know anyone there and, technically, they're all competitors anyhow.

It was with great relief that I ran into Julie, who worked for my father and was his right-hand woman for many years. Someone to talk to! We ended the night with the folks from her new agency, most of whom were taking full-on advantage of the "free drinks" portion of the perk.

Since Rob doesn't drink any more, and I only indulge in the occasional cocktail, we were in a rather precarious position. Hob-nobbing, sober, with competition who were - shall we say - feeling no pain was quite interesting indeed.

Not once, not twice, but three times I found myself saying, "You might want to rephrase that. Consider what you just said and try that again."

When one extremely tipsy man opened with, "I have to tell you my goat story," I remarked that he might want to rephrase that. "I have to tell you my goat story" is probably not your best choice to strike up a conversation with me. Laughter.

When another man, having just left his wife in their hotel room, said, "I just got rid of my wife," I remarked that he might want to rephrase that. I went on, "Tomorrow's headline: 'Wife of award-winning insurance agent goes missing.'" Laughter.

When a third very-drunk agent said to me, "I'm still waiting for that busload of teenagers to arrive. I guess they're not coming," I suggested he might want to rephrase that. And that perhaps he'd enjoy talking with the guy with the goat story. Laughter.

Normally, these are the kinds of things that might cause Rob to shoot me those "be careful" looks, or ask why I had to 'go there' on the way home. But he didn't. He just laughed.

Sometimes, even he likes my style.