Thursday, September 12, 2013

The Guys at Work

(post copyright 2013, Dawn Weber)
Jesus had his disciples, the President consults the Cabinet, and my husband has The Guys At Work.
For him, there are no wiser men, no sager sages than these workplace whizzes. Aristotle? Ha! Socrates? Scoff. Michelangelo? Come on! We don't need them.
Not when we have the astute counsel of Jim, Gary, Bob and Other Bob.
Need to know where to get cheap tires? The Guys At Work say to go to Mr. Tire. Wonder what movie to see this weekend? The Guys At Work have seen them all. Curious which car to buy? No doubt the GAWs can tell you.
Yes, we are brushed by greatness to know these wonders of worldliness, these wizards of wisdom. They've offered my man advice on everything from child rearing to Christmas gifts to beef steak.
The phrase ''The Guys At Work said . . . '' elicits an automatic wifely eye roll from me. Not because I disagree with them. In fact, my answers usually match theirs. But the truth isn't the truth until we have the Guys' blessing.
Let's illustrate this scenario with a little dialogue, if you will:
Him: “What movie do you want to see this weekend?”
Me: “Well, I hear “We're the Millers” is good.”
*Crickets chirp*
*Air molecules stand still*
Fade in, two days later:
Him: “Hey - I know. Let's see “We're the Millers” Saturday. The Guys At Work say it's great!”
(Cue the wifely eye-roll.)
If nothing else, at least my agreement with the GAWs proves - at least to me - that I’m right. I love being right. Don't you? I used to dream of being rich or famous, thin or gorgeous.
But I am old. I’ve given up on all that.
And occasionally - just sometimes - I know what I'm talking about. This is because I spent years living single and dirt poor.
Folks - you too can become a rocket scientist. All you need is - nothing and no one! 
That's right. With good old-fashioned poverty, you’ll quickly learn the art of creative scrounging. You’ll also learn to do things yourself, because no one else is around to help. Years of lonely financial struggle have given me solid knowledge of 1040 tax forms, toilet plumbing and your basic Ford engine. Far be it from me to withhold all this valuable knowledge from my husband.
That would be selfish. I have to share.
Case in point: a while back, we hopped in the car to go out to eat. He turned the key.
Car: Click-click-click.
Me: “Sounds like the starter.”
Him (cussing under his breath as we switched cars): “Yeah - maybe.”
Fade in, a few days later.
Me: “Hey. Did you find out what’s wrong with the Taurus?”
Him: “The Guys At Work said it's the starter.”
(Cue the wifely eye-roll.)
Me: “Huh. How about that.”
*Crickets chirp*
*Air molecules stand still* (again).

But just then, the strangest thing happened.
Indeed, the angels sang and the clouds parted.
My husband said Those Words.
Three words.
Three words that every woman dreams of.
Three words that every wife wants to hear.
Wait for it . . . wait for it . . .

''You were right.''


Still working on the book - chapter 34 now, to be exact. Thank you SO much to those of you who've stuck around to read and especially - to comment.
Here's an excerpt from a chapter tentatively title "The Shoulds."

". . . What is it, you ask?
A case of The Shoulds.
It begins every morning, when my eyes - in direct opposition to all good reasoning and the rest of my body - pop open at 4:21 a.m.
I should get up.
This is a lie. I really don’t have to get up until 5 a.m., but The Shoulds . . . they say - you guessed it - that I should.
I remain in bed, but my possibly peri-menopausal (shut up) monkey-mind jumps from tree to metaphorical tree, swinging from branches of Shoulds:
I should change these sheets.
I should clean this bedroom.
I should be a better housekeeper/wife/mother/daughter.
I should be a better person.
The clock now reads 4:22.
Four-plus Shoulds.
One minute.
I should get a shower.
This? I can manage. So I roll out of bed and into the bathroom, stripping off my PJs. Then, I look in the mirror.
Big mistake."
. . .
Stay tuned!


  1. My reflection in the mirror is like an old TV on the fritz. You are gorgeous and soon to be famous!

  2. I remember the old Ford engine you had to learn on ... an escort, right? It seemed like you, me and Steve Orivitz had the three worst cars at the Trib.

  3. Hey Dawn!

    Hah! You were right?! And he admitted it?! Smart lad, your husband.

    Tho of course, he didn't believe it 'til the GAWs told him.


  4. Three best words is hilarious. At my house I'm just wanting,"take the remote." I'd do back flips for that control. I'm getting so excited for your book. Such progress! Oh, and you were right - saw We're the Millers and I almost wet myself. The tattoo!

  5. Wait.

    Back up.

    He said you were RIGHT? Did I hear that correctly?

    Holy cow, Dawn. I got tears in my eyes.


  6. Don't should all over yourself. Who cares if the house needs cleaning, you have a book to complete, 'cause we'd rather be entertained than productive. Genius takes concentration.

  7. Ray - Hey, now - better for a guy to be a big old TV than a flat screen! TWSS! ;0)
    Eric - Actually, that Escort was a huge improvement over the Flaming Fairmont of Death that I had before it.
    Indigo - I know. Those three words are seldom spoken around here, and when they are? They are music, my friend. Music.
    Stacey - The Remote. I don't even try. We've been together 20 years, and I gave up on that 19 years ago.
    Pearl - Yes, it happened. But it will never happen again. *sigh*
    Kelly - I Should myself about the book, too. "I should be writing. I should think of more things to write about. I should be writing." The Shoulds. A chronic condition.

  8. Oh Dawn, did no woman teach you that you SHOULD NEVER look in the mirror before 10 am? Even then, it's a risk.

    Your writing has such an easy flow to it, with humor in every line. I'm in awe and loved it all.

    If only you had a tape recorder when hubby said those three words.


  9. Nice post, great blog, following :)

    Good Luck :)

  10. Sounds like hubby has a case of the "shoulds." I should listen to the GAWS . . . :)

  11. You SHOULD be a freakin' superstar with your own TV show and best-selling book. You are that consistently funny. I want to do a Vulcan mind-meld with you. :)

  12. I just never look in the mirror.

    I tell my husband things and he says he believes me but than hears it from someone else-either the old drunk guy or men at work- and than he tells everyone he heard it from them so it must be true. Sometimes he needs to fall down a hole.

  13. I'm embarrassed to admit, but it's the same thing in my house (even the phrase is the same).
    It usually goes like this, "Well, I didn't think it was a good idea, but the guys at work said it was okay, so we're going to do it."
    No, I wasn't talking about sex.

    BTW, that poster is sooo right. I can definitely tell which one of those guys on the girder is a "genius." He really should put a shirt on. Or at least use a decent sun block. Or he's gonna get a wicked burn.

  14. Robyn - Don't look before 10 a.m. Awesome advice. :) And thanks for your sweet words, my friend!!
    Gran - Thanks for stopping by and following! I'll be right over to your place to do the same.
    Jayne - *Blush* A Vulcan mind-meld! Let's do it! I will even buy you a drink first.
    Thanks, Jayne. Your writing blows my mind, so that means the world coming from you. :)
    Penwasser - Well, I'm just glad I'm not alone in this. My sympathies to Mrs. Penwasser. (That's not the first time I've said that, is it?)
    Ruth - Apparently, according to Robyn, the key is not to look in the mirror before 10 a.m. We should just try that. ;)
    Lisa - The GAWs have all the answers. Just ask them.

  15. Ha! This happens to me, too. With regard to what to watch TV-wise, usually.

    And savor those three little words. ;)

  16. Linda - Oh, I savor them, alright. I savor!

  17. Our opinions are reassured by the suggestions of others at work. That makes me feel good as well. I just leave it at that.LOL

  18. I've just downloaded iStripper, and now I enjoy having the hottest virtual strippers on my taskbar.