Chris Pascoe’s Fun Tales
Chris’s little mix up with names has a rather awkward result…
In last week’s column, I spoke about a visit to my mum descending into an argument; my mum ascertaining that, contrary to popular opinion, My Weekly isn’t actually available in any shops and me almost having a breakdown. I don’t want you to think all visits to my mum are like that. Usually they’re much worse. Take this morning… I discovered that many years ago, far from having broken up with an exgirlfriend with dignity as I’d always thought to be the case, I’d actually totally humiliated myself. Or, more specifically, my dad had totally humiliated me.
When the girl in question, being of sound mind, obviously dumped me, I took it on the chin, being very used to this type of thing. I politely told her I completely understood and got on with my life. So… fairly dignified so far. No. Unbeknown to me, around a month later, my dad bumped into my ex-girlfriend’s mother in a supermarket.
“How’s Chris since the break up?” she asked.
Dad, being Dad, panicked. Would it be insulting to say Chris hadn’t seemed at all bothered by losing her daughter, her pride and joy, and just got on with things. He decided it would.
“He’s been terrible,” he said, “He spends all his time in a darkened room crying.”
On hearing this piece of information, I sat aghast. The fact it was now 20 years after the event was probably the only reason I managed not to have my second breakdown in as many weeks. I really did feel like sitting in a darkened room crying.
Mind you, as regular readers know only too well, I really don’t need help with humiliating myself. Case in point came just the other day, on a key collection visit to new cat sitting customers. Having speedily glanced through the checklist Lorraine had prepared for me, and (mistakenly) noting that the couple’s names were Kevin and Nicki, owners of an indoor Siamese named Sophie, I rang their doorbell.
Scan-reading has never been my strong point. Had it been, I probably wouldn’t have mixed up the cat’s and owner’s names. Hence, having been greeted at the door with a warm handshake by Kevin, I looked up to see Sophie coming down the stairs holding her cat, Nicki.
“Awww, you must be Sophie!” I crooned, “Aren’t you a lovely girl. You’re beautiful, aren’t you?”
To say Sophie and her husband looked surprised by my bold opening comments is an understatement. However, undeterred, I carried on. “I’m not surprised you’re not allowed out, Sophie! Everyone would want to take you home with them, wouldn’t they?”
As I stepped forward to give the cat a stroke, arm outstretched and softly chirruping, Kevin’s jaw dropped in astonishment. Human Sophie, having backed away, suddenly realised what was happening and, in a show of outstanding diplomacy, brushed aside my mistake with, “So, OK, this is our cat Nicki, and you’re so right – she really is beautiful.”
It’s amazing I actually keep any customers, isn’t it?