“You hear back from that copywriting gig?”
“No, they said final decisions would be made the 31st and all applicants would be notified then. I got some good karma coming. I was late to pick up Maribeth from choir and gave two big bags of returnables to that harmonica player outside Meijer.” Pullman was smiling like he won something.
Dernovich laughed.
“Wait Pullman...you really believe that gesture is going to have an effect on whether or not that agency hires you?”
“It was a nice thing to do, right?”
“I guarantee Feely appreciated it, yes.”
“That’s the guy’s name? Feely?”
Dernovich’s eyebrows did an annoyed little dance.
“It’s written on his harmonica case in red nail polish. He’s only been out there playing for what...eight years?”
“Aww, I don’t pay much attention.” Now Pullman looked annoyed.
“I gave the guy like 12 bucks worth of returnables, though.”
“That’s great. I don’t think it has any bearing on your job opportunity, but I’m glad you gave Feely the returnables. He loves putting the cans in those machines. It’s some kinda Zen thing to him.”
Marcia Dernovich came in through the French doors. “You guys talking about Feely?”
Pullman’s face scrunched.
“What… is that guy like one of your best friends or somethin’? The dirty old harmonica guy?”
The Dernoviches looked at each other.
“Yes, he is our friend. Sure. We like his company,” Marcia said.
Pullman stuck his pinkie finger under his Fitbit, scratched an itch.
Then he chuckled.
“Like you have the guy over for dinner or something?”
Dernovich gave his wife his very best “Don’t say it Marcia” look.
Marcia Dernovich caught the look immediately and shook it off like a veteran pitcher in a late-inning situation.
“Only a few times, Pullman. Last time he brought a lovely bean casserole.”
“You guys never…” Pullman started, and decided not to finish the sentence.
***
Photo by Charles Deluvio on Unsplash
So righteously hilarious - love it! The six word version of this story: He didn't realize he's the asshole.