Hubby's supervisor called me on my cell phone yesterday on the way to school to talk about Hubby's upcoming retirement.
His first words were, "_____ gave me your number. I didn't know how else to get in touch with you."
Seriously? Like you've already forgotten that your son went to our school just last year? And we had meeting after meeting about him until he gave up and dropped out to get his GED? Remember, we had a conversation about him in the parking lot at the Pepsi plant? And our school actually has a telephone.
Huh. I'm so forgettable.
[I often sing "I'm forgettable...." to Natalie Cole and Nat King Cole's tune of "Unforgettable."]
Anyway, he said not to mention any of this to Hubby. But he called him to get my phone number.
[Shakes head rapidly]
I've been charged with coming up with some "stuff" for them to say about Hubby on the night of the retirement shindig. One thing that works in our favor is that they are combining it with the employee Christmas gathering, and Hubby won't be the center of attention. Much. He hates being the center of attention, except when he's been drinking (can I say that in our county?), when he LOVES being the center of attention.
I was trying to think of some things this morning, and I got all emotional just driving to school. How do you say something sweet without being sappy? I'm trying to think of a way to include some of the private jokes that are just between Hubby and me. Like Popeye cartoons. I can't explain that one, since this is a family blog site, but Hubby will know.
They know that he loves golf, gambling, motorcycles, and the Georgia Bulldogs. That he was a produce manager in the grocery business for 23 years [guess who picks out the veggies when we go grocery shopping?] before working for Pepsi for the last 16 years.
I could tell them that he will be a walking Pepsi advertisement for the rest of his life, because they have kept us well-stocked in Pepsi t-shirts. Lord knows they believe in handing out those t-shirts, as if we won't notice that pay raises aren't included. And Hubby never, ever gets rid of anything. The 1969 Ford pickup truck that lives in our basement (he bought it brand-new) and the 1971 Honda motorcycle that lives in our basement (ditto), neither of which he drives/rides, are testament that he holds onto things forever. We have approximately 856.5 golf clubs in the basement (he breaks them sometimes -- that's where the .5 comes in). We also have a kitchen faucet that he replaced because we didn't like it, but apparently one of us liked it well enough to hang onto it. It's in the basement. And I wonder why I don't have any storage space. There are approximately 6 bowling balls down there, each with its own specific purpose. Need I mention that Hubby doesn't bowl anymore?
I could tell them that Hubby has kept almost every Pepsi memento, from matchbox cars to clocks to baseballs, absolutely convinced they will be collectors' items someday. So what if they are? He would never part with them ANYWAY. If they were worth a million dollars, he would hold onto them, waiting for them to go to two million.
Maybe I'll think of some more things before the big day. They just better not ask me to speak. I am absolutely positive I can't handle that.