How old is she Teddy?

Many years ago I had to train 4 ladies in a new accounting department. We all worked for a new business located in the Triad area of North Carolina.

We had just setup Great Plains Dynamics and the ladies were responsible for all of the AR, AP, PR and GL work for this small business.

The ladies were nice and fun to work with. They did their job well and learned quickly. This made for a really good working relationship and I soon let myself get pulled into the many conversations that went on in the accounting office.

One day three of the ladies were talking about the age of people in business. They began stating their own ages to each other.

This is when I got myself in trouble.

One of the ladies in the room asked me, “Teddy, how old do you think Greta is?”

Picture this as you imagine why I made the guess I made.

Greta came to work every day wearing business professional clothing, even suits. I don’t think I ever saw her in blue jeans or t-shirts.

Greta alway wore  makeup and her hair was always “done  up”. (what ever that means)

So, in my infinite wisdom I decided to reply, “There is no way Greta is 35 yet.”

Wow, you would have thought I shot her.

Greta ran out of the room crying. She ran straight over to the HR manager, slammed the door shut and commenced to  bawl her eyes out. I could hear the HR manager asking her, “What’s wrong? Who did this to you?”

I turned to the other ladies in the room who all looked stunned at what had just happened. I asked, “What did I say wrong?”

One of the ladies answered the question with just four words, “She’s only 18 Teddy.”

OUCH – I guess she thought “not yet 35” is really old.

I got counseled by the HR department to be careful what I say to the employees. I promised not to guess employee ages ever again.

Greta eventually forgave me for insulting her. I wanted to tell her she looked really good for 18, but fortunately a better wave of wisdom convinced me not to do that.

And, most importantly, I learned a really important lesson. Regardless of any situation, never, I repeat, NEVER guess a woman’s age. It’s best to just say, “I have no idea.” And, don’t ask them to tell you either. Neither actions are wise to do.

Men’s age as determined by a trip to Home Depot

A good friend of mine from Pilot Mountain sent this to me and I fee obliged to share it with you.

You are in the middle of a project around the house, mowing the lawn, putting in a new fence, painting the living room, or whatever. You are hot and sweaty, covered in dirt or paint. You have your old work clothes on. You know the outfit – shorts with the hole in the crotch, old T-shirt with a stain from who knows what, and an old pair of tennis shoes.

Right in the middle of this great home improvement project you realize you need to run to Home Depot to get something to help complete the job.

Depending on your age you might do the following:

In your 20’s:

Stop what you are doing. Shave, take a shower, blow dry your hair, brush your teeth, floss, and put on clean clothes. Check yourself in themirror and flex. Add a dab of your favorite cologne because you never know, you just might meet some hot chick while standing in the checkoutlane. And you went to school with the pretty girl running the register.

In your 30’s:

Stop what you are doing, put on clean shorts and shirt.. Change shoes. You married the hot chick so no need for much else. Wash your handsand comb your hair. Check yourself in the mirror. Still got it! Add a shot of your favorite cologne to cover the smell. The cute girl running the register is the kid sister to someone you went to school with.

In your 40’s:

Stop what you are doing. Put on a sweatshirt that is long enough to cover the hole in the crotch of your shorts. Put on different shoes and ahat. Wash your hands. Your bottle of Brute Cologne is almost empty so you don’t want to waste any of it on a trip to Home Depot. Check yourself in the mirror and do more sucking in than flexing. The spicy young thing running the register is your daughter’s age and you feel weird thinking she is spicy.

In your 50’s:

Stop what you are doing. Put a hat on; wipe the dirt off your hands onto your shirt. Change shoes because you don’t want to get dog doo-doo in your new sports car. Check yourself in the mirror and you swear not to wear that shirt anymore because it makes you look fat. The Cutie running the register smiles when she sees you coming and you think you still have it. Then you remember the hat you have on is from Buddy’s Bait & Beer Bar and it says, ‘I Got Worms’

In your 60’s:

Stop what you are doing. No need for a hat anymore. Hose the dog doo-doo off your shoes. The mirror was shattered when you were in your50’s. You hope you have underwear on so nothing hangs out the hole in your pants. The girl running the register may be cute, but you don’t have your glasses on so you are not sure.

In your 70’s:

Stop what you are doing. Wait to go to Home Depot until the drug store has your prescriptions ready, too. Don’t even notice the dog doo-doo on your shoes. The young thing at the register smiles at you because you remind her of her grandfather.

In your 80’s:

Stop what you are doing. Start again. Then stop again. Now you remember you needed to go to Home Depot. Go to Wal-Mart instead and wander around trying to think what it is you are looking for. Fart out loud and you think someone called out your name. You went to school with the old lady who greeted you at the front door.

In your 90’s & beyond:

What’s a home deep hoe? Something for my garden? Where am I? Who am I? Why am I reading this? Did I send it? Did you? Who farted?