I laughed more today than I have in quite some time.
One of our merchandisers, from Belgium, has been in town teaching us all the good stuff. Most of my colleagues are from other countries, speak multiple languages, and are perplexed at times by their Texan colleague referencing beating a dead horse, duck on a June bug, I saved your bacon, straining gnats and swallowing camels, not my first rodeo, so forth and so on to infinity and beyond.
Today I told my beautiful Belgium friend, “I will be in the back eating lunch. If our clients come in just holler.”
Mind you, she’s elegant as heck. Worked for Cartier for years, speaks eloquently at all times (French, Italian, Flemish, and English all in one day) and asks me, sounding quite crass I might add, “What is zis new word I must learn, holler?”
I laughed out loud.
Stop it.
She said it like something from Oh Brother Where Art Thou.
Like down in the holler where the green grass grows.
I’m still laughing.
Oh dear Lord please tell me I don’t sound like that.
I ask her between laughing and trying to catch my breath how she would say what I thought I clearly communicated.
“You would say call me?”
“Yes,” she answered. “What are zees other words I need to learn?” (Spoken with dignity in her beautiful accent.)
Oh. My. Gosh.
I die laughing.
No dear one, no new words for you. I need to be more like you and use proper wordage.
Holler means yell basically so no, don’t yell, just come get me.
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