Am I losing my touch?
I came in to work this morning and saw that Shannon, the HR lady, was sitting at the reception desk. We exchanged greetings.
"Hi, Bryan, how are you?"
"Pretty good," I replied. "How are you?"
"I'm good," she said, rolling her eyes back up into her head and kinda slumping down in her chair exhaustedly. I took this to mean she was being ironic.
In the most sarcastic tone I could muster, I said, "Yeah, you look good!"
"Oh, thank you!" she said, her eyes lighting up.
I think she might have taken me literally. I don't know. Either she missed my sarcasm, or I missed hers, and either way, it could mean I'm losing my touch. Am I no longer the cynical bastard I used to be? There's a scary thought.
"Hi, Bryan, how are you?"
"Pretty good," I replied. "How are you?"
"I'm good," she said, rolling her eyes back up into her head and kinda slumping down in her chair exhaustedly. I took this to mean she was being ironic.
In the most sarcastic tone I could muster, I said, "Yeah, you look good!"
"Oh, thank you!" she said, her eyes lighting up.
I think she might have taken me literally. I don't know. Either she missed my sarcasm, or I missed hers, and either way, it could mean I'm losing my touch. Am I no longer the cynical bastard I used to be? There's a scary thought.