I learned something very important yesterday at work. Actually, it was something I should have pieced together in my 10th grade history class when we were learning about Ireland’s history, but somehow I failed to piece it together. But before I tell the story of what happened I wish to explain myself.
Britain and that whole area of Europe has too many accents of the English language. Much like how a New Yorker will sound different from a Texan who would in turn sound different from a Cali Girl - this much is understandable. I really did try to understand the differences between the versions but since I’m not really there, I couldn’t get a real grasp of what I was reading on Wikipedia so I just began to label anything that sounded British to my ears British in my head. And its that logic that got me into trouble...
I was shadowing someone at work when he asked me about how my summer was going with the rest of the technicians. I said it was going fine and started to list the people I had grown particularly fond of. I got to a guy named Gary and had called him British where the person I was talking to stopped me and said that Gary was Irish. I, of course, flustered by my mistake was taken back and he continued to tell me that I should be careful since calling an Irish man British may open a can of worms I wouldn’t want to deal with. I agreed with him and left it alone, eager to change the topic.
A little later we had went upstairs to ask someone a question and just so happened to past by Gary’s sit. The person I was following went straight to Gary and started this:
Dude I was Shadowing: Hey Gary! This one here *points to me* said you were British.
Everyone else: *heads turn in eager anticipation to see the impending reaction. Sort of like animals sensing incoming bloodshed.*
Gary: *blank stare* You called my British? (amazing how he never sounded so Irish to me before that moment.)
Shadow Dude: Yea, hes lucky he didn’t say it to you in a bar...
Me: *thinks to myself* But I never did SAY it to him. YOU did.
Gary: *to me* So what should I do with him now?
The one black bystander: You should take off your belt and beat him!
Me: Hey! You’re suppose to be on MY side aren’t you?!?!
Gary: Alright then, bend over to receive your punishment.
Me: I’m SO sorry. *voice cracking and high pitched. eyes widening in fear*
Everyone else: *laughs uncontrollably*
Afterwords when we were heading back down, my “shadowee” turns to me and says in these words “Sorry, but I needed a laugh.”
That was just another case of intern abuse. It really does seem to be a serious epidemic in the American workforce. One that needs to be cured and my brothers - all who have suffered and tolled through it to come out the other side victorious, I am right there with you. Willing to fight the good fight if you are. Now whos with me? *insert overly enthusiastic battle cry*
By the way: A little later in the day I went back to Gary and started to tell my side of the story. He interrupts asking me: “Did you really think I was angry?”
I stopped, blinked a little and let out a relieve sigh. He laughed and we did a (terrorist) fist bump*. He then helped me change the top case on my Macbook, the first real repair I did all summer.
HA! Take that.
*Yes I did mange to put a political statement in all of this as well. Was it too soon? Or too late for that matter?