It happens to the best of us. Mouths move while brains chew on big ole’ wads of stale salt-water taffy.
At some point, I suspect a near saintly person like — for instance — Charlie Sheen, has had moments when his mouth moved without benefit of his brain.
It’s happened to well respected politicians.
Seriously.
If you had a name such as — oh, let’s say — Anthony Wiener, would you not confirm you were in direct message mode before tweeting a suggestive message with a picture of the body part matching your last name?
THE COMMOM BLOOPERS
Yes, I’ve blathered many of the common brain-to-mouth malfunctions:
- Laughed and said, “Who would name their kid Bertha?” and learned the woman behind me in the grocery line was named after her dear, departed grandmother, Bertha. God rest her soul. God shut my mouth.
- Shook hands with someone at a gathering, and said, “So pleased to finally meet you,” and been told “We met last month at the Higgenbotham’s reception.
- Regrouped with, “Why, of course we did! You’ve changed your hair since then, haven’t you?” And, been told “No. I’ve worn my hair this way for years.” Shut the front door! And, get a new ‘do. That one sucks.
- While conducting a training seminar in England, and during a discussion on sexual harassment, told the attendees (thankfully, all female) that back-in-the-day my then-boss pinched my fanny every time he passed. Why did they all turn beet red? Ask Nigel Blackwell. He’s British.
MY PERSONAL CORPORATE AMERICA BLOOPERS (A Sampler Package of Why they Don’t Miss Me)
Sampler #1
I have a horrid habit of picking up accents and imitating the person with whom I’m speaking. At a cocktail reception, a major client of mine approached. Let’s call him Ralph.
[Yes. Sincere apologies if your dear, departed grandpa was named Ralph. Mine were Ira and Oscar. Seriously. Go for it!]
Back to the blooper. Ralph had a slight stutter. I do not make fun of people who stutter. Ralph stood before me and said, “G-g-g-g-loria, how are you?” My response? “F-f-f-f-f-fine, Ralph, how are you?”
Slurp! More wine? Slurp!
My brain farted, okay? Speaking of brain farts…
Sampler #2
My department was once assembled in The Boardroom of the Fortune 500 company I worked for. Our mission? A casual chat with the freaking Chairman of the Board and CEO. No pressure. Just fifteen of us assembled around the polished table, tasked with telling him a bit about our careers.
During my rambling, I came to the bit when I left the company to venture into entrepreneurial waters. I thought I’d use clever phrasing to pretend I’d been foolish to leave his Chairmanshiplyness’s Company. I began with, “Then, in nineteen-blahdy-blah, I had a brain f…..er…burp, and…”
Did the lofty Chairman of the Board let that slide? Of course not! “You had a what?”
“Brain burp. I had a brain burp, and…”
Leave it alone, you old fart!
Sampler #3
I blame this one on a bad hair day, coupled with rushing around for signatures on a major sales transaction. I may have been wearing pantyhose with sandals. Who knows.
Winded, frantic, I hopped onto an elevator occupied by two people. I paid no attention to them, and reached to punch the button for the executive floor. Already lit. Great news. No delays en route.
Then, from behind, I heard a voice I recognized. It was Senator Phil Graham. A big shot, being escorted by our Governmental Affairs* Senior Vice President.
[Sadly, Governmental Affairs is not an oxymoronic word combination.]
I peeked behind me. Senator Graham reached to shake my hand, and said, “I’m Phil Graham.”
“Of course you are! Recognize name your voice welcome and oh, boy. Name. Gloria. My. Meet you nice. HA! HA! Listen me to.”
Please God, if you’re going to kill me in a freak elevator malfunction, now would be a great time. Please and thank-you.
I didn’t apologize for not voting for him. Small blessings.
THE JOKE I HAD TO FINISH
Back on scene at a projection meeting happy, happy hour(s) in our Hospitality Suite . Is it any wonder I’m a recovering alcoholic?
I worked in a largely male dominated industry. A fair-number of said dominate males congregated in a circle telling bawdy jokes. Loved them. I was tipsy nearly toppled, and began a joke. My brain didn’t cast its lure to the punch line, until I’d snagged the attention of all. The joke?
It goes something like this:
A man walks into a psych ward to visit his grandpa, and is escorted down a long hallway to his grandfather Ralph’s room. En route, they pass an open door. Ralph sees a patient swinging a tennis racquet with great enthusiasm. No ball. Just the racquet.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m practicing. I’m getting out of here soon and, when I do, I’m going to compete at Wimbledom.”
“Well, good luck to you.”
At the next door, he witnesses a patient swing a golf club, cuss up a storm, and bang his 9-iron on the floor.
“What’s wrong?”
“Just shanked the ball. I’m getting out of here soon, and when I do I’m competing in the Byron Nelson tournament.”
They arrive at Grandpa Ralph’s door. It’s closed. “Ruh-roh,” the man thinks. “What am I going to find here?”
Ruh-roh, I also think (Novel concept, that.). I brain-play the punch line. So does an exec in our division. I look at him. He raises his eyebrows. “I was wondering what you’d do when you got to this part. You started it. Finish the joke.”
ERK!
I cleaned it up as much as I could, but in essence…
The man opens the door to find his grandfather lying face up on the bed with a hard — you, know — male genital part, and a peanut balanced on the top.
“Gramps! What are you doing?”
“I’m *effing* nuts, and I’m never getting out of this place.
Jokes no more me tell. Slurrrrrrp!
WHEN A FRIEND’S BRAIN FARTS, TAKE NOTES
I have a friend who dates back more years than you have any business knowing.
[Yes. I can still count that high.]
She was a branch manager for a financial services company — our mutual employer. Back-in-the-day, we kept cards on all client names in Rolodex files–our then equivalent to a name search aide. Flipping through them was sometimes called flexing.
My friend (we’ll call her Bertha) answered the phone one busy morning. It was a competitor seeking a credit rating.
[Time out. Trust me. You’ll thank me. I have to replace one word in this story because it is the offensive, vulgar “C” word used to refer to female genitalia. Thank goodness for Jenny Hansen|More Cowbell and the letter Z in the A to Z challenge. The “C” word will hereinafter be changed to Zatch — a less offensive term for female genitalia.]
“Sure. The name?” Bertha says.
“Harry Zatch.”
It’s a busy, noisy day in a large office. Bertha’s Assistant Manager stands at the reception area near the Rolodex files, across the office.
“Ralph! Flex a Harry Zatch for me, will you?” Bertha shouts.
Ralph gives her one of those you-have-got-to-be-kidding-me looks. The office goes silent. Including the customers.
“Oh, wait!” Bertha clicks back on the line. “Is that spelled with a “Z” or a K?”
“Z. Z-A-T-C-H.”
“Ralph! It’s spelled with a “Z”. Look up a Harry Zatch. Z-A-T-C-H.”
Ralph goes through the motions. “No Zatch here.”
“That’s a no record.” Bertha tells the caller.
“Oh, come on. All women have Harry Zatch’s!”
Click.
“You guys, I think I just got an obscene phone call.”
Ya’ think?
YOUR TURN!
Those are my corporate America bloopers. Trust me. I have more from my the days before, during, and after. There may or may not be a sequel. Tell us about your (or, your soon-to-be-former friend’s) bloopers, aka Brain F….er…burps. Don’t be shy. You know how I L-O-V-E to play in comments. Don’t let me down. When you do comment, provide the pseudonym you’d prefer when I repeat your story ad infinitum. Dibs on Ralph, Bertha, Oscar and Ira.
HUMOR WHEN IT COUNTS
Susie Lindau (Wild Ride), bloggess extraordinaire, chronicles her journey with breast cancer. In this second installment of her Boob Report, Susie demonstrates her humor, courage, and (bonus!) a blooper in public while dining with Kristen Lamb and Piper Bayard. Visit. If you don’t already follow her, you’re missing tons of adventures through her eyes and camera lens. She brings humor to the table during a difficult time. Hugs and prayers, Susie!
Gloria Richard 
A Brit co-worker had a line that would suit me most splendidly: ‘Sometimes I only take my foot out of my mouth long enough to stick the other foot in.’
Killing me with that joke.
Gee, I couldn’t think of a single embarrassing moment I wanted to share yesterday when you asked for fodder to add to this very public post, and gosh-golly-gee, can’t think of any now.
Or, I can think of plenty and choose not to share. You decide.
Please send contact Intel for anyone who’s been around you for any length of time.
My mind churns. I know you’ve bloopered in my presence, I just don’t have them on instant recall. I will ponder and advise.
Trust me.
I’ll be back.
Ohmygod you’re hysterical! I’m lucky I didn’t have hot coffee anywhere near me or we’d have had a problem! You are too funny! I love the elevator scene. And Donna told me what a fanny was. Bah hahahahaha
OMG, Jess. The elevator scene? I still cringe when I think about it. I kept trying to make things better, but the words scrambled en route from my brain to my mouth.
I never had to face Phil Graham again. The Senior V.P. of governmental affairs? Daily.
My adrenaline went up. My ability to communicate plunged.
You almost got some ping-back love on the story about my friend. My original text said we’d been friends longer that Jess Witkins has walked the face of this earth. I thought better of it when I put it in the larger context of the whole story.
You’re welcome.
😛 LOL
Oh, I thought I was the only one possessing the knack (pesky habit) of picking up any accent so long as it’s been spoken in my presence. Gloria, I had the same awful encounter with a stutterer . . . I was actually dating him! And once, during an argument, he stuttered something angrily at me, and I responded in like. It came out of left field and I was horrified. Sometimes I wish Mouth was mandated to seek Brain’s permission before speaking.
Thank you for this reminder that, while brain-flatulence can be both smelly and harmful, we are ALL guilty of this crime, one time or another.
Blessings,
~ Cara
Finally! Someone else who has committed the horrid blooper of unintentionally imitating a stutter.
Hmmm. I wonder if brain flatulence would have gone over better with the CEO than burp.
Nah. I was SO screwed once brain came from my mouth.
Should you discover an invention or meditation that changes behavior to brain first, pause, speak, I would be a willing and qualified volunteer for clinical trials.
Duly noted!
Hehehe! I actually knew what a fanny meant in British…LMAO! As for corporate world blunders? Geez…there are so many I’m having difficulty narrowing it down to one.
Well, narrow it down, Kitt!
Come on back and share at least one. There may be a prize for the best.
Or, not. 😉
Prize or no prize, I’ll come back. Let me just ponder my many faux pas for a while. 😉
There was the time I was preparing for a major presentation in front of our area director along with my direct boss and a couple of peers.
The room we were working in was across from the HR Director’s office… As we were getting closer to “go” time I began to get nervous. I told the room “I’m totally tweaking out right now.”
They were both entertained and appalled and sneaking glances at HR, hoping the door wouldn’t open and advised me I should probably not say those words so close to that office.
At my blank look, they elaborated that “tweaking out” was a drug related term. Goody Two Shoes me had no idea. Where I grew up it was used in context of spazzing out.
I knew I could count on you, Kitt. I used “tweaking out” in the same context you did.
Love when we get stumped by colloquialisms. I use “we” because I’m a Yankee living in Texas.
Wouldn’t it have been fun to be in a financial position where you could have looked at them wide-eye and innocent, and said, “And, your point is…?”, or “And, you know this how….?”
No?
There are so many times I’ve looked back on my career and thought, “Jeepers. If only I’d won the lottery and waited until juuuuuuuust the right moment.”
But, then, I’m sneaky that way. And, my college days stripped me of my innocence. Unlike President Clinton, I did inhale back-in-the-day, and I did enjoy it. 😉
I’m all better now. Except for that goody-two-shoes thing.
It would definitely be awesome to do something like that deliberately.
As for goody two shoes…that only applies to drugs. 😉
It’s too late, Gloria. Spilled the coffee all over the new rug two hours ago. Now my office smells like rug shampoo. I am one of those who prefers BodyOdor to perfume so I sit here with an itchy nose remembering all the bloopers in my life. And this clutz had plenty. Will I share one? Maybe … Okay … I have this teensy-weensy problem with spelling. In other words I can’t spell. Pheonetic at best. And while my boss was at a mid-western conference I thought I’d surprise him by getting his quarterly done. Oh yes it got done. I worked so hard for two days. I did the thing-gy with the blue liquid stuff … Oh … mimio … and sent it to all sales divisions and the executive floor.
And a red faced man from personnel informed me that I was the only employee he ever knew who could mis-spell herself out of a job 🙂
And I still can’t spell worth a dam (hee ) 🙂
LOL, Florence. Gaaah! What did we do before the advent of MS Word red squiggly lines?
Oh. Right. We were supposed to learn how to spell in school. My excuse is creative daydreaming.
Yours??
[And — er — isn’t “dam” in that context supposed to have an “n” on the end of it? Just sayin…]
Don’t tell me you missed my tongue in cheek or foot in mouth? er … yeah it’s supposed to have and “n” 🙂
Ah, I needed a good laugh during this crappy work day. Many times people, including myself, have spoken while the brain is outside having a cigarette. Open mouth. Insert foot. Repeat.
KA-SNORT on your brain being outside having a smoke.
Now, if we lived and worked in Colorado…
Just sayin…
How much worse could THAT be?
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I’ll be over to visit you in the a.m., Kitt. Thanks for the ping love.
Thanks for the blog shout out and support Gloria! You are the bestest!
I have a tendency to get loud when I am enthusiastic and when describing my “climax,” well, you obviously got my drift!!!! Hahaha!
I’m still pinging love off your star, Susie.
Hope all is well. Now, go rest.
Hope those wild fires aren’t threatening your home. The forests? The animals? Makes my heart ache.