Hi…I’m back. I think. Hopefully. Going to try the once a week posting schedule again. I guess I’ll see how well I can keep it up. I guess? Anyway, here’s a story about how I don’t exist.
A-pusher was sneak promoted recently at work. I say sneak promoted because THEM, at least in the LA area, has this thing about not telling people they’re going to be promoted beforehand and also not working out any of the details that go along with a promotion and just surprising them with some kind of promotion celebration. Normally a dinner at a restaurant. It’s supposed to be this big secret…but people here aren’t that subtle or good at keeping secrets.
So…this happened to A-pusher recently and she found out about all of this. Because she found out about it, we were able to talk openly about how dumb sneak promotions are and how we didn’t like these celebratory dinner things. As it turns out, A-pusher’s family isn’t huge on these sneak celebratory dinners either and they told A-pusher that at least they finally get to meet this “[Moose]” A-pushers speaks of.
You see, A-pusher and I have fairly similar interests. We both like to cook, bake, sew, craft, etc etc. We’re both trained electrical engineers. We’re both pretty good controls engineers. So we sometimes end up in each other’s conversations with other people. In A-pusher’s case, conversation often has to do a lot with food. And A-pusher’s family were supposedly finally going to be able to put a face to my name.
Because I didn’t go. Psh, you didn’t think I’d attend such a social event, did you? Because I didn’t.
However, I did find out beforehand that A-pusher’s family wanted to meet me, so I worked it out beforehand with a few of our coworkers that they would introduce themselves as…themselves, but then also as me. Like…”Hi, I’m [Pengy]. Also, I’m [Moose].” This concept and the accompanying mental image of all of this playing out was vastly amusing to me.
I checked in with A-pusher and some of our coworkers the next day and the result was we have all decided that I’m A-pusher’s imaginary friend. It turns out that pretty unknowingly played into the game by recounting a story of lemon tarts. I guess pretty has the same imaginary friend as A-pusher.
Perhaps you’re wondering why no one showed A-pusher’s family a photo of me. Duh, because none exist. This was bewildering to A-pusher’s sister. She apparently demanded why no one had a picture of me. I guess the general excuse was that no one would dare try to take a photo of me. 👍
But I quite like this idea that I’m the imaginary friend. I am SO. AMUSED. by this idea. I’m not entirely sure why. I wonder if this is a newfound super power: the ability to become someone’s imaginary friend. I will have the think about this.