Hirpversation

When I worked at Lenscrafters (man, I miss that hook-up) they taught us about “courageous conversations” and I rolled my eyes. We were supposedly taught how to have conversations with employees, the conversations you just don’t want to have. Tom smells bad, you need to address his BO. Suzy comes back from lunch smelling of Jack, her eyes are glassy and she needs to hold on to the counter to stand still. Those are “courageous conversations.”

I don’t think I learned squat from the classes, which is really my M.O for learning. I either learn by someone else’s poor experiences (drugs, drinking and driving, being a shitty husband, white guy getting Thug Life tattooed on his beer belly) or by the grace of Google. But I never really learned how to have “courageous conversations.” For me, they typically involve a lot of stuttering, repeating the eloquent phrase “um” as often as Sarah Palin says “maverick” and generally sounding like a fool. More so then a typical Hirp-versation.

So last night, the time came for me to call up my buddy V. We’ve been friends since I was 17, and we had the worlds worst Geometry teacher. What did I get from that class? Well, I traded for Manny Ramierez, then traded him away, and got him back no less than three times. Same goes for Steve Karsay and Travis Fryman. I studied the Fab Five, and learned of the Hall of Famer to be, Todd Day. Dwight Gooden was 28, and Bret Saberhagen was a Met. Anthony Young won only 1 more Major League Baseball game than I did, even though he was in 39 more. And not once did that teacher try to tell us to stop. I’ve never been so disrespectful to a teacher, well, publicly anyway. We really bonded over the legendary Jim “Chris” Everett-Jim Rome throw down.

The following year we were on the newspaper staff together. Along with another guy, we were compared to the three Muppets that sat in the booth and made fun of everyone else. I wrote an NBA Preview (I really did call for the Knicks to play the Rockets in the Finals) and a plagiarism claim was falsely thrown my way years later. I didn’t write one story I didn’t want to. I should have, but that teacher sucked. Okay, maybe that was the most disrespectful I’ve ever been of a teacher.

“Red” was there on the sandy beach of Playa Del Car when the wife and I tied the knot. And recently he became engaged himself, and began to plan a wedding in St. Thomas. He asked me to stand up with him, a great honor, and one of the few times in our friendship we didn’t give each other shit. Really, when I announced that I was getting hitched he emailed me “Alright, let me be the first to say congratulations to then. You get one vagina for the rest of your life. Real smart Frank. Way to work it through.” Perhaps the most important result of our friendship, was him introducing me to The Sports Guy. That’s friendship.

So our conversation started as they normally do. We talked sports. Then I mentioned to him the big news, which I’m now putting on here for the first time, that the wife and I were getting a house. And sadly, this probably meant that we wouldn’t be able to attend his wedding. A fact that causes us great guilt and regret, we’d love to be there with them. I knew he wouldn’t be mad, at least outwardly. And he took the news in great stride, being as supportive as any real friend would be. Which probably adds to the guilt total, but so be it.

I guess I did it, finally had a successful “courageous conversation.” But it still sucked. I’d rather tell Jim that he was seen whackin’ it in the break-room while thumbing through the Sears catalog. And if we can some how get the scratch together, we’ll head for St. Thomas, and of course, heckle the hell out of V all the way down the aisle.