1950's?

The live in and I are helping out at the Aids Walk this Sunday. It’s a volunteer group based out of Wells Fargo, which is where the live in works. Last night we went to the mandatory volunteer training session (blah!) and we were asked to introduce ourselves to the group and explain where we worked. The organizer assumed everyone there worked for Wells Fargo and he was more or less asking them to say which part of the company they worked in. I do not work for Wells Fargo. So, I introduced myself as “Troy’s wife”. In other words, good bye self identity…hello 1950’s. What was I thinking with this answer? Plus, poor live in. I looked a wreck and he was looking his usual GQ self. I still had pieces of bun in my hair from the hamburger I just devoured. And I refused to take my coat off because “I didn’t want to stay long.” So, picture a really sloppy Eskimo with out of control hair, and you have your visual.

On the way out of the bank from our meeting there was a group of homeless people making camp for the night. One woman looked at me and with the most sincere voice said, “God bless you, you take care.” I am pretty sure she thought I was one of them (or would be soon). This didn’t offend me. She was nice. Then another guy yelled, “watch out for Chase”. And the live in laughed. It was funny.

On the way home I told the live in that the way I introduced myself was a poor life decision. He disagreed. I also told him I refused to wear the Wells Fargo Volunteer shirt they were threatening to make me wear. He disagreed with that too.