I'm Dumb

I have a colleague at Benevolent Dictators, Inc. with whom I have one of those jokey, elbow-in-the-ribs kind of relationships. You know the type; lots of sarcasm and insults that aren't really insults. He makes fun of my gray hair, I tell him how happy I am that I'll never be bald (he will be).

This morning I mentioned my upcoming trip to Mordor—I mean Disneyworld—and he said he wants a full report upon my return. He's a divorced dad with an adorable 9-year old daughter who lives in New Jersey. He lives in the city with New Younger Mommy. He said that he’s been thinking about taking his daughter to Disneyworld for quite some time and feels like a bad dad that he hasn't done so yet. My clever retort was, "Well, you can go ahead and take her, but you'll still be a terrible father." The color drained from his face and his eyes reddened and welled-up with tears. I went drilling and hit a nerve. I didn't mean to. We had a few uncomfortable moments and recovered. Things are fine between us but, shit, I need to watch what I say. Actually, that's a reoccurring theme throughout my life. I've been fired from jobs because of how clever and witty I can be sometimes.