On about the first few years of the nineteen nineties, I happened to be employed at my college town’s local newspaper the Davis Enterprise. I worked in the Circulation Department where my main responsibility was making sure that our thirty or forty middle school aged newspaper carriers received a paycheck every month. I balanced this full-time job with a full course load at UC Davis as well as a jam-packed social agenda that included Grateful Dead shows, band practices with my rock group Film at 11, and frequent visits to the botany lab.
Our department was populated by a half dozen twenty to twenty-five year olds so you could imagine that the work environment was fairly light-hearted and jovial most days of the week. For example, whenever there was occasion to fire a carrier for racking up too many customer complaints or for forgetting to do his route too many days in a row, those of us gathered in the office would sing the chorus of that song that goes, “Na na, na na na na, hey hey hey, good bye.” Now before you go and get all Judge Wapner on me, please keep in mind that we never sang that infectious little ditty in front of any kids and we were young, stupid, and extremely immature. But I must admit, it was pretty funny at the time. Maybe a bit mean, but funny.
Speaking of funny, have you ever heard of imposter colognes? You know, the kind that allegedly smells exactly the same as the real thing but for a fraction of the price? Well, back in the days before these scent merchants set up shop in your neighborhood mall, they had to go door-to-door in order to peddle their wares. One morning, this guy enters the office with a suitcase full of faux colognes and he is not taking no for an answer. This dude is beyond pushy and his act is getting more and more obnoxious with each passing minute.
Our quick-witted receptionist named Patrick offered up the following ultimatum to the pesky salesman: “If you have this one cologne I’m looking for, I’ll buy everything you’ve got. If you don’t have it, you’re outta here with nothing. Deal?”
“Deal!” was his response as he flipped open the latch on his suitcase the moment it landed on the three foot tall front desk countertop.
There was a pause that seemed to last for an hour but in reality was only about five seconds when the self-titled Phone Boy uttered these now classic words: “Do you have Eau Dah Dew Dah Day?”
The salesman didn’t even bother to look in his case. Knowing he had been bested, he quickly and quietly exited the building as those of us who remained are still laughing today.
The Adventures of ALS Boy 