Frequently Surprised

I'm not ignorant but I'm not smart either.

Someone will say, "Well, you know about those dudes, they're not too bright."

And really, I usually don't know that. I don't recognize imbecility unless you've missed your mouth and smooshed your ice cream cone into your forehead.

I don't expect stupidity and I don't look for it (except on some internet message boards, I guess, where it's malignant and then hilarious when some wise guy points it out).

Going out on a limb, I’ve always figured most people are of average intelligence.

A dull speechlessness and an apparent lack of interest in the world? I strike that up to depression or mental illness usually.

When my family had this Video/Pizza place in Sherwood Forest Shopping Centre, the pizzeria was run by its owner's younger brother, Chuck.

Chuck was my favorite of the pizzeria family. We worked together, watched movies (and ate pizza) on summer weekday afternoons while waiting for customers. (Thinking about this now, I'm about to change the subject of this little essay to "Rough Justice". I was working for free because I'd dropped out of college for the third time.)

Chuck would skip out somewhere and I'd watch after his side of the store.

I'd make frequent slips over to the bar next door, where I was somehow throwing 20 bulls-eyes in a row on their dart-board. (Zen miracle. I think I was having sex those days, had a girlfriend somehow). Chuck didn’t mind my absences. He was engrossed in Ferris Bueller's Day Off.

My folks upset me, talking about Chuck. They'd had some dealings with him while first opening the business, I guess, and something prompted them one evening to exclaim to me, Oh John, that Chuck is a little slow. The way he talks, when he talks, you can tell.

I went "huh? You mean Chuck? Chuck, Chuck?”

“Chuck, you mean? You don’t mean Chuck."

He's nice, they said, very nice, but he can't run things very well.

Dad said something about him not being able to sell insurance. That remark probably crossed my eyes a bit. Insurance... isn’t that complicated?

I started to argue but then blushed. If I couldn’t tell that Chuck was a mooncalf, a nit twit, a moron, this would mean I was slow too! Right? And I didn't want them to have to acknowledge that to themselves. Not after all these years of me being such a bright boy.

Then I thought, wait. They know me better than anyone, what’s the…

HEY!!

I smarted for about a decade.

Good old Chuck. He laughed at the right times during our movie marathons. Come to think of it though, he wanted to watch Ferris Bueller over and OVER.

But he seemed to get all the jokes! Not the Marx bros. movies, maybe. But I mean what more? Maybe he was into golf more than books, but that's not dumb, that's fun.

He was a nice guy!

And I bet he objected when his brothers all moved the pizzeria in the dead of night and left our struggling business stranded!

Oh.

This all comes to mind now because of something my new friend Doofus said this week, at work. Upper management had held a meeting about our concerns but they didn't invite us, or any of the principals apparently, and then they issued a memo that not only contradicted itself, but made our troubles worse.

Doof was philosophical about it, and even amused. (So was I, I guess, since I'm only playing a game anyway, trying to get less work for more pay, and more respect for less work.) (Yeah...Recovery.)

"You got to remember, John, look, these people here, they're not too bright are they. Now I just overheard your boxx talking to you, and ..."

I interrupted, "Yeah, what was he saying anyway? I couldn't get it together fast enough to understand. I was busy processing that he was actually speaking to me."

"He was saying that you're a bindery employee... in charge of returns. Not to forget that he's your boss, but don't bother him about returns. And don't take any action without telling him first."

"Oh."

"See?"

"OH !"

"Catching on?" Doofus laughed.

Actually, I wasn't. I need to take some things home and think.

"Don't make trouble drawing attention to problems. And what do you care anyway, right?"

"Well...I care when I'm here. Nothing else to care about..."

"Ha, ha. You remind me of myself two years ago. Actually, it was fun putting them on the spot but I got tired of it after awhile. Now I just make sure I get to spend at least 60% of my time out of the office."

I'm still disbelieving.

I don't know who's dumb, especially in a damn factory or a business.

I want to say "meh", but since I'm around some people who mystify and anger me, I'm not able to.

But if these people are "dumb"---if that’s the “answer”--- I still don't know how to deal, you know? Because how do you anticipate an imbecile?

Am I being flummoxed by knuckleheads? Maybe this is how parents come to their wits end with their kids.

And you know what? I’ve won chess games this way. My genius opponent will say “hm!” and think he’s got a challenger. My random, senseless moves are frightening. Dumbfounding. "What's next!! I withdraw!"

That's always funny. It's one of my favorite things I do.