Diplomacy In Action

I was following my mother into the yard sale garage but make no mistake, I was looking as hard as she was. The owner must have thought I was just an escort and tried to engage me in conversation. Seriously? I had just noticed her vintage toys in the corner and she wanted to know about my college t-shirt? Yes, I went to that private Catholic liberal arts college. She continued by telling me about people she knew that attended. Any other time I’d feel blessed to have met her but at that moment I really didn’t care that her dentist’s son attended or that her nurse practitioner had graduated from there too. What year did you graduate? Seriously? She’s keeping my from picking AND wants to know my age? I told her I was a little older than her toys and crouched down to take a better look. She asked me if my college years had served me well. Yes, I loved them and the school had kick-started my career. I diplomatically added that it was also the reason I was in jeans picking for deals in her garage. She laughed at my response and gave me a bargain-and-a-half for all the Fisher Price in my arms. Make no mistake, my fellow alum always come through in a pinch .

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