On the lighter side – reminiscing –
Coining a phrase here: Guacamole Problem. A guacamole problem is where you think you’re up against a serious or challenging obstacle, but it turns out not to be much of a challenge and you end up feeling foolish for having taken it so seriously. A Guacamole Problem is not worth winning, or at least not worth investing any worry in.
Origin: once in my callow youth, there was a girl. Keeping this sub-novel length, she liked me, I sort of liked her – and this other guy, a nice guy, really liked her. I was (and, to a lesser extent, still am) socially pretty clueless, so I was picking up on none of this.
Well, we were part of a chambers singer group, so what with rehearsals and travel and such, hung out together a lot. Dude B was trying to get attention from the girl, who paid attention to me – that I hardly noticed. The subject of guacamole comes up, and he says: I make great guacamole. I say: so do I! So we agree to each make guacamole and bring it to the next get together.
Well, as a Southern Californian and amatuer cook, I take my guacamole seriously: fresh minced garlic, fresh squeezed limes, finely chopped red onions, Mexican (has to be mexican!) oregano, New Mexican ground red Hatch chile powder – you get the drift. I make damn fine guacamole.
So I make a nice big bowl, eager to see what Dude B has to bring. But I had no dog in the fight – I was not desperate for the girl’s attention (I sort of had it anyway more or less by accident), nor did I need validation that my guac rocked. Dude B, on the other hand, really wanted the girl’s attention, really needed validation – and, sadly, made totally pedestrian guacamole.
So, I “won”, without really knowing what I’d won. Dude B was crushed – he was taking this all very seriously, but he felt compelled – he really was a nice guy – to tell me how very much better my guacamole was. As the reality of the situation slowly entered my dull and dense mind, I just felt bad for him. He hadn’t lost a dumb food contest – in his mind, he’d gone a long way toward losing the girl I didn’t really even want! (On a side note, I gotta admit that most any girl worth having would have to prefer the guy who makes the better guacamole, other things being close to equal. There is that.)
Second, we are going out in a moment on a company team building exercise. It will involve opportunities to bowl and shoot pool, among other teamy things. My knees are not up to much bowling, although I do enjoy it. BUT: back in the day – WAY back in the day, I was pretty good at pool.
At St. John’s, as a freshman I got a dorm room that shared a wall with the Upper Common Room (meaning: not much sleep if there were a party) and upstairs from a pool table. Did I mention I’m a terrible student? One of the ways that manifested was that I spent a lot more time shooting pool than, say, studying Greek. (I was 18 and possibly stupider than most – it got a little better over time.)
So, I started gettin good. In the second semester, somebody put together an 8-ball tournament, singles and doubles. Well, Wes, a sophomore, was the only guy in the school I couldn’t regularly beat, couple other guys were about my level, and everybody else had to get lucky to beat me. So, I lose the singles to Wes – but he got cocky, and got his girlfriend to be his doubles partner.
I recruited a dude for my partner who was a fidgety mess – unless he was stoned. Stoned, he shot pretty good pool.
Well, he showed up for the finals stoned. Wes played brilliantly, and, had he picked a decent partner, would have most likely beat us. But his partner – a lovely young woman, and, you know, OK at pool, wasn’t good enough. It was a pure defensive battle – no leaves. But the girl wasn’t good enough to not leave me and my partner some shots – and, every time she did, we’d just kill ’em.
It was close. Wes was really good, and my partner was really stoned – but we won! The prize was dinner at a local restaurant.
Due to transportation issues, the winners decided to go together. So, Wes, a sophomore, of course takes his girlfriend with his singles champion prize. I end up with a date with a stoner sophomore dude – who had money, back then, to do a dinner date? Not me or him.
It was weird. Food was good, though.
Anyway, I have to go easy on the bowling for my knees’ sake, and I have to go easy on the pool for my ego’s sake, since I’ve hardly shot since – had to go cold turkey or they’d have thrown me out of school eventually. I get rusty fast if I’m not shooting all the time.
Hope your day is going well!