Mistaken Identity

This morning Pat and I had had a few quick conversations by cell phone, coordinating things, all business. I’m going on a trip for a week, and so there are details, reminders.

Wanting to shift gears, be gracious and supportive, he phoned again.

“Hey, you know, I was thinking. Why don’t you take a little time and go and get something new done to your hair? You know, something special, to make you feel good. You and Emily could go. Now I don’t mean get it cut as short as hers, but just something a little different, to go with your trip.”

He rambled on, a lighthearted, enthusiastic conversation in contrast to the earlier ones that were all work and no play.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t talking to me.

“Well, Pat….. thank you, but I already have a hair appointment scheduled for next week.”

He had mistakenly called one of his customers, Margo, who must have been totally confused and caught off-guard. It’s one thing to make paint color suggestions, but advice on personal appearance?

I guess she, who is from Argentina, chalked it up to him being just another brash American.