small talk faux pas

An unplanned event resulted in my frantic late arrival at the airport to fetch Ms. Kimmie at the baggage claim gate. We entertained the nearby police officer when I attempted to heft a rather sizeable hunk of luggage with the exclamation of “Jiminy Christmas Woman!” After some bar crawling (see
Kimmie’s blog for details, we ended at Cebar’s for a rousing gig by Abby Normal and the Detroit Lean. Our friend and the lighting engineer, Joe, introduced me to his friend Bob, who had (in Joe’s words) been recently “screwed over by his wife”. After some minimal chit-chat, the subject of the magazine arose and he was presented with a flier. He began to inquire, but the content was regarding our revenue streams. Giving him the abbreviated response, the conversation quickly shifted. Some time later, half an hour or more, he made further inquiries, again about our profit margin. On this ocassion I replied with a simple three word response, the one of which communicated my unwillingness to explore the topic further.

Seriously, I understand that publishing and editing an online music magazine, and auxillary podcast is an unusual occupation and I’m normally comfortable answering questions, but involving my finances? When did that become acceptable? How would he have felt if I had asked about his salary or how he justified his paycheck? How about his bank account balance?

Secondly, while I am enthusiastic about my businesses, it’s still my J.O.B. It doesn’t define me, it’s not my totality, and when I’m out with my girls, I’d really rather be conversing about that guy’s cute butt, that guy’s stanky pits, or how watered down the damn drinks are. I’m trying to relax, for pity’s sake.

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