I was halfway through a meeting with a photocopy salesman, when he suddenly mentioned his wife and children, and how content and happy he was.
I was puzzled, but let him continue. It was only when I glanced down that I understood his reason for imparting this personal information. The table leg against which I had been rubbing my itchy foot wasn’t a table leg at all.
I’m at the library, and for some reason, when I plug my flash drive into the computer, it doesn’t show up. I keep trying, but nothing happens.
As an IT major, I know I can figure this out. So I spend 15 minutes changing settings and inserting and removing the flash drive.
Then a girl sitting next to me taps my shoulder and says, “You’re plugging into my computer, not yours.”
Each year our company holds a training session in the conference room of the same hotel. When we were told we would not be able to reserve our usual location, my secretary, Gail, spent many hours on the phone trying to work out alternative arrangements.
Finally, when the details were ironed out, she burst into my office. "Great news, Scott!" she announced. "We’re getting our regular room at the hotel!"
All eyes were on Gail and me as she suddenly realized she had interrupted a meeting with co-workers.