This is a fictional account of a person called The Errand Boy. He was a poorly educated but somewhat street savvy Joe with a chip on his shoulder and a carton a day smoking habit. The Errand Boy knew a million stories and they were always better than whatever it was you told.
If you talked about a favorite childhood memory you could be sure that The Errand Boy had a better story than yours. If you talked about places you had seen you could be sure that he would add his own two cents. He hadn’t traveled all that much or lived in all that many places, but that didn’t stop The Errand Boy from telling you about how much better his experience was.
And heaven forbid the conversation turned to women. The Errand Boy knew more and had had more women than Hugh Hefner, Casanova or any Don Juan. In his mind he was truly legendary. He didn’t dream about dating Playboy Bunnies because he had done that. He didn’t wonder what it was like to date strippers because he had done that. Orgies, twins, best friends, mother/daughter, whatever…It just didn’t matter because The Errand Boy had a better story than you did. All you had to do was ask him.
The Errand Boy was good in a bar. Give him a smoke and a beer and he was much happier because that really was his speed. He loved to tell jokes and believe me, no one laughs harder at their own jokes than The Errand Boy.
There are many tales that could be told about The Errand Boy but few would give you as much insight into his character as this one.
One day The Errand Boy went to a small cafe and ordered a couple of slices of pizza. The Errand Boy sat outside and enjoyed a very plesant meal at a small table. As he finished eating he took a napkin and wiped a small patch of grease off of his chin and then stood up. He took a moment to primp himself and then turned around to march off.
As he turned he made a point of avoiding the trashcan that had been conveniently placed nearby so that the diners could dispose of their trash. Some people would think that this would have reminded him to pick up his own trash, but not The Errand Boy. Oh no, that is not his style.
Instead he stepped around the trash can and began to walk away. As he did an employee of the cafe ran outside and yelled out “what about my tip” but what he was really saying was “why can’t you clean up after yourself.”
The Errand Boy had a smart response to his plaintive cry and said “here is your tip, don’t buy Enron.”
And now you know a little bit more than you probably care to know about The Errand Boy.
BFC,
Trust me, you don’t want to be The Errand Boy.
RCJ,
Glad that you enjoyed it.
Houston,
You are a smart man to avoid these kinds of people. Nothing good comes from an association with them.
I purged that part of my personality when I was about 14. When I encounter people who have perfected the Errand Boy part of their personality, I run. Do I run because they’re boorish, or do I run because it reminds me of a phase I went through in my adolescence? Could be either. Could be both.
And I thought you were going to blog about the Jerry Lewis movie, The Errand Boy! Liked your story as well, Jack!
Well, I admire the savey swagger of the Errand Boy. I wish we would have had that tip, to be candid.