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One big goal I have with this newsletter is that we just have fun. It’s the entire point of this thing: Sobriety is a blast for me when I do the work. So occasionally I am just going to dial up a funny story that has some sober ingredients but is mostly just to make you laugh.
This one features irritation, impulsivity, some fight-or-flight behavior and the idea of walking around with your fists balled up. Not a great idea.
Here goes…
In the middle of the pandemic, I was at my wit’s end at home. The kids were scrapping with each other, my wife was frustrated with them, work was piling up… it was just too much, for everybody involved. Nothing terrible. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just too many people in close quarters for too long.
So I went to the grocery store for a few things we didn’t need that much. I just wanted some space, more than we were out of chocolate milk or shredded cheese.
This was early on in the pandemic so everybody was masked, and the weather was nice enough that I was in jeans and a Penn State football T-shirt. As I grabbed a cart, a guy made eye contact with me and said, “Hey, wiener.”
The guy called me a wiener.
Wiener? What was this guy’s problem? I thought. And what kind of insult is wiener, anyway? I’m not a wiener—he’s the wiener!
I was already coming in hot at the store, so I was incredibly irritated that some rando had the audacity to call me a wiener. I must have had a pretty ugly look on the top half of my masked face, too, because the guy kind of back pedaled and stayed away from me as I entered the store.
I was in there for maybe 30 minutes. I spent the first five plotting out how the wiener man was going to get dropped in the crouton aisle. Then I spent the next 10 minutes or so rolling through everything you guys have taught me in recovery.
“Somebody else’s opinion of me is none of my business.”
“Hurt people hurt people.”
“Any time I am disturbed, there is something wrong with me.”
By the time I got to the frozen vegetables for the final 10 minutes of my trip, I was already laughing about the out-of-nowhere wiener name-bomber. That’s one of the coolest things recovery has taught me—how to convert a bad feeling into a chuckle. Sometimes I’m able to process a white-hot burning resentment into a good belly laugh with one phone call to a sober friend.
That’s what happened here. I checked out and headed for the parking lot, already relishing the call I was going to make on the way home to one of my sober network friends. I love moments like that because it is a great opportunity to check in, call myself out on any b******t, and immediately clear out that space in my head.
I put my cart back, took off my mask and walked to my car. And there, 20 feet away, was the wiener man again. This time he had his mask off and he had a strange look on his face as he made eye contact again. I’d describe the look as… something like a pleading facial expression to clear up our beef?
With his lips exposed, I had a much better understanding of what he said next: “We are.”
I looked down at my T-shirt, saw the Penn State logo and realized he hadn’t called me a wiener. He’d actually said the universal exchange that happens between Penn State fans. One says, “We are,” and the other replies, “Penn State.”
I couldn’t help but laugh and say, “Penn State,” with a sigh of relief and embarrassment. I felt like… a huge wiener.
ALCOHOLIC/ADDICT JOKE OF THE DAY
This newsletter is a place of joy and laughter about the deadly serious business of sobriety. So, as I will often do, let me close with a joke.
The patient was lying in bed, still groggy from the effects of the recent operation. His doctor came in, looking very glum.
“I can’t be sure what’s wrong with you,” the doctor said. “I think it’s the drinking.”
“All right,” said the patient. “Can we get an opinion from a doctor who’s sober?”
(Credit: AA Grapevine, March 2000, Matt W.)
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