Immune to My Charms

I've known since I was a small boy that I have the ability to charm people. I learned that it was my best tool in getting folks to do my bidding. I remember being about 8, and holding doors for my mother's friends, and giving up my seat at Catskill Mountain resorts. I was rewarded with their praise and coffee cake.

Since I, like most men are no more complex than a dog who learns "what works," I continued with this approach and refined it over the course of my life. I can say things to people that seem offensive, and yet get away with it using a twinkle of the eye, or a quick hand on an arm.

My close friends, particularly Dr. Barry, have observed this during my golden period --college. They love me, but also love when I fall flat on my face in the charm department. Barry still marvels at how I talked my way out of an expensive speeding ticket back in 1982, when I was doing about 75 mph down Ponce deLeon Boulevard, near UM. The cop wasn't even a woman!

Well, I may be losing my touch. Two weeks ago, when D1 was in the Delray Hospital ER, she was attended by a nurse who ooozed anger and resentment. She was about my age, and looked like she stepped out of "Real Housewives of New Jersey." She was short with us, and all of her patients. She must have mentioned 5 times how she's a single mother, and has a college aged daughter, and "does it all by herself." The chip on her shoulder must have caused scoliosis.

I set about with my usual bag of tricks --asking all about her life, praising her, telling her empathetically how wonderful nurses were, and how hard she must have worked to get her degree.

Nothing worked! She grew angry at the fact that Dr. Eric called the orthopedist in from his day off, and was continually annoyed that D1 was taking up space in "her" Department. No --this was a true Nurse Rached, and I wasn't getting her to change if I stood on my head.

Dr. Eric knew all about her. I told him how she told me 5 times she's a single mother. "Big surprise, huh?" was the brilliant doctor's perfect pitch observation.

Then, last evening, I found myself (who else would I find?) at Di Napoli, our local Italian joint, waiting on a takeout order for D2 and me. The promised 15 minute wait was becoming more like 30, and I found myself getting bored. When I get bored, like my father, my idle hands become the Devil's Workshop.

I noticed a pretty Mom and her teenaged daughter, also waiting for food. The Mom was a Gringa, and looked like a "Norma Rae" vintage Sally Field. She was going on and on to her daughter about how stressed she was, and how she had a million things to do, etc...

I overheard all of this while watching "Deal or No Deal" on the restaurant TV. Howie Mandel's easy way with people further inspired me. I decided I was going to innocently but flirtatiously brighten this stressed Mom's day.

The counter girl (a dead ringer for the overweight fast food manager who befriends Kevin Spacey in "American Beauty") called me to pick up the food. I turned to the teenager, and said "Excuse me, but you have a very pretty sister."

The woman glared. "I'm her MOTHER, not her SISTER!!!!!!!" She had rage in her voice and eyes.

I stammered a weak apology about my mistake, and for saying anything at all.

The other middle aged women, waitresses and other waiting customers, began to laugh. One said, in her Argentine/Spanish accent "Hermana -- he was giving you a complement!"

It was too late. She reacted as would a chunky non pregnant woman if asked when the baby was due. My charm had fallen flat.

On the drive home, I just kept thinking about how much Dr. Barry would have loved to witness that scene. "You just can't help yourself, can you?" would have been his question, through laughter.

Oh well. MAybe I'll change my cologne.