I remember visiting my mom at work when I was seven and this other little boy Ernie, a bit younger than me, was also visiting that day. He had short, well-kept hair, a side part, he was filipino as well as seriously adorable. Someone in the elevator asked Ernie how old he was, and his response was “I’m a hundred years old!” He then folded his hands behind his back and beamed a perfect smile, causing an uproar of appreciate laughter in the elevator. I observed this whole scene and studied the joke, timing, body language, etc. Later that day, I got my shot. One of my mom’s co-workers asked how old I was and blurted out with complete excitement “YOU’RE A HUNDRED YEARS OLD!”
Silence.
Awkwardness.
For years, I would review, what had I done wrong? What had Ernie done differently? Was he just simply more adorable and earned his positive reaction from the smile alone? It was only later on that I remembered the work choice and I ended up insulting the adult instead of enhancing my own cuteness. So embarrassing.
As an adult, I still foul jokes by verbal missteps. With jokes, you have to be careful not only with word choice but timing, sometimes tone, etc. You can’t want to tell it too much.
I also remember from that visit to Mom’s work place someone had bought me a huge slice of chocolate cake from the cafeteria, and I politely refused it, ever mindful of limiting my sugar in-take since I was hearing about my weight ad nauseum from my mother. I was just sitting there drawing pictures of waitresses taking orders, but really, just thinking about that damn cake the entire time, until finally, when I thought no one was looking, I quietly lifted the cellophane and took a big bite. The guy who bought me the cake saw me and burst out into laughter. Busted.
So I did earn a huge laugh that day after all.