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To be filed under fond memories of encounters in the office parking garage…
So I’m strolling from my car to the elevator lobby this morning when I bump into Jeff, a guy who works out at the gym most Thursday mornings. He, like myself, has his hands full. Balancing a change of clothes, a gym bag, a briefcase and…apparently, a handful of cucumbers. He turns to me and asks, “hey, would you like some cucumbers”?
Man, if I had a nickel for every time I heard that in a parking garage at 7am.
I did take him up on his offer of farm-fresh produce. It definitely made for some odd looks when I strolled into the gym, three cukes in hand, and made for the locker room. The personal trainer, Andy, got quite a kick out of it. I’m sure Jeff took some ribbing after I left the gym as well.
The gym is a den of testosterone. Unlike my office which is a giant bowl of estrogen. I much prefer the company of men, much like I enjoy a good cucumber.
