One Leg At A Time
Carl was sitting at lunch with a few co-workers. He was new to the group and wasn’t really sure how to break into the conversation. So he sat there, ate his lunch, and just listened.
After a bit, there was a pause; Carl took the opportunity to jump in.
“Hey—why do people say ‘I put my pants on one leg at a time’ as a way of saying they’re just like us? I mean, who DOESN’T put their pants on one leg at a time, right? It’d be impractical…and, it’s dangerous. I know: I tried once to put my pants on both legs at the same time—I kind of held them out in front of me and then tried to jump into them—and I missed and fell over and hit my head on the bedroom wall. It was right where the stud in the wall was and I got a concussion. No one knows exactly how long I was there before my wife found me unconscious—probably a couple hours, at least. I barely remember doing it.”
He stopped and looked at the others around the table. They all stared silently at him for a second or two…then broke into peals of laughter.
As Marti playfully punched him in the shoulder and the laughter died down, Carl realized they all thought he’d made up that story to be funny.
He smiled, shrugged, and kept his mouth shut for the rest of lunch, deciding it was probably for the best if they all thought that.