Ah yes, the glasses gambit. Years ago, a powerful pol pulled it on me when I was a newbie reporter in Albany (New York’s state capital.) I was in a bar with a colleague, networking, or trying to. It was the thing to do in those days (maybe still is) for reporters to spend time in various post-dinner hangouts, hoping to pry information out of the many politicians who gravitated to bars after hours. We did not drink. The politicians did.
So this guy, infamous for playing around (as did many married men in Albany) came on to me complete with the hackneyed glasses line. "Hey," he says, "Let's see what you look like without your glasses. Come on. Take them off." I stared at him (through my glasses) and said quite loudly — and with the full knowledge that I was burning a potential source — "WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?"
Activity in the bar stopped cold. My colleague, nominally my boss, looked as though he wanted to disappear into the floor, since the anti-glasses guy was a major power in Albany and therefore valuable to journalists. The miscreant and his buddy (who subsequently did time on corruption charges), got very busy talking to each other, studiously avoiding me.
I never got an apology, and a few weeks later I was lucky enough to leave Albany behind for another assignment. I still wear glasses -- very large ones.
I have a feeling I was not the only woman in totalitarian underwear at that wedding. Many women were looking suspiciously smooth. And we were definitely hitting the bar.
Ah yes, the glasses gambit. Years ago, a powerful pol pulled it on me when I was a newbie reporter in Albany (New York’s state capital.) I was in a bar with a colleague, networking, or trying to. It was the thing to do in those days (maybe still is) for reporters to spend time in various post-dinner hangouts, hoping to pry information out of the many politicians who gravitated to bars after hours. We did not drink. The politicians did.
So this guy, infamous for playing around (as did many married men in Albany) came on to me complete with the hackneyed glasses line. "Hey," he says, "Let's see what you look like without your glasses. Come on. Take them off." I stared at him (through my glasses) and said quite loudly — and with the full knowledge that I was burning a potential source — "WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?"
Activity in the bar stopped cold. My colleague, nominally my boss, looked as though he wanted to disappear into the floor, since the anti-glasses guy was a major power in Albany and therefore valuable to journalists. The miscreant and his buddy (who subsequently did time on corruption charges), got very busy talking to each other, studiously avoiding me.
I never got an apology, and a few weeks later I was lucky enough to leave Albany behind for another assignment. I still wear glasses -- very large ones.
I love this story, Joyce! Thank you for putting it up.
And thank you for jogging my memory with your hilarious column, Joyce.
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Went back & read this column again and couldn’t stop giggling. So happy to find you.
Sharon,
Thank you, I'm delighted you're here.
I have a feeling I was not the only woman in totalitarian underwear at that wedding. Many women were looking suspiciously smooth. And we were definitely hitting the bar.
-- Joyce
"...where a sign in the shop claimed Amelia Earhart and Charles Lindbergh had been customers. I wasn’t sure this was the best marketing."
The way this line almost made me spit water on my desk. LMAO.
Rob,
A spit take (SOB!). The highest compliment a humorist can receive. Though money is also good.
-- Joyce
I am thrilled to learn so much and be amused by subjects of which I knew so little.
I suspect you know more than you're letting on.
a slinky on meth!!
Love it.
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Wow...this cross-pollination of newsletters is terrific!