BLOBBY'S BLOG

Baby, You Can Drive My Car

I probably already used this title for something, but no worry - you'll all live.

No post yesterday, and I really considered no post today. Mind you - it hasn't really helped that I've been out drinking every single work night this week, and will continue this trend tonite.

I would like to say I woke up hungover this morning, but in reality, I woke up a little drunk.

But I really wanted to tell you, even in a tipsy haze of last night, how mortified I was when I attended a Harvard Business School function last night. Mind you, I did not attend HBS, but I think I mentioned last year when I went, folks ignore me in mid-conversation when they found out did not go to Harvard.

The only person last year to talk to me was probably an odd man out: an african-american graduate. Even among his educational peers he was a leper.

This year they increased the minority population by 100%. Yes, there were TWO (!!) in attendance. Next year, I'm guessing there will be none - and here is why:

A man (not an HBS alum) got up to accept some leadership award thingy. He was from Ashland, OH - which he admits is a farming community. But he teaches Economics, probably at Ashland University. But he goes on and on about coming to 'the big city'.

...and how he ran into gangs!!! Gangs with their colors on!!! Red VESTS!!!! Who demanded that he give them his car and to get out!

Yes folks, it was the valet staff.

Joke or not - anecdote or not, it was horribly offensive on every single level you can think of. Naturally, all the alum laughed and laughed and laughed. My scanning around the side of the room, the wait staff did not - nor did I. I'm sure my eyes were bulging with Cabernet and white guilt hyperthyroidism.

I don't care next year if the boss asks me to go and if my job is in potential peril. Sometimes the cost is too high.

At least this year, I went with a co-worker and we stood around talking through clenched teeth about our yachts and summer houses on the lake.



Song by: the Beatles