SCOTLAND AND THE MANY FACES OF JIMBORED

In this post, I am going to reflect on how some people perceived me, during our time in Scotland. Some of their observations were sobering to me, from the viewpoint of my own self image. I titled this one, the many faces of JimboRed. However, it could be more appropriately named the “JimboRed misunderstood”. I might start by saying, that the image I had of myself consisted of a great golfer and athlete, combined in a nurturing/caring package of tolerance and acceptance of all. That, not to mention, an ageless appearance, belying my +/- 50 years at the time. Now let’s examine how others perceived me.

To Ol’ Bubbaloo, I was just a big pussycat, to be manipulated in any manner she saw fit. She had my number. I was dressed, coached and booted in the butt, out the door, each morning, to go win the bread. I pretty much did as I was told, if I wanted to stay in her favour.

Ange told me one day, that her girlfriends at school were a little intimidated by me. Each time they had a chance to see me, I was dressed in suit and tie, had dark tinted glasses on and was covered in a black full length overcoat. They told her that they thought I was working for the CIA on some kind of mission in Scotland.

My secretary once confided in me that the girls in the office thought I was an aging “porn star”. One whose looks and body had started too sag. Geezus, what a kick in the huevos! I didn’t know what hurt the most. The aging, sagging or image of an old porn actor. I didn’t try to dress, however those people dressed. I just put on whatever Ol’ Bubbaloo laid out in the morning. She always told me I looked “hot”; not aged, sagging and cheap.

Ron, of course always hurt the worst. One day, I was getting ready to make a Sunday FLIGHT to London, for an unscheduled meeting. And after donning my dark suit, charcoal overcoat and my newly purchased, mirrored shades. I ventured out onto the top landing of the stairs, only to be confronted by Ron. She was standing at the bottom. As I descended she came to a stop, splayed her hands out to the side of her body. Then with her best “fake” hero look, she exclaimed, “WHHOOOAAA, YOU’RE NOT FLYING IT ARE YOU?” this to great peels of laughter from her mom and Ange. I wanted to run back up and curl up under my bed. She could really hurt you.

Finally came those that worked for me. One time, the day after I had got the roto-router run up through my heart and a blockage cleared, Ol’ Bubbaloo and I attended the company Christmas Party. No one really believed I would be there, about 36 hours after getting reamed out. While I was bellying up to the bar, I overheard a couple of my workers saying, “yeah he’s such a hardass, maybe this will soften him up”. They looked up, saw me, and with embarrassed looks, scurried away.

One day Ol’ Bubbaloo did my image irreparable harm with the heart doctor. I had gone thru a heart procedure and was visiting my doctor for my 1st, 30 day checkup. I had him convinced that I was so pure that I could probably run in the next marathon. I’m on a roll and “figuratively” blowing smoke around this guy. My plan is to just get out of there without any controversy. We are ending and I’m about to bolt for freedom, when Ol’ Bubbaloo pipes up! “Doctor do you know what this guy is going to do?” “No, do tell me”, he invites. “Well”, she says, “you know the three units of red wine you told him he could drink each day?” He nods. She continues, “well he doesn’t like wine, so he’s saving it up for 30 days AND THEN HE’S GOING TO DRINK IT ALL AT ONCE!” He’s now convinced that he is dealing with some kinda lunatic alcoholic. He gets right up in my face, waggles his finger at me and says, “nope, if you don’t use it you lose it! No saving!” “Hear me?” Geez thanks Bubbaloo.

Has any man ever been so misunderstood? Geezus!