The other day I tried to tell the Crankee Yankee about a funny t-shirt I saw in a window of a store. I was just about ready to deliver the punchline; that is, what the shirt “said,” when he interrupted me:
“Where was the store?”
HUH? ‘Where was the store?’ What the heck did it matter? I was trying to tell him what was on the front of the t-shirt! So I told him it didn’t matter (I’d forgotten, anyway), and again started to tell him about the t-shirt.
But he just had to know where the store was–it didn’t seem to matter that I was only trying to tell him about the funny slogan on the t-shirt that was in the store window.
Gathering my patience, I repeated that I didn’t remember where the store was, and could I please finish what I was saying? He reluctantly agreed, but he already had that ‘I MUST know where this place is or I can’t hear another word you’re saying!’ look in his eyes.
So I tried to finish telling him about the slogan on the t-shirt–I had just opened my mouth, and he said, “Well, was the store in NH?”
Sigh. I knew I wasn’t going to get his attention to finish what I was saying, so I said that yes, it was in NH. He brightened right up and asked, “Where exactly in NH?”
Well, I gave up at that point. By this time, way too much time had passed and the moment was lost. And this is the story of our lives. I live for the delivery, he lives for details.
By no means is he the only person who does this, either. In fact, I find that the majority of people seem to feel this way. It’s as if they just cannot stand it if they don’t know the dull and unimportant (in my mind, anyway) details. I want to get right to the meat of the story–for me, what does it matter if the store is in NH or Madagascar? What, do they all want me to deliver a research paper or just tell the dang story?!
Details, mere details, my friends.