If they don't ask, don't tell.

Anita Name

I don't recommend... anything.

I used to be great at recommending stuff. You didn’t even have to ask; I’d tell you what was best. Scary thing, friends and family seemed to actually give a hoot about what I recommended. No more.

Now, nobody asks, and I don’t offer. Seldom offer. The termite inspector made his yearly inspection yesterday. And, no I don’t know if the policy is worth it. Wouldn’t tell you if I did.

This morning I got an e-mail from the termite company asking if I was pleased with everything. I checked all the positive boxes… except one. It was the one that asked if I would recommend their company to others. I checked “No.”

If you check “no” on a questionnaire, they’ll ask you to comment. Have you noticed that? Well, they do. I told them what I’m telling you. I don’t like to recommend stuff. Which is good, ‘cause people don’t give a green weenie for my opinion.

I used to recommend my car dealership’s repair shop. That was when Troy worked there. Troy would do you right. Last time I brought my car in, I found out that Troy didn’t work there anymore. He left without getting my okay.

Without Troy to look out for me, the auto repair experience turned out to be less than all right. So now, even if people ask, I have no repair place to recommend. That’s a lot off responsibility off my shoulders.

    It’s the same with movies. There was a time when I’d recommend movies to family and friends. I’d bring it right up in conversation. And, my opinion would actually send people to the movies. I had influence. That’s all gone now. There’s no a soul in my inner or outer circle who appreciates the stuff I watch… except Kay, of course.

Scene from Bernie

    The last two movies I thoroughly enjoyed were “Salmon Fishing in Yemen” and “Bernie.” I heard Kay trying to explain the Bernie movie to a friend of hers. The explanation didn’t remotely sound like anything I cared to see… and I’d already seen it. Her friend said, “And, that’s supposed to be a comedy?”

    There’s no way I’d tell my brothers about Bernie or the Salmon fishing movie. They’ve pretty well given up on me as is. If I didn’t have my Mom’s eyes and Dad’s big nose, they’d swear I was adopted. Those guys wouldn’t trust me to recommend a soothing innersole.

After telling you all of this, I feel a need to confess something. In fact it’s the “something” that caused me to choose this topic. This morning I offered my opinion to someone who didn’t even ask for it. Can you believe that? I gave an unsolicited recommendation. Wouldn’t have done it had it not been so crucial.

Seems Jill went to the pound and rescued a dog. She got a part poodle and part schnauzer. A poodzer. The dog is two years old. She named it Baby. 

I can’t bring myself to call a dog “Baby.” I don’t even call a baby “Baby.” I asked Jill if she’d change the name, and she ignored the request. I then e-mailed her. Put the request in writing. She said she couldn’t think of any other good names that ended in the “eee” sound. Several people told her that dogs like names that end in the “eee” sound. That’s the reason they call ‘em doggies.

I’ve heard stupider things in my lifetime, but nothing today. How do dogs communicate their name preference? – “Okay, let’s try this: ‘Fido.’ What do you think? Nothing? Okay. Rex? ‘Come here, Rex.’ How does that sound? – No? Okay I’m in a quandary here. What? Quandary? You like that? Must be the eee sound?”

I eventually sent Jill a list of “eee” sounding names. She settled on “Kazy.” I picked that ‘cause Jill doesn’t say “Okay.” I’ll ask if she wants coffee and she’ll say, “Okayzee.” Get it? Cool beans.

So, the dog is happy, Jill is happy, and I’m happy that I don’t have to say “Baby” to a schnaudoodle.

Having settled that little dilemma, I can now, go back to my policy of “Unless asked, don’t tell.” It makes life so much easier. And, people seem to get along with me better. Not good, just better.

end

You can reach Mark at mark@rooftopwriter.com