Yesterday over a Macdonald's supper (I was hungry la) my father told this story.
Many of you know that my father is a business school lecturer. 'Business school' is the keyword here - he doesn't earn millions, nor does he have three Lamborghinis of different colors awaiting my pick. Business schools not only teach business, they do business - dirty armtwisting business at times. And my father's seen a general cut of per hour fees to about 2/3 the sum offered when he first started teaching. Maybe even less.
So anyway he was meeting a new class for the first time. And he probably was either taking attendance, like Elaine, or was getting to know students by referring to the register... like Elaine. When he came to this innocent-looking Vietnam girl, he had trouble pronouncing her names, what with all the Tringhs Throngs and Trungs (no offense... I mean it's true). So he looked up and said, 'Is there any other easier name that you have?'
'Yes. Just call me Love.'
My father was taking a sip of tea and he swore he very nearly choked big time.
'Love. Call me Love.'
My father then did something a little imprudent, and remarked, 'I can't call you that, you know. I only call my wife that.'
The whole class laughed, but she visibly wasn't too amused.
If you want to try your hand at doing away with some old, hopefully un-dirty man, you know what to do.
Just call me Love.