Tuesday, 7 September 2010

Suffering Fools Gladly

Sat down after dinner a conversation strikes up...

Gentleman: You know how it is, I don't work well with people who tell me what to do and neither do I suffer fools gladly. That's why when Dad and I work together it's never easy.
Lady: I don't like that term, I've told you before.
Gentleman: What term?
Lady: "Suffering fools gladly", it suggests that someone is a fool when they could be a really interesting and intelligent person. You shouldn't put people down in those terms.
Gentleman: You knew what I meant.
Lady: That's not the point.
Gentleman: Well I don't want to fall out with you over this problem as well. The fact of the matter is, the model club isn't seeing eye to eye with Dad and you know how bad tempered he can get. He likes to do things his way.
Nick: It's an old peoples thing, they do more talking and less work on those models.
Gentleman: Yeah, that's what Dad was getting at, some of them turn up test there trains on test track don't do any work and go back home to there own project.
Lady: Maybe that's the problem with the club, they all attend as if they are all working on their own project with others helping and don't work as a true team.
Gentleman: Ah, well, we'll see how things are resolved tomorrow. This committee meeting is a load of nonsense. They complaining about stuff that the complainants do too and Dad is Dad, trying to do things his own way.
Lady: He wants to run it his way.
Gentleman: No he doesn't, he gave up being chairman because of all the politics involved in running the place. He is exhibition manager, that's a tough enough job as it is.
Lady: Right, well pudding I think. Dinner's gone down so far alreeaady.
Gentleman: What's for pudding?
Lady: We got the Fudge from the holiday.
Gentleman: (Gets up and walks over) Where is it?
Lady: In the bag marked "Cranchies", one for us and one for Nick.
Gentleman: (Coming back over) Here you go...
Lady: Look at this stuff, it's all glued together.
Nick: Mine's OK, its just got warm and turned in to one block of fudge.
Lady: You see what I mean about accusing people of not doing a proper job, they didn't sort the fudge out to well.
Gentleman: Yeah, how hard can it be to pack fudge properly.
Lady: (Turns in to hysterics and begins laughing) Nick: (looks cringingly down at his bag of fudge attempting to hide the rye smile and remove the thought again, at the sight of his pudding.
Gentleman: You dropped me in that...
Lady: Yeah.
Gentleman: ...the things which make you laugh, such a tiny mind you have to please.
Nick: (Looking at the gentleman) I saw that coming, suffering from fools gladly?

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