Tales of Suburban Encounters


I work for my college in the Office of Marketing and Communications. It’s a great gig. I can build my resume, get some valuable experience, make some money, and do it all in accordance with my class schedule. I like the people I work with, and have become the token country girl of the office. For my birthday, they even gave me a card with a little girl in cowgirl boots, a tutu, and fairy wings. Apparently, my co-workers know me too well. (I’ve always aspired to be a cowgirl fairy princess ballerina, so the card was fitting. I’m saving it forever and ever!)

The other day, we had a special luncheon to celebrate all the student employees of the department. There are five of us altogether. At the luncheon, we chit-chatted over Lou Malnati’s authentic Chicago-style pizza and talked about our summer plans. I got some ooh’s and aah’s surrounding my trip to California for the summer, but the most interesting part of the conversation came when our public relations guy, Ted, brought up cattle.

He and his 15-year-old son had been canoeing, and saw cattle along the banks of the river. His son asked if they were “wild cows.” Ted laughed it off and told him no, they weren’t wild, they belonged to a farmer.

This made me chuckle.

Somehow, that transitioned to me explaining that there is such a thing as a “wild cow milking event” in rodeos. I’m sure my co-workers thought I was lying. The ones that believed me probably thought it was a completely pointless and ludicrous thing to do. I never got the chance to explain that there are actually situations where a rancher may have to attempt to get a little milk from an untame cow…conversation veered off in another direction and we all continued to stuff our faces with pizza.

The moral of the story?

There isn’t one.

It’s just an example of the humorous situations I deal with everyday when talking to my city slicker peers. I used to hate living in the suburbs; however, lately, I’ve felt oddly sentimental about these sort of conversations. I’m going to miss them someday.

Advertisements

4 thoughts on “Tales of Suburban Encounters

  1. I worked in University Relations on campus, sounds similar to your department. We also had a celebration for the student employees, or well for the graduating employees and 4/5 were graduating. It’s interesting the talks you hear about agriculture even there, where it’s definitely not the suburbs. They do make for interesting conversation.

    • I used to resent the fact that no one here knows anything about ag. Slowly, I’ve learned to embrace it. Through occasions such as this one, I’ve really come to see the humor (and opportunity) that comes with these situations. And it’s nice to know that when people think “farming” here, they think of me, and come to me with their thoughts and questions. It’s a great feeling!

  2. Kelly,
    We absolutely have come to rely on you to educate us about topics that we know nothing about (don’t forget that you also told us that cucumbers actually do have some nutritional value, too.) And (unsolicited advice approaching) never apologize for what you know. Interesting people are interested in interesting people. You are interesting and if others can’t appreciate it, forget ’em. Focus on those that do…and there are several here in this office.
    Kathleen
    PS. Love the blog

    • Kathleen! Thank you so much for reading and commenting. It made my day to check my email and see this sitting in my inbox. It means a lot! I love all of the random conversations that crop up at work, and it’s incredibly touching to know that to so many people my name is synonymous with agriculture. It means I’m doing something right. I miss you guys.

Tell me what you're thinkin'!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s