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R. Linda:
So it came to my attention yesterday at lunchtime, that I being Irish was asked to explain what the Irish Goodbye or Irish Exit is. Now normally, I don't get caught in these discussions on Irish ways because it always lands me in trouble. When I was first asked about it, I tried to ignore it. Unfortunately for me, I was at a table full of ladies and this was a subject they had "a need to know."
Let me backtrack so you can get the gist of how this came to be. I told you about my former colleague Maureen coming to work with yours truly. Yesterday morning Maureen asked me if I wanted to lunch with her and sister Rose. Now this was a ploy for me to see how lovely a lass Miss Rose is and a hint for me to put some extra effort into finding her a man. Oi! To keep this interesting I asked one of me editors, Mrs. Desmond, if she'd like to come along. My thinking was that Mrs. D be a bit o' a matchmaker she is, and if there be any single Irish American males in the company, it was her who would know. Now I imparted to Maureen that Mrs. D be joining us and I hoped she did not mind. Well, no she didn't but she did say, "I hope we aren't talkin' business over loouch because Rose be not into newspapers and such."
I thought, then that be a real shame she marries one of these fellas because that's what they'll want to talk about. Oi! On second thought, why would she be interested in the news business? She's husband hunting and until she hooks a fella, it won't matter what he does, so I assured Maureen we'd be talking "eligible(s)" and no newspaper talk, no, no nothin' like that.
Mrs. D met us at the place we were lunching as she was out on an errand, so I got to meet Rose prior to her appearance at table. Rose was waiting for us like a salivating dog waiting for its meal. She was all animated she was, and twisting herself out of shape because she thought I was single! Oh, it was terrible it was, but I did as much with me left hand as possible so me wedding ring would flash before her eyes, as there was no polite way of saying, "Whoa there Rosie, I be taken, so settle it down, good girl." SIGH
Finally, Maureen mentioned my wife and that, yes that, had the effect of watching a balloon deflate in front of your eyes. Rose just fell into herself and seemed very small and quiet. Very quiet. It was about that time Mrs. D showed her merry self and the talk began to flow until we got to how awful men can be. It was uncomfortable and the one who got quiet this time was meself! I heard what bastards we are when it comes to this, that and the other thing. I so wanted to interrupt the dissing with the question, "Then why do any of ye want to get married or be married if we are all a bunch of rotters?" But I held me tongue.
As the dissing progressed and Mrs. D was throwing out some single names of employees she thinks somewhat highly of (as long as she's not married to any of them that is), another woman (Monique), who I work with came in and asked if she could join us. Well, why not? The more the merrier and well, the conversation downgraded into more stories of males being not worth their time. I was humming to meself, I didn't know that but I was, to blot out the conversation I suppose. And what did I get for it? "See, Gabe's a perfect example of how attentive men aren't when you are talking." Oh yeah.
The conversation rolled around with Mrs. D saying that this particular reporter (I won't name him for fear of embarrassing the man), would be a perfect date for Rose because he was an Irish American and not too hard on the eyes. Monique, with a mouthful of salad, made disparaging noises and swallowed long enough to tell us that John (let's call him that) was nice looking, that much was true, but he was notorious for the 'Irish Goodbye' because he took her out leaving her to pay the bar tab and he, never hinting he wasn't having a good time, up and left without a word.
"Then there is Joe, George, Kenny and Michael, you don't want to go out with any of them either," Monique said.
Rose sat there frowning and Mrs. D was wracking her brains for eligible men other than John, Joe, George, Kenny and Michael. Then as if a thought struck her, you could see the wheels turning, the Irish Goodbye thought in particular had her, she looked at Monique.
"The Irish exit, oh yeah," Monique nodded to Mrs. D's questioning eyes.
"Irish goodbye? Never heard of it. What he leaves and leaves you to pay?" Mrs. D enquired.
"That and other ways of doing it. You know don't you Gabe? Shamrock Shuffle?"
I was not expecting to be brought into THAT topic. I just shook me head and took a bite of the burger so I wouldn't have to say a word.
"Shamrock shuffle is a race back in Ireland it be," Rose said.
"Yeah, and it's also called that if the man is too drunk to run out of the building," Monique said and they were all laughing except me. She even made a two-fingered man of her fingers lurching across the table. Oh yeah, haha funny.
"So? How does this work I want ta know?" Rose looked confused but very interested.
"It seems to happen when you are on a date and instead of telling you up front he's not enjoying himself, he excuses himself to go to the john and he never comes back. Out the backdoor, you know." Monique only too happy to explain said, as I shook me head, swallowed and decided I better defend me sex.
"Have ye ever been out with someone and you tink to yourself, wow this be a hot date and as the time goes on you find the person isn't all you thought they'd be? Like for example, you find she's a drinker and she's doing all sorts of tings in public that embarrass the hell out of you and there be no way she wants to leave the bar and there you are stuck. So what can you do?"
"The IGB comes into play," Monique snorted like she got the big question answered right on a game show.
"Exactly," said I. "You know to tell her you aren't enjoyin' her company, she'll get loud and in front of everyone give you a hard time over it. Or," I stupidly ran on, "how about you're cheating on your significant other and that person shows up. The best ting is to pull yourself out of the situation by leaving before they see you."
They all looked at me with dagger eyes. I don't know why I said that last, I'd never do that, but out it tumbled.
"Not that I'm saying I would do such a ting but it's happened to people I know," I said trying to defend meself.
"They just oop and leave ye say?" Rose asked an angry edge to her voice.
"Well, sometimes they say they are goin' for a smoke but I tink it would be nicer if you alerted your best friend to send you a text saying there be an emergency and ya need to leave right then and there and well . . . if the date isn't going well there's your excuse if it is going well, you ignore the text." I threw up me hands.
"Really?" Maureen said and they were all looking at me like I had just done what I said. "The backdoor is over there," she pointed to a door behind the bar still looking at me.
Was this me cue to go?
"Now ladies, I can't do that because for one I be enjoying your company," here I gave me best sincere smile ever, "The lunch be on me," something I didn't expect, but well, I had got myself into trouble, "and besides you'd all know I was doing that, and to do a proper Irish Goodbye you shouldn't be aware of me leaving. And, there are quite a few people I know who are sitting near that door who will stop me to talk and you'd be cued into me getting closer and out the door with you knowing. How would that be? And, I have a coat that is upfront, I couldn't just leave it, so you see I wasn't planning ahead." I was floundering I was, so I said something more stupid in way of thinking I was being helpful, "And Rosie here's a hint, if your date brings his coat and hangs yours up in the coatroom, be aware he may be tinking of the IGB." Way too much information and I only realised it when I was done.
They all sat there silently, Mrs. D slowly chewing her food as if she had taken a bite of me brains and was testing them for any taste of decorum and intelligence. Rose looked sulky and depressed, with her sister frowning at the table in thought, and Monique smiling, YES SMILING at me! She knew I had given up part of the male code to a table full of women and had committed a sin against my own kind.
I gulped. I didn't have to fidget and feel uncomfortable for long, they decided it was time for them to go and leave me with the bill. I sat there waiting for the waitress to bring back my card as I watched them go, all with heads together discussing . . . ME! I knew it, I can't do anything right when it comes to the opposite sex. I get meself into more kinds of trouble when I think I am being the most helpful.
A feminine hand interrupted me self wallowing. She placed the card and receipt in front of me. I looked up to thank her, but before I could open me piehole she smiled and said, "I couldn't help but overhearin', but me gran had a sayin' she did, it went like this, 'A man is often a bad adviser to himself and a good adviser to another.' Yer friends will get it. You were tryin' to help ye were at sum cost ta yersef."
Bless me soul an understanding girl from the old sod. I nodded thinking of her words as she turned to another customer. Yup, it always happens to me that way. Me best intentions never come off as I hope. In time, I be sure Rose will meet a nice non-Irish American who makes cupcakes and they'll get married. Monique will continue her crusade on dissing men kind and Mrs. D will probably take stock of her matchmaking subjects and consider the IGB they may all be capable and culpable of. As for me, it will all die down in time and I will be the good time Charlie they all know and sort of like. Oh well.
And here below you will find these in the pubs in Eire. They are placed strategically for us men so we know how to execute a proper Irish Exit.
R. Linda:
So it came to my attention yesterday at lunchtime, that I being Irish was asked to explain what the Irish Goodbye or Irish Exit is. Now normally, I don't get caught in these discussions on Irish ways because it always lands me in trouble. When I was first asked about it, I tried to ignore it. Unfortunately for me, I was at a table full of ladies and this was a subject they had "a need to know."
Let me backtrack so you can get the gist of how this came to be. I told you about my former colleague Maureen coming to work with yours truly. Yesterday morning Maureen asked me if I wanted to lunch with her and sister Rose. Now this was a ploy for me to see how lovely a lass Miss Rose is and a hint for me to put some extra effort into finding her a man. Oi! To keep this interesting I asked one of me editors, Mrs. Desmond, if she'd like to come along. My thinking was that Mrs. D be a bit o' a matchmaker she is, and if there be any single Irish American males in the company, it was her who would know. Now I imparted to Maureen that Mrs. D be joining us and I hoped she did not mind. Well, no she didn't but she did say, "I hope we aren't talkin' business over loouch because Rose be not into newspapers and such."
I thought, then that be a real shame she marries one of these fellas because that's what they'll want to talk about. Oi! On second thought, why would she be interested in the news business? She's husband hunting and until she hooks a fella, it won't matter what he does, so I assured Maureen we'd be talking "eligible(s)" and no newspaper talk, no, no nothin' like that.
Mrs. D met us at the place we were lunching as she was out on an errand, so I got to meet Rose prior to her appearance at table. Rose was waiting for us like a salivating dog waiting for its meal. She was all animated she was, and twisting herself out of shape because she thought I was single! Oh, it was terrible it was, but I did as much with me left hand as possible so me wedding ring would flash before her eyes, as there was no polite way of saying, "Whoa there Rosie, I be taken, so settle it down, good girl." SIGH
Finally, Maureen mentioned my wife and that, yes that, had the effect of watching a balloon deflate in front of your eyes. Rose just fell into herself and seemed very small and quiet. Very quiet. It was about that time Mrs. D showed her merry self and the talk began to flow until we got to how awful men can be. It was uncomfortable and the one who got quiet this time was meself! I heard what bastards we are when it comes to this, that and the other thing. I so wanted to interrupt the dissing with the question, "Then why do any of ye want to get married or be married if we are all a bunch of rotters?" But I held me tongue.
As the dissing progressed and Mrs. D was throwing out some single names of employees she thinks somewhat highly of (as long as she's not married to any of them that is), another woman (Monique), who I work with came in and asked if she could join us. Well, why not? The more the merrier and well, the conversation downgraded into more stories of males being not worth their time. I was humming to meself, I didn't know that but I was, to blot out the conversation I suppose. And what did I get for it? "See, Gabe's a perfect example of how attentive men aren't when you are talking." Oh yeah.
The conversation rolled around with Mrs. D saying that this particular reporter (I won't name him for fear of embarrassing the man), would be a perfect date for Rose because he was an Irish American and not too hard on the eyes. Monique, with a mouthful of salad, made disparaging noises and swallowed long enough to tell us that John (let's call him that) was nice looking, that much was true, but he was notorious for the 'Irish Goodbye' because he took her out leaving her to pay the bar tab and he, never hinting he wasn't having a good time, up and left without a word.
"Then there is Joe, George, Kenny and Michael, you don't want to go out with any of them either," Monique said.
Rose sat there frowning and Mrs. D was wracking her brains for eligible men other than John, Joe, George, Kenny and Michael. Then as if a thought struck her, you could see the wheels turning, the Irish Goodbye thought in particular had her, she looked at Monique.
"The Irish exit, oh yeah," Monique nodded to Mrs. D's questioning eyes.
"Irish goodbye? Never heard of it. What he leaves and leaves you to pay?" Mrs. D enquired.
"That and other ways of doing it. You know don't you Gabe? Shamrock Shuffle?"
I was not expecting to be brought into THAT topic. I just shook me head and took a bite of the burger so I wouldn't have to say a word.
"Shamrock shuffle is a race back in Ireland it be," Rose said.
"Yeah, and it's also called that if the man is too drunk to run out of the building," Monique said and they were all laughing except me. She even made a two-fingered man of her fingers lurching across the table. Oh yeah, haha funny.
"So? How does this work I want ta know?" Rose looked confused but very interested.
"It seems to happen when you are on a date and instead of telling you up front he's not enjoying himself, he excuses himself to go to the john and he never comes back. Out the backdoor, you know." Monique only too happy to explain said, as I shook me head, swallowed and decided I better defend me sex.
"Have ye ever been out with someone and you tink to yourself, wow this be a hot date and as the time goes on you find the person isn't all you thought they'd be? Like for example, you find she's a drinker and she's doing all sorts of tings in public that embarrass the hell out of you and there be no way she wants to leave the bar and there you are stuck. So what can you do?"
"The IGB comes into play," Monique snorted like she got the big question answered right on a game show.
"Exactly," said I. "You know to tell her you aren't enjoyin' her company, she'll get loud and in front of everyone give you a hard time over it. Or," I stupidly ran on, "how about you're cheating on your significant other and that person shows up. The best ting is to pull yourself out of the situation by leaving before they see you."
They all looked at me with dagger eyes. I don't know why I said that last, I'd never do that, but out it tumbled.
"Not that I'm saying I would do such a ting but it's happened to people I know," I said trying to defend meself.
"They just oop and leave ye say?" Rose asked an angry edge to her voice.
"Well, sometimes they say they are goin' for a smoke but I tink it would be nicer if you alerted your best friend to send you a text saying there be an emergency and ya need to leave right then and there and well . . . if the date isn't going well there's your excuse if it is going well, you ignore the text." I threw up me hands.
"Really?" Maureen said and they were all looking at me like I had just done what I said. "The backdoor is over there," she pointed to a door behind the bar still looking at me.
Was this me cue to go?
"Now ladies, I can't do that because for one I be enjoying your company," here I gave me best sincere smile ever, "The lunch be on me," something I didn't expect, but well, I had got myself into trouble, "and besides you'd all know I was doing that, and to do a proper Irish Goodbye you shouldn't be aware of me leaving. And, there are quite a few people I know who are sitting near that door who will stop me to talk and you'd be cued into me getting closer and out the door with you knowing. How would that be? And, I have a coat that is upfront, I couldn't just leave it, so you see I wasn't planning ahead." I was floundering I was, so I said something more stupid in way of thinking I was being helpful, "And Rosie here's a hint, if your date brings his coat and hangs yours up in the coatroom, be aware he may be tinking of the IGB." Way too much information and I only realised it when I was done.
They all sat there silently, Mrs. D slowly chewing her food as if she had taken a bite of me brains and was testing them for any taste of decorum and intelligence. Rose looked sulky and depressed, with her sister frowning at the table in thought, and Monique smiling, YES SMILING at me! She knew I had given up part of the male code to a table full of women and had committed a sin against my own kind.
I gulped. I didn't have to fidget and feel uncomfortable for long, they decided it was time for them to go and leave me with the bill. I sat there waiting for the waitress to bring back my card as I watched them go, all with heads together discussing . . . ME! I knew it, I can't do anything right when it comes to the opposite sex. I get meself into more kinds of trouble when I think I am being the most helpful.
A feminine hand interrupted me self wallowing. She placed the card and receipt in front of me. I looked up to thank her, but before I could open me piehole she smiled and said, "I couldn't help but overhearin', but me gran had a sayin' she did, it went like this, 'A man is often a bad adviser to himself and a good adviser to another.' Yer friends will get it. You were tryin' to help ye were at sum cost ta yersef."
Bless me soul an understanding girl from the old sod. I nodded thinking of her words as she turned to another customer. Yup, it always happens to me that way. Me best intentions never come off as I hope. In time, I be sure Rose will meet a nice non-Irish American who makes cupcakes and they'll get married. Monique will continue her crusade on dissing men kind and Mrs. D will probably take stock of her matchmaking subjects and consider the IGB they may all be capable and culpable of. As for me, it will all die down in time and I will be the good time Charlie they all know and sort of like. Oh well.
And here below you will find these in the pubs in Eire. They are placed strategically for us men so we know how to execute a proper Irish Exit.
Gabe
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