The Bennetton Effect

So, as I'm working through this job search thing which I believe is called "Hades for Dummies", I come to a brilliant realization of just how well the Benetton Effect has helped my family in the past and could be of benefit now. I can go to work doing darn near anything and if they don't feel comfortable acknowledging me when I drive the school bus up on the curb a couple of times accidentally which is wont to happen when I drive almost anything, they have plausible deniability.

In fact, the set up is almost perfect. First, the kids on the bus will probably applaud the curb driving which will sooth my mangled, unemployed ego. Second, no matter what I do, the husband and kids can just look at me and give a good old shrug and exclaim loudly, "no idea who she is". If I dare protest, they can then launch that gesture where one uses their index finger to make circles around their temple while looking knowingly at the other party and mouthing "crazy". After all, I am the only one in the household that has blue eyes and blindingly white skin that screams if it even sees the sun. They, on the other hand, don't.

Now, the husband has clearly used this in the past. When I crashed the motorized vehicle designed to assist the handicap into Walmart's wall at high speed and reported this to him when I got home, he was quick to let me know that if he had been with me, he and his son to be would have just quietly left the store and waited in the car to see if 1. an ambulance came or 2. I eventually came driving on out on the vehicle, albeit now with rounded bumpers in the front.

He also tried to avoid any familial connection several years ago in Hawaii. I thought it would just be a fabulous idea to send a couple of whole coconuts home to several of my brothers. After all, how often do you get to do that? Probably a reason for the lack of opportunity to do so but, in fact, the small island of Molokai, Hawaii, encourages it. They even have a post office that lets you do this. They keep a box of coconuts and you address the coconut on the outside green part and then they weigh and stamp it and off it goes. So, I thought it would be sort of fun for my brother who had a very, very small mailbox to get a notice to go to the post office to pick up his mail and get handed my unique gift. Figured the other would have his delivered which he did. The carrier stuffed my gift into into his mailbox and fortunately his wife did not call the bomb squad upon its discovery although that probably would have enhanced the experience, especially for the kids and also deepened their love for me to a heretofore unseen level.

So, we go to the post office. Turns out it is the wrong one - this island has two and only one has a bin of coconuts. The other one. The gal lets us know where we can go and get some free coconuts and off we go, the husband at this point so enthralled with the experience that he is sharing it vocally and with great enthusiasm, especially since we were to go run into some private property and get two suitable coconuts without getting hit by those falling from trees or running into the owner. After executing this move, back we go to the post office and that is when the husband decides it is a very good time to stay in the car as he wanted to maintain whatever modicum of dignity he had left.

Now, had I been going into the post office naked, I could understand the dignity part of it but because I was only going in to mail the biggest darn coconuts I could find and giggling about it, I could not agree that any loss of dignity could or would be involved. The husband quickly invoked the Peruvian clause which generally sounds something like, "Peruvian's don't do things like that you know and if we were in Peru, I think you'd be thrown in a mental asylum and then what would my family think considering,,,,,, I generally don't always get much beyond this point in the clause to hear either the conditions or disclaimers as closing the car/garage/house door generally muffles out that part of the drill.

So, I go in and the process begins. We weigh, we stamp. And as we do, the husband silently slips into the back of the post office to see what is taking so long, obviously forgetting that we are in Molokai, Hawaii, where life just doesn't move all that fast. Out of love for him, I just didn't want him to miss out and starting waving both of my arms like I'm trying to land a plane while exclaiming quite loudly, "That's my husband Robert - Hey honey, come over here to help me mail these coconuts, especially since it was your idea and I don't want you to miss out on any of the full experience."

So, the kids have the Bennetton Advantage of not looking a bit like mom and the husband has the Bennetton Advantage of me not looking like anyone he would hang with much less marry. Unless, of course, any of them forget the tip that perhaps they might not want to get trapped into a closed room with me where I can wave my arms and call them by name to acknowledge our association.

And that leaves almost any job possibility open for me. Just sort of lightens my heart and puts a spring in my step although it probably has some street engineers a bit concerned.