Everybody Has a Story: Wait for the punchline

It was the late 1980s, and I was attending an industry conference in Monterey, Calif. I was the only person from my office attending, and I knew very few people at the conference — just those whom I had encountered at previous conferences on similar topics. So, I did what one does when one goes to a conference all alone: I made temporary friends so I would not have to eat lunch and dinner by myself.

On one occasion, a group of four of us, who were only vaguely familiar with each other, took a cab to a Monterey restaurant for dinner. There were two men and two women. Starting with wine put everyone in a happy mood. Someone told a joke or two, and we became even happier. Another bottle of wine appeared with dinner, and soon the stories and jokes became more boisterous. Boisterous, but clean. We were, after all, business colleagues of both sexes, not people on a date.

I soon noticed that one of the men was not laughing. He smiled all the time, but for some reason he was not laughing. I watched him quietly during the meal, and he told as many interesting stories as either of the other two people, but he did not laugh at his own stories, nor did he laugh at any of ours.

After one more glass of wine, I challenged myself to make this man laugh. I told funny stories and a joke or two. I really put myself out there.

Smiles, but no laughs.

Over dessert, with time running out on my individual challenge, I launched into another story. I don’t remember what it was about. I only know that I ramped up my performance to the highest level. I soon had two of my three companions in stitches; the smiling man remained interested, but still not laughing.

At last I reached the conclusion of the story, threw out the punchline and sat back, waiting for a result. As before, two of my companions laughed heartily. But the smiling man? He sat silently for a moment, then made a small chuckle, and finally — finally, after all my efforts — burst out laughing.

We were all in a jovial mood as we rode back to the conference hotel. As it turned out, I did not see them again, socially, at the conference. I later heard that one no longer worked in the industry, and another started her own company and seemed to be doing quite well.

And the smiling man? Reader, I married him! And I’ve been keeping him in stitches ever since.

Everybody Has a Story welcomes true, first-person tales by Columbian readers, 1,000 words maximum, and relevant photographs. Send to: neighbors@columbian.com or P.O. Box 180, Vancouver WA, 98666. Call “Everybody Has an Editor” Scott Hewitt, 360-735-4525, with questions.