I often wear a hat. Not in the house, except sometimes to bed, but that’s another night’s tale. The hat is a wide-brimmed green Tilley. A dozen pins decorates it.
When I checked in for my medical appointment yesterday, the young guy doing my intake looked at my hat and grinned.
“I was just admiring your pins.”
I replied, “That’s my flair.”
His grin grew wider. “You can never have too much flair.”
I answered, “No, but I think I need to speak to you about your flair.”
Laughter answered me. “I know. I gotta work on that.”
We both nodded. It was all an unspoken reference to Office Space from 1999. I figured the kid I was speaking to is about 29 years old, five or take, you know. But just a child when the movie came out.
I feel like we’re part of a secret tribe. The tribe of flare.