I use to work in the paint and furniture department of a local chain store. I had a reputation for always getting the paint mixed to just the right color. One day I got back from lunch and my co-workers wer really happy to see me because they had a customer come in to get some paint mixed, he was very particular about the color because it was for a historic house and it had to maintain the original color in order to stay to code. He had a hand written paint formula on a scrap of paper from the last time he got the paint mixed about 4 years earlier, but nobody, not even the Pittsburgh paint store, had been able to match the color just right. I took the formula and looked it over and I couldn’t figure out how anyone could have missed the color because the formula had everything you needed to mix the color, including unusual base you needed to start the paint (the only thing I could figure out was that the mixer had missed the paint base because it was an odd one that I’d only used once in the seven years I’d been working for the store). As I looked over the formula I kept thinking that something about the writing looked familier, and suddenly it hit me, I pulled out the notepad that I made all my work notes in and checked the handwritting and lo and behold, it was my hand writing. I matched the color perfectly.
I’m remembering an old (sixty years ago at least!) New Yorker cartoon: a view of the lobby of the United Nations, with a little sundries shop. The clerk is talking to his manager and pointing to a large crowd of Finns, Nigerians, Arabs, Chinese, and every imaginable nationality and skin tone and saying “They all want flesh-colored bandages!”
Last Rose Of Summer Premium Member almost 8 years ago
We must be going color.
socalvillaguy Premium Member almost 8 years ago
A fun way to introduce the color strip. Nice!
Nighthawks Premium Member almost 8 years ago
of course, in Pleasantville you may run into this
PoodleGroomer almost 8 years ago
This is a major breakthrough in a Vatican full of old white men.
patlaborvi almost 8 years ago
I use to work in the paint and furniture department of a local chain store. I had a reputation for always getting the paint mixed to just the right color. One day I got back from lunch and my co-workers wer really happy to see me because they had a customer come in to get some paint mixed, he was very particular about the color because it was for a historic house and it had to maintain the original color in order to stay to code. He had a hand written paint formula on a scrap of paper from the last time he got the paint mixed about 4 years earlier, but nobody, not even the Pittsburgh paint store, had been able to match the color just right. I took the formula and looked it over and I couldn’t figure out how anyone could have missed the color because the formula had everything you needed to mix the color, including unusual base you needed to start the paint (the only thing I could figure out was that the mixer had missed the paint base because it was an odd one that I’d only used once in the seven years I’d been working for the store). As I looked over the formula I kept thinking that something about the writing looked familier, and suddenly it hit me, I pulled out the notepad that I made all my work notes in and checked the handwritting and lo and behold, it was my hand writing. I matched the color perfectly.
Jim Kerner almost 8 years ago
I’m looking forward to seeing Pope Francis on Monday.
John W. Vinson Premium Member almost 8 years ago
I’m remembering an old (sixty years ago at least!) New Yorker cartoon: a view of the lobby of the United Nations, with a little sundries shop. The clerk is talking to his manager and pointing to a large crowd of Finns, Nigerians, Arabs, Chinese, and every imaginable nationality and skin tone and saying “They all want flesh-colored bandages!”