My best story is someone else’s best story too. Actually, his might be better.
It was about ten years ago. My first hardcover book, The Dilbert Principle, had just hit number one on the New York Times best seller list. I was already getting a lot of media attention because of Dilbert. That was nothing compared to the attention I got when my book hit the top of the charts. I sometimes did five interviews a day.
Luckily, cartoonists are invisible in public. No matter how many times my face got published, or I did TV interviews, I was almost never recognized in public. I counted on that.
So there I was, flying from California to Florida, to give a paid speech. The client paid for a first class ticket. I was in an aisle seat, reading a magazine. The fellow on my left pulls out a book to read: The Dilbert Principle. The back cover features a photo of me holding a huge pencil. “Uh oh,” I think. If this guy makes the connection, it’s going to be a long flight.
The guy starts reading. He laughs. Phew. I’m glad he likes the book. He laughs some more. He’s really getting into it now. I look to my right. The fellow directly across the aisle pulls out a book to read: The Dilbert Principle. Now I have them on both sides, and the plane hasn’t crossed Arizona yet. Damn. There’s no way one of them won’t recognize me from the book jacket.
Now the guy on my left is convulsing. He’s wiping tears from his eyes. He’s having the time of his life. But he realizes his laughter is disturbing me. So he turns to me and says, “I’m sorry. It’s this book. Have you read it?”
I’m staring at my own book, sitting next to a fellow who might be my biggest fan ever, and I don’t want to spend the next five hours talking about “where I get my ideas.” So I smile and say, “Yes. I’ve read it a few times.” Well, it was true.
The man goes back to reading. Now he’s totally losing control. He’s embarrassed at his laughing and tries to make conversation so he doesn’t feel so foolish. He turns to me again and says, “My boss bought fifteen copies of this book: one for everyone in the department.” That was my tipping point.
As much as I wanted to fly to Florida in peace, I know a good story when I see one. And this guy was on the edge of a doozy. I couldn’t let it pass without violating some cosmic law of storytelling. I asked the man a question that puzzled him, “Would you mind giving your boss a note from me?”
It was an odd request from a stranger on a plane. But what could he say? “Um, okay,” he answered, evidently confused. I took out a piece of note paper and drew Dogbert. Beneath it I wrote “Thanks for buying my book for your department,” and I signed it. I handed the note to the fellow on my left.
He looked at the note.
He looked at me.
He looked at the note again.
He looked at me.
He turned over the book, remembering it had a photo on the back.
He looked at my photo.
He looked at me.
He looked at the note.
He looked at me.
Words can’t describe the look on his face as the coincidence sunk in. He asked me if it was true and I confessed that it was. Somehow the guy to my right overheard. We talked, naturally, and they were both nice guys. I didn’t get much reading done on that flight. That was okay. You only get one chance to have your best story ever. I think it was worth it.
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Posted by: NeteBelalex | October 17, 2007 at 06:09 AM
Three phrases should be among the most common in our daily usage. They are: Thank you, I am grateful and I appreciate.
Posted by: fast size | August 06, 2007 at 01:01 AM
I was working in New Delhi, going to my apartment after office hours.
Was stuck in a huge traffic jam .. i was on my motorbike and didnt realise that my left foot was just infront of a mid sized car .. as soon as the signal turned green the car went over my foot. It didnt feel much of a pain at that moment .. but after a couple of minutes it started hurting badly.
I parked my bike besides a tea stall, had a cigarette and waited for some time. Luckily it wasnt much of an injury .. but thats exactly when my cell started ringing . My girlfriend who lives in a different city had called and the first words she spoke were "what happened to you ? r u ok? "
I couldnt believe it when she spoke .. I didnt tell her anything at that moment ... but told her about this whole story a couple of days later .. it still gives me goose bumps as there was nothing which happened throughout that day which could have compelled her to worry about me, and more so.. she never used to call me at that time of the day !! she just felt that something was wrong !!
ESP !! God Knows !!
Posted by: Abhinav | July 17, 2007 at 10:24 AM
Your post was heart-warming serendipity telling, Scott. Good on ya for sharing. And little did I know that one of my best stories would so quickly ensue (http://cheekiermesly.blogspot.com/2007/06/my-blag-is-horses-ass-or-best-stories.html). Would not have shared had I not read your post. Spanks!
Posted by: CheekierMeSly | June 27, 2007 at 01:57 PM
Hello,
My name is Ferran, I am an engineer, I work in a relatively big company developing mobile phones and I love Dilbert, everyday I get my good laughs reading it.
Well, I was reading the stories and thinking, you are right, some people just don’t realize all the great stories happening around all the time, and some people (like me) can be amazed with the smallest things (ability which I consider a gift)
I am also a story teller, maybe not the best, but I have a great time everytime I tell one of my stories, and normally people laugh too.
Here is one of my best stories ever:
Job interview for an internship.
I was still studying telecommunications in Barcelona (3rd year in the university) when I decided I wanted to get a job, so I went to the second biggest operator in Spain at that time: Retevision.
After preparing my first CV, trying to fill the 2 pages (supposedly ideal size of a CV) with whatever I could somehow consider close enough to "working experience" (such as "math personal teacher up to university level", this kind of stuff) I sent it out and crossed my fingers. After 1 week I got the call for an interview, so I wrote all the details down in the bloc next to the phone.
On the day of the interview I managed to forget the Note with all the details, so I arrived to 14 floors building (filled with Retevision people) and said something like:
-Hi, I have an interview here today.
-OK, with whom?
-I don’t remember, my name is Ferran Gomis, don’t you have it listed? (I didn't realize how stupid that was until now)
The receptionist laughed and very patiently explained to me I needed the name of the interviewer.
I went out and looked for a phone booth to call home (at that time I was still resisting to have a mobile phone), expecting I could still catch the cleaning lady that came once a week for 2 hours. She was there, so I could get the name of the interviewer and her extension number. I was so happy!
I went in again with a big smile because I managed to solve my big problem. I had the interview, a normal one, actually she (the interviewer) talked more than I did, and went home afterwards.
After one week I was thinking they would never call again, so I called asking if there were any news to "demonstrate interest on the job". I got a second appointment, this time with a big boss.
This time I wrote every detail down, twice. I talked to the already familiar receptionist and went in: "they will come for you in the second floor, out of the elevator to the right side there are 4 seats, just wait there" she said.
Walked into the elevator, pushed "2" and waited, it was one of these office building elevators, all metal and mirrors, I was so nervous time was expanding, seemed the longest elevator trip, I could hear my heartbeat.
Out of the elevator... to the right... there they are, the 4 seats. I sat down and waited...
10 minutes.
They might be busy...
20 minutes
Maybe they are testing me, trying to make me nervous?
30 minutes
Ok, now I am really nervous. I stood up and start looking around to see if someone was observing... nothing.
45 minutes, I approach the elevator again, didn’t know what else to do, and realized something was wrong, instead of "floor 2" it said "floor 9".
Oh shit!!!!
I went down to reception again, the 2 receptionists were all red-faced laughing, I was red-faced but not laughing.
-They are looking for you all over the building!!! Hahahaha, where were you??
-9th floor, I don’t know how...
They made me wait there, didn’t trust I could reach 2nd floor on my own anymore...
Someone came for me and we went to the second floor, as we were walking through the cubicles I noticed some people looking at me and laughing, "at least I gave them a good story" I thought.
I went into the room, the big boss came in too and after the presentations he asks:
-Are you nervous?
-Well, after what I just did, wouldn’t you be?
And we proceed with the interview. At some point he says:
-According to your CV you know PowerPoint, is that true?
-Well, I did attend a training 2 years ago and we did something with PowerPoint.
-Okay, if you have this kind of arrow (he draws in a paper) how would you stretch it?
-Mmmh, I should review...
-Okay, you don’t know Powerpoint.
After that interview, there was no human way, neither divine intervention that could help. But you know what? After one week they called me! I got the job!!
So I though: How would the others interviewees be like??...
The good point is I always had a very good relationship with the receptionists; I was like the funny guy :)
If you liked it I have some other good stories, now comes to my mind "The best breakup ever", and this is one night I will never ever forget in my life. I actually want to make a movie out of this story.
Congratulations for your success and thank you very much for letting me have one more laugh every day.
BR
Ferran
Posted by: Ferran | June 25, 2007 at 03:12 AM
I had something similar happen to me once.
I was sitting in business class on a BA flight from London to NYC. As an employee of BA, I am responsible for procurement of all of the in-flight items and have direct authority to approve new vendors.
The gentlemen next to me was sipping his pre take-off orange juice that the flight purser supplied. I told the gentlemen where BA bought the orange juice and mentioned where BA procured the glass that he was holding. He eyed me suspiciously, and didn't say anything.
Prior to take off, I spoke the words from the safety video in sync to the video and mentioned to the lady across the isle about some of the outtakes that occurred as marketing was shooting that particular video, and loudly exclaimed that next time we would probably use a different agency.
Later in the flight, I started shifting in my seat rapidly. The gentlemen sitting next to me eyed me again, and I mentioned that the seat had been endurance tested to withstand a great deal of shifting, and, in the event of a crash, a high impact. I also enlightened him about the types of bolts used to fasten the seat to the railing below our feet and how the seats were designed to slide forward during a crash to lessen a potential jolt, and how the fabric is intentionally fireproof.
He then turns to me, and asks, "Do you work for the airline or something?"
I grab the badge attached to the lanyard around my neck and point it in his direction and say calmly, "Director of Procurement"
You should have seen the look on his face...it was priceless.
Posted by: Khater | June 24, 2007 at 06:40 AM
The comment by "Boozeheimer" is about 900 words vs 643 for Scott's orignal post. Is this a record for a comment on the Dilbert Blog?
Posted by: Andrew Denny | June 23, 2007 at 04:11 PM
Hi Scott,
This is my first comment on your blog though I subscribe to your blogfeed and enjoy your scribblings everyday!
I am wondering if you would give me "my best story"!
I am come up with a name for a technical discussion forum in my company. We conducted a naming contest and one of the names that came up was "Technically Speaking". I instantly liked this and felt it somehow had a Dilbert ring to it!
I am wondering, just wondering if you would make a cartoon to go with the forum name .. "Technically Speaking" !! The technical forum would be a big hit with an original cartoon from THE office jokes cartoonist!
Being the 152nd comment in a celebrity blog, I know its a pretty wild attempt but who knows, may be you will decide to give me my best story and draw a cartoon for me?!
p.s. I can email my company name if you want to know where your cartoon is headed!
Thank you!
Posted by: Archikins | June 22, 2007 at 09:04 PM
I attended a poetry reading at the Albert Hall with my Mum when I was about 15. Allen Ginsberg gave a reading of some of his work. At one stage when someone else was on stage Ginsberg sat in the audience a few rows in front of us. My Mum tapped him on the shoulder and said "do you remember me?" "Sure..." he replied, and they exchanged pleasantries. She was referring back to the original beat days when he first visited London and had nowhere to sleep... and he stayed with my Mum!
Posted by: Matt Williams | June 22, 2007 at 05:26 PM
Have you ever met Wil Wheaton? It seems like you guys would like each other. I love his blog.
Posted by: Sasha | June 22, 2007 at 07:10 AM
My favorite (ok, my only) good celebrity story happened at the Playmate of the Year party in LA, probably in 1999 or so. I had scored an invite because a friend of mine works there; she lived in Chicago and knew no one in LA, so she brought me. The party was exactly as bad as you would expect-- a dozen or so really hot chicks, and a hundred or so horny guys standing around drinking. Some of those guys were famous; I got introduced to Scott Baio, of "Happy Days" and "Joanie loves Chachi" fame. After shaking his hand, I left him alone and went back to my drinking. I have my priorities.
So I was surprised when, a few minutes later, Scott came up to me and said, "Bart. How old are you?". My first response was to say, "older than you." But then I thought and added, "well, those shows were on a long time ago. Maybe not much older." We soon figured out that we were the same age. He continued: "Do you remember a show called "Baretta"? I said that I did, vaguely.
"Wasn't it about a detective who had some sort of exotic bird?" I asked.
"Yes," he said, "it was a Cockatoo. But do you remember who played the detective?"
"No. But was that bird's name? Geez, that's really going to bother me now."
"I don't know. But think-- can you remember who played the detective?"
All this while, he has sort of been shepherding me to a different part of the party, although I hadn't really realized it, nor had I noticed who else might be listening to his line of questioning. An easy mark, I continued, "Well," I said, "the guy never really did much else after that. He was pretty non-descript. I forget the guy's name."
That's how I remember it; I might have actually said that he was a one-hit wonder, or otherwise insulted him. I hope not-- but remember, I was drinking. And Scott had continued his steering me to just the spot he wanted me in.
"Bart, his name was Robert Blake," he said in a fairly loud voice. "Bart, I'd like you to meet Robert Blake."
I turned to see the man who since achieved renewed fame, Robert Blake. He was sitting at the bar, and flipping both of us off. He used the 3-finger technique, whereby the first and third fingers are bent up and displayed alongside the middle one, and he embellished it with an animated, pumping motion. He was half-smiling, but he really seemed pissed off.
Apparently, some people REALLY LIKE to be recognized.
Maybe that's why he killed his wife-- just to get the ink. And maybe it was my fault-- if I hadn't forgotten that crappy show, or focused on the bird, maybe he would have been a nicer person.
Scott Baio, to his credit, simply laughed, shook my hand, and told me that I had been a good sport and he appreciated me help him "bust his (Robert Blake's) chops" or something to that effect.
I did get to meet Hef, also, but I couldn't get too close; he was on Viagra that night.
Posted by: barton | June 21, 2007 at 04:03 PM
My brush with greatness happened in August of 1981 at the main entrance to the Sheraton in Pittsburgh, PA. I was a rather large 18-year-old at the time. My parents were driving me from Massachusetts to college in Terre Haute, IN., and we had stopped for the night. As we approached the door, several 10- to 12-year-olds opened and held the doors for us, scrutinizing my face for any sign that they recognized me. Each of them held a pen or pencil and either a notebook or autograph pad. To their credit, they showed little disappointment when they realized I wasn't one of their beloved Pittsburgh Steelers, who were staying in the same hotel prior to a pre-season game that weekend. As my Dad was checking us in, Franco Harris strolled past with a river of fans in his wake, signing autographs as he went.
Posted by: Nate | June 21, 2007 at 08:49 AM
On that note, although under more somber circumstances, as part of the 9-11 Pentagon rememberence ceremony (10-11-01) I was greeted by all forms of dignitaries and politicians. I was a military escort for family members of the victims, and since their place of honour in the ceremony was close to said dignitaries, former president Clinton greeted me, called me "sarge" (not a Marine phrase, mind you, and almost an insult as well) and gave me the weekest handshake ever. Not too impressed either way, I looked to my left, and said something to the effect of "Holy $#!+, is that Condi Rice?" as I walked away and left him hanging.
Posted by: Scott | June 21, 2007 at 07:24 AM
My best celeb story:
When I was a college freshman in Boston, one afternoon that spring my friend Ken and I had no classes, so we decided to go down to Quincy Market for some food and wandering about. Well, we were walking around outside when I spotted John Candy a ways off (he was in town for, I believe, the Hasty Pudding award that year, and he was wearing his award sash and with a couple of people). I pointed it out to Ken and we went on.
A while later we were inside one of the marketplace buildings, and as we came around a corner there he was, still with his entourage. Ken noticed, and closed the few steps left, grabbed his hand, and immediately started a monologue:
"John, how ya doin! I haven't seen you around here in ages - man, we have to do a better job keeping in touch!" And so forth, for about a minute of "long-lost-buddy" treatment. Then Ken simply let go of his hand and we walked on. No autograph, and not a word in edgewise from Candy whatsoever. He and the people with him were simply stunned.
I think that was far more entertaining than asking for an autograph. Though since he died a couple of years later (the movies still miss him), the autograph would have eventually scored good on eBay.
Posted by: jht | June 21, 2007 at 05:03 AM
You're now even more my hero for the way you handled that situation. You're such a nice guy! :)
Posted by: Drunk Bunny | June 21, 2007 at 04:58 AM
I was watching the Broadway play "The Goat, or, Who is Sylvia" by Edward Albee with my wife and a couple of friends.
We all happened to notice an older gentleman sit down in front of us... and he seemed oddly familiar. We all looked at our playbills, looked at him, and came to the conclusion that this was indeed Edward Albee himself. In fact, it's pretty well known that he attends all performances of his plays. So, at the end of the play, I ask him, "Excuse me sir, but are you Mr. Albee? You sure do look like him."
He says no, he gets that all the time. So, I said "Ok, well, sorry for the strange question."
A few months later, we're watching the Tony Awards, and the aforementioned play won an award. Who goes up to the podium to accept his trophy? The very man who denied he was Edward Albee.
Posted by: ctobio | June 20, 2007 at 07:40 PM
My best story happened when I was four years old. My mom went out the kitchen door onto the back porch steps, and at the bottom of the steps was a snake about 8 feet long. She goes back into the house, gets her butcher knife, and proceeds to knife the snake to death.
A couple hours later, the neighbor boy, age 8, shows up at our front door. I answer the door, and he says, "Has anybody seen my pet snake?"
That still cracks me up.
Posted by: Alice in Wonderland | June 20, 2007 at 01:21 PM
My favorite celebrity story:
During Watergate, my mother was in a parking lot and saw Mitchell walking towards her car, approaching from the front. Besides the political stuff, he had just done his wife wrong.
As he came alongside the car, she slammed her door open and caught him just below the waist...in the front...with a station wagon door.
"Oops."
Posted by: Ellen | June 20, 2007 at 10:30 AM
Scott,
Some years ago my wife was getting sent to a lot of conferences in her job and I would tag along. You were the keynote speaker at an Xplor conference in Orlando, and I brought my copy of The Dilbert Principle. After the talk (which was, of course, great), everyone lined up for autographs, and all these people were getting your sig on napkins, programs and other crap. I gave you my book to sign, and you looked up and exclaimed "Ah! A PAYING CUSTOMER!" :)
Posted by: Mike | June 20, 2007 at 08:23 AM
While making a connection through Kennedy (a while ago) I spotted the actor Robert Wagner, and pointed him out to my then-wife. "Look - it's Robert Wagner"
"Who?" she responded.
"Robert Wagner - you know; 'Hart to Hart'?" (it was QUITE a while ago)
She suddenly dashed across the concourse and got right up in his face, looking him up and down. He reacted with surprise (although his driver/bodyguard seemed rather tense)
She returned to my side, nodding. "You're right." she concluded. "It is him."
Trying not to snicker I asked: "Did you get his autograph?"
He face fell and she dashed off again, but luckily he'd already left the terminal...
Posted by: danbert | June 20, 2007 at 05:52 AM
Similargood story, Scott, when Iwas a newly-elected state senator in Massachusetts, maybe 73 or 74:
Returning from a speaking engagement in Gardner, I picked up a young couple hitchhiking. The guy studied me for a bit, then announced, “I know you!”
“You do?” I asked, puffing a bit
“Yeah,” he said, “You were the night watchman at Anwelt Shoe when I worked there!”
I burst out laughing. “You’re right,” I said, “But do you know what I’m doing now?
“Haven’t seen you since.”
“Well, I’m your State Senator.”
“Oh, yeah,” he replied, “I seem to remember you saying you were going for something.”
Senator Bob Hall—A legend in his own mind.
Posted by: Robert A. Hall | June 19, 2007 at 02:42 PM
"treading on the gerbil wheels like good little sheep"?
rofl
Posted by: notralph | June 19, 2007 at 02:22 PM
Scott,
I loved your story. Here's my best story:
I was 18 and working at an electronics store. One night, as I "zeroed out" the cash drawer, some guy came into the store and tried to grab the cash off the counter. I grabbed it back from him and shouted an obscenity. He ran out the door and I chased him. My manager came out of the back room just in time to see me running out the door. The thief jumped into the back door of a waiting car and sped off.
When I got back to the store, we immediately counted up the money and checks and the only thing missing was one check. Fortunately, we quickly determined it was a check belonging to one of our most frequent customers, so my manager called the man to ask him to cancel that check and write us a new one. The man looked in his checkbook, and there was the check, still in the checkbook. He and my manager had gotten carried away with some discussion during the transaction and neither one had noticed that the customer had failed to hand over the check.
So the thief got nothing. Bupkus. And I somehow managed to avoid getting killed or seriously injured chasing a criminal.
That was over 20 years ago, and I still get the chills thinking about the stupidity of chasing some guy who hadn't even successfully stolen something.
Posted by: Skeptical Fanboy | June 19, 2007 at 02:04 PM
Oh, wow... man, I need to get that book...
I have 14 (and counting), Dilbert books, but as far as the Business Anthology series, I have "Dogbert's Management Handbook" and "Day of the Weasel". It is a goal of mine to collect one of every Dilbert book in existance. It may not seem like many, but it's a big start since my mom bought be my first Dilbert books (5 of them) for Christmas. I know I'm only 25, (okay, I'm 24 and 7/8) but Dilbert reminds me so much of my job and prior jobs.
Scott Adams is the man. Thanks, Scott, for everything you do. While I'm thinking about it, 1989-1991 (I guess because you had just left your cubicle years), were your best (in my eyes) and some of the funniest material ever published. If you can, maybe you can rehash some jokes or perhaps bring back old (as possibly, recurring), characters.
Posted by: BTTFVGO | June 19, 2007 at 01:50 PM
I hate the oxymoron that is celebrity culture. I love this story:
My Grandma was in Las Vegas, during the run up to the '96 election.
She spots Teddy Kennedy, approaches him, and says 'Hey, you're Teddy Kennedy, aren't you?'
Kennedy visibly preens at being recognised by an admirer, and responds in the affirmative.
'In that case,' replies the little old lady, 'What the hell are you doing in Vegas when you should be out campaigning for Clinton?!'
The look on Kennedy's face was beyond price...
Posted by: Dan Summerbell | June 19, 2007 at 01:04 PM