Old. Again.

Amy (I'm using the most conventional spelling - if you met Amy you might guess Aimee or aMe or some unusual spelling. She looks the type.), my coffee barista, has never heard of M.A.S.H. 

 Well, not to say never as in never ever, but she thinks her mom used to watch it. Nice. 

This connection occurred to me, of course, because of B.J.

 Amy - "So does J.P. mean something?" 

 J.P. No not really, he just shows up for work in this rote kind of fashion, buying coffee on the basis of an arcane schedule, and passing the time until he can play video games again, or maybe chase his kids around. - "Yes. Jean-Paul." 

 Amy - "Oh, John Paul." 

 J.P. - "No, no. JEAN-Paul, the French way. It's not like B.J." I am convinced I am being entirely clever with this. This happens a lot. The being convinced of my cleverness. Not the actually being clever.

 Amy - slightly confused look - "B.J. ?" 

 J.P. - Makes query face. "Yeah, you know B.J. on M.A.S.H." 

 Amy - "Mash? Oh, I think my mom used to watch that." 

 J.P. - "Your... mum." eyes narrowing slightly 

 Amy - "Yeah. No, wait, I'm not trying to say you're old as my mom..." 

 Of course you're not, Amee. 

 Of course you're not.

This post was revised in 2022. It's better. Trust me. Or not, I'm not the boss of you.