Niiiiiiine to Eleven!

It was at the end of a hot summer day in college that I got to hear the ‘company headache’ make a fool of himself in front of everyone. I will never forget that summer.

Before I go on, this guy was a walking headache. Literally. Everyone who worked for Facilities Services agreed that this man was painfully difficult to work with, let alone know.

I was working for the campus painter at the time, and because it was agonizingly hot outside, he asked me to lay down in the paint shop until the shift ended. I obliged and the painter left his walkie-talkie on the counter then headed out the door.

The staff at the Facilities Services Department identified themselves on the radio by numbers. The boss of the department was 1, the painter was 2, a lucky employee was 13, and so on.

After a minute or two of letting the air conditioner return my skin to normal human temperatures, the walkie-talkie broadcast this:

“Niiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine to eleven!”

Mr. Eleven then asked what was going on, to which Nine stammered then said he needed help. After a good laugh, I heard this:

“Niiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine to eleven!!! Have you seen my wheelbarrow? I have to find my wheelbarrow!”

Nine then went on to bark out frantic orders about finding his wheelbarrow, which was urgent because our shift was about to end!

To this day I will never forget the time a walking headache had a borderline meltdown in front of everyone, over a wheelbarrow.

Do I still laugh hysterically when someone says “niiiiine to eleven!” or even says it calmly, “9 to 11”? Yes, yes I do!