I got a nickname after I moved to Houston. My husband had gotten transferred to Houston with his company and worked downtown at the corporate headquarters. His co-workers were a great group whom he was just getting to know. Every day he came home telling me stories of the folks he worked with. He was happy he had such a nice and lively group. Michael had left behind his friends from Cleveland and had become the new kid at school. Feeling very sad about leaving his friends, he went to work wondering if he would be lucky enough to have the same caliber of great work friends he had at his old job. Lightening had struck again for him and the group he worked with were fun, energetic and inclusive. Michael was happy in his new job and just as before we began to socialize with the group.
One particular work friend was a loud, funny guy named John. He had things to say all the time about every subject under the sun. He teased everybody and made the group laugh at his antics. John is an excellent human being. Beyond his ridiculous rhetoric lies the heart of a kind and gentle man.
John noticed that Michael packed his lunch everyday and decided to scrutinize it's contents. Michael has been a healthy work out, eat right, take good care of yourself guy all his life. He packs his own lunch and has since his early days with the company. He has never once asked me to pack his lunch for him. He does an excellent job taking care of himself.
Mistakenly, a habit of his, John thought I packed Michael's lunch and began criticizing the contents and the portion size. Every day Michael would get his lunch and John would peruse the food and tell Michael I was trying to starve him to death. Every day Michael would tell John he packed his own lunch with no effect. "She's tryin' to kill you, Mike! A man can't live on that little lunch. I think she's trying to starve you to death!" John would go on and on about my death wish for my husband by way of starvation. This morphed into Michael's wife being called The Killer . "She's Kellie The Killer, man. She is trying to do you in!"John would say to anyone who would listen.
The nickname had begun to increase in popularity after I called John and let him know that not only had I not packed Michael's lunch, but I thought any man who expected that was weak and stupid. John and I started hurling friendly insults back and forth from that moment on.
I knew I would keep that nickname forever one night when we all agreed to go to a ballgame at Minute Maid park. John and I were meeting for the first it me face to face with all the rest of the office group. Immediately he started on my case about being The Killer and how I was starving skinny, little Mike. I am not shy or quiet. I fought back pointing to his pregnant belly and slow response time to my jabs. Verbal debate is a favorite hobby of mine and I have never backed down from a fight. Whatever I lack in physical strength, I make up for in word brawn. John kept trying to come at me from every angle and I kept batting back my own home run hits. At one point in the evening I got him so good he was stunned into silence. The group fell out into fits of laughter and jeers at John. Evidently I did the one thing no one had ever accomplished. I shut John up. That was the moment I earned the nickname The Killer. From that point on, that night was referred to as the Massacre at Minute Maid!
Everyone at the office knows I am The Killer. No one calls me Kellie anymore. The new hires don't even know I have a first name. The Killer is who I will remain long after Michael retires.
The nickname makes me laugh. I have never had a nickname that stuck before this. I had always envied people who had names given to them out of familiarity and love. I finally had a nickname that stuck like cement and celebrated the day I verbally kicked John's sizable behind.
( I say sizable because we currently have a battle to see who will lose the most weight. My blog, my interpretation!)
Every party I go to and every social gathering with the group I am introduced as The Killer. I feel honored to have slain Puffy the Over Bloated Dragon. I wear my nickname like a badge of honor.
If you happen to see me on the street and someone yells," there's The Killer!" Just know it is meant with love and affection and I am more than happy to acknowledge and to respond to it, waving wildly and smiling the entire time.