Last week Senor and Skeeter and I were thinking up good excuses for playing hooky from work. We touched on all the usual ones -- car trouble, pet problems, dental appointments -- and agreed that while these will do, one excuse trumps them all: “bad chili.”
With the other stories, you might be asked for further information and find yourself spontaneously elaborating upon your fiction, perhaps not very well. However, if you call in to work and say you got hold of some bad chili, the conversation is over. No one wants to know more. It’s code for “don’t ask, don’t tell,” and everyone is happy to play along.
I know many couples have private signals, either verbal or gestural, that indicate “I want to leave this boring party now” or “You’re doing that thing again. Stop it.” The ex and I had one we used when talking on the phone from work, an everyday phrase that didn’t reveal the personal nature of the conversation. If either of us worked “standing up” into a sentence, it meant that the boss had popped in and we had to get off the phone immediately, no questions asked.
With my friend the late Ms. Aardvark, who in pre-e-mail days used to call me long-distance from her job, the code in that situation was “Can I get your fax number?” She’d even go so far as to write down a string of digits, usually my phone number, and politely end the call. A couple times my phone rang again a few minutes later, with the telltale sound of a fax transmission coming over the line; Big Brother was watching with an eagle eye, and she was obliged to play out the scene.
I’ve even heard of friends working under tight scrutiny sending e-mail messages consisting of white text on a white background. The words become visible only when selected or highlighted by the mouse (try it!) and therefore can’t be read by nosy coworkers or hovering supervisors. That’s not quite code, but still an example of private communication. Oh, what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive!
Got code? Share!