My Nickname is "Momma," His Nickname Is...

Big Daddy works in a very “male heavy” environment, so subsequently, everybody has a nickname. Some of the nicknames are “public knowledge,” others are not so much. A guy named “Tom” who sports a big, thick ‘80’s mustache is nicknamed: “Magnum,” as in, “P.I.”

.” He doesn’t know this, because basically they are just making fun of the ‘stache, however, in my opinion, there are worse names to be called behind your back. Like “Nimrod,” “Lunchbox” or “Registered Sex Offender.” Big Daddy is one of the lucky (?!) ones whose nickname is workplace lore.

Most of what Andrew tells me about work is about how this part is working or that part is not working; he keeps the employee relations to himself. I don’t really ask, either. I went to college. I know what happens when you get a bunch of dudes together. I know the inner workings of fraternities. I’m just happy he doesn’t come home talking about sword fighting. Goo.

So when he came home and announced, “Guess what happened at work today?” with a shit-eating smirk on his face, I panicked, thinking FOR SURE it involved duct tape…

“I went down the “parts” department, and I found out my nickname…”

Oh no, sighed my inner-voice. What cruel name have they labeled my husband with? You know me…always thinking the worst, always surprised when it’s not.

“Well, there’s this lady down there named Peaches and when I walked in today she smiled and clapped her hands…

‘SUPERMAN!’ Peaches squealed in delight… ‘Oh Superman! What can I get for you today, Superman?’”

Andrew went on to describe how Peaches summoned not less than 5 of her co-workers to corroborate the belief that Big Daddy looks exactly like Superman, personified. Or, if little else, twinsies with the Man of Steel.

Of course I got a huge kick out of that because who wouldn’t want to be married to Superman?! After all, he’s ALWAYS been my Superman, even if I was too simple to see the likeness. I had never put the two together until Peaches brought the striking resemblance to the forefront…The kids and I always thought Andrew looked like the Brawny Man (as pointed out by our Publix grocery checker…)

(I’m just sayin’ (and if you know Big Daddy, you are too!))

But, the nickname was cinched after Big Daddy’s first business trip to the plant in Mexico. Hundreds of miles apart, with totally separate teams of co-workers; separated by not only by geography, but also by a language barrier, a new and totally unique nickname was forged by the Latino workers. Upon returning to the States, Andrew used the same shit-eating smirk as he addressed me with the words, “Guess what they call me in Mexico?”

Immediately hopping on the obvious answer, I replied, “Superman?” But my guess was rejected.

The correct answer?

Clark Kent.

No Shit.