After being threatened with an escort of thugs out the building, I was given a “Pass” that I was to wear during my visit to PCH. The so-called “Pass” was really a nametag that said: “Hello, my name is….” Then the powers that be stamped on it 382, the number of the building, and not my name.
I left the pass on my shirt, since I was coming back after a very pleasant lunch and figured that would help me get back into the building. We collect our lunch party and headed off to a great little Italian restaurant, had our lunch and paid our bill.
As we left the restaurant, two gentlemen were entering and as they passed us, one commented after looking at my pass and said: Is your name 382????
“Yes” I replied, my Mother had so many children she started to number us. But I must say, she’s still in great shape.
True story.
Sorry the headline is longer than the story
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