We’ve all been victims of the “to make a long story short” scam. The short version always comes after the long story has already been told. It’s never even hinted at up front. By the time I’m offered the short story, I‘ve lost the ability to care.Sometimes, after telling the whole story right up to the ‘punch line,’ the perpetrator will even say, “long story short,” as if saving me one second by eliminating three little words is going to help shorten the already epic tale.
Recently, I was the unwitting victim of this ruse by a woman who is really little more than an acquaintance. She shouldn’t be telling me stories at all. I see her only two or three times a month, but she is a pleasant enough woman so I listened politely. To protect her identity, I’ll call her Sam. Sam is short for Samantha, but that is another long story.
After a casual greeting, Sam said, “I have to tell you a story. You may not believe it, but…”
And so it starts. She launches into a tale about her friend's recent trip to Las Vegas. Sam didn’t accompany her on this trip, but she felt the need to detail her relationship with her friend before getting to the point. I found myself listening to a story about someone I don’t know, told by someone I barely know. It better be good.
I was to learn that Sam and her friend grew up together. They went to school together. They were the best of friends. Even after life took them in different directions, and different parts of the country, they remained close. After all these years, they still occasionally visited each other, and although Sam didn’t accompany her friend this time, they frequently went to Las Vegas together. I had to listen to the reasons she didn’t go.
Although it seemed endless, I politely listened to the entire 50-year history of their friendship without revealing my lack of interest.
I suffered through the details of why her friend always stayed at the same hotel, and why she always played the same slot machine. Mind-numbing details.
Finally, after what seemed like 15 minutes, she said, “To make a long story short…”
What? There was a short version all along? Why am I just now hearing about it? It came about 15 minutes too late. I had very little interest at the beginning. Now I have none. I don’t even want to hear the ending now, but I have 15 minutes of my life invested in it.
Here’s her short version: Her friend went to Vegas, played her favorite slot machine and won $10,000. The next morning she went to the casino next door, and on her favorite slot machine there, she won $10,000 again.
Even that is a condensed version of what actually followed her “to make a long story short” announcement. With all my ranting, this article will be shorter than the story I endured.
There is simply no way to make a long story short after already telling the long story. It’s impossible. It just makes the long story longer. It’s a serious violation of the conservation of energy clause in the laws of physics.
By the end of Sam’s tale, I knew more about her friend than I knew about Sam. Absolutely nothing in the story that led up to her friend’s two big wins had anything to do with the point of the story, which was of course, the two big wins.
As much as I hate the “yadda, yadda, yadda,” I found myself begging for it. “My friend…yadda, yadda, yadda…won twenty grand!”
Here is the actual story: “My friend went to Vegas and won two $10,000 jackpots playing slot machines.”
That’s it. That’s the whole tale! That is all you need to tell me. I don’t know your friend. I barely know you. I really don’t even care about the short story, I certainly don’t want to hear an unrelated backstory.
If you have a short version, please tell it. On the rare occasion that I want more details, I will ask. “Oh, please. Tell me more. I don’t have a life. Don’t leave anything out!”
Here is the real slap in the face. Even after subjecting me to both the extended version and the short version, there was one thing she left out of the story—a vital piece of information—the one question everyone wanted to ask. After her big wins, did Sam’s friend keep playing the slot machines, lose all her winnings, and go home penniless?
That would have been a great ending. It would almost have made the whole story worth listening to. I really wanted to ask, too, but I was terrified at the prospect of another long-winded narrative.
“No. She packed up that morning and left Vegas with all her winnings. She has lived in Yakima, Washington for nearly 25 years, and she always seemed to… yadda, yadda, yadda…”
Scott Wright © 2017