Fact checker

Unless one has perfected the subtle art of comic timing, it is extremely difficult to relate a story these days. There are just too many interruptions that crop-up to derail the recounting at every stage. If the listeners are paying attention in the first place, that is. Which in most cases they are not because everybody is busy with social networking on their smartphones. 

But in the very rare instance of there being an attentive audience, someone or the other dutifully takes on the self-appointed task of fact checking. We all know such people; they abound in large numbers within our group of family, friends and colleagues. 

They are otherwise harmless persons, who would never, in the normal course of things, speak up in a community gathering. They generally keep their thoughts to themselves and are the non-interfering sorts. But when they are faced with a relative or acquaintance narrating an anecdote, which they have also witnessed, their inner fact checker comes alive, so to speak. And they make it their solemn duty to correct every little detail of what they think is the truth. 

So, for instance, if the storyteller says: “You know what happened last Wednesday?” he or she will cut in to say: “Listen, it was Tuesday, not Wednesday”. 

The storyteller would apologise and continue, “Sorry, last Tuesday when I was driving to Petra, you know what happened?”, and the fact checker would say: “You were driving to the Dead Sea and not Petra.” 

The storyteller would again apologise and say: “I’m really sorry, last Tuesday when I was driving to the Dead Sea, right after lunch, what happened was,” and the fact checker would once again interrupt and say: “It was after breakfast, not lunch.”

Despite the apologies, the listener does not get even a drift of what the storyteller wants to relate because the fact checker goes through it with a fine-tooth comb and interrupts the story at every stage. 

There are so many disruptions before the comic situation is narrated that both parties give up midway. In all honesty, if the punch line is that a cop’s car broke down and he had to ask for a lift, it does not matter if it happened on a Tuesday or some other day of the week. 

Also, whether the narrator ate breakfast on his/her way to Petra or lunch before leaving for the Dead Sea does not change anything because these are trivial details that do not contribute to the joke in any way. 

Hence unfortunately, the hilarious scene that was the sight of two cops in uniform with armed pistols, flagging a motorist to ask for a ride, remains untold. 

Over the years I learned to spot a fact checker from a mile away. They were the ones who were busy amending all the inconsequential aspects painstakingly and always missing the big picture. I do not have much patience with them and if I were faced with one I would clam up instantly. 

“On my last flight to London the steward served my pre-ordered meal to someone else,” I told my spouse recently. 

“Last to last flight you mean,” my husband corrected. 

“Yes,” I answered shutting up immediately. 

“What did you do?” he wanted to know. 

“Nothing,” I mumbled. 

“Ok, like you said, on your last flight to London, when your preordered meal went to someone else, what happened?” my spouse, who was politeness personified, said. 

“I was gifted a complimentary bottle of champagne,” I smiled. 

“Liquid diet?” he asked, smiling back.