I Thought Nobody Was Watching!

A reading edition of Corey’s original episode, lightly edited for readability. Listen to the story →

Howdy friends, welcome back to the Roundup. I'm Corey Moser. I've been thinking about something lately. Have you ever looked back on something you did years ago and wondered what in the world I was thinking?

I have more times than I'd probably care to admit. And the funny thing is, whatever I was doing at the time usually seemed like a perfectly reasonable idea. At least to me. I've always had a pretty active imagination.

And every once in a while something will pop into my head that I just can't leave alone. And you'd think after fifty some odd years on this earth, I'd developed a little better judgment. And maybe I have, but I wouldn't bet a whole lot of money on it. Anyway, today's story takes us back quite a few years, when my son Nate was younger.

And it all started with an ordinary afternoon at home. Nothing unusual was happening until I got an idea. And you'll discover that's sometimes where my troubles begin. I've always loved rodeos.

There's something about watching a cowboy climb onto the back of a bucking bull that gets your attention. If you think about it, here's a guy willing to strap himself onto an animal that weighs nearly a ton, and would very much prefer that he wasn't there. And somehow, if he can stay on for eight seconds, everybody cheers. I've ridden horses for much of my life, but bull riding, that's a different kind of crazy.

And yet I've watched those guys over the years and thought, that kind of looks fun. Which probably tells you something about my judgment right there. Well, one afternoon, I was at home with my son Nate. We were in the living room, and I don't remember exactly what prompted it, but I started thinking about bull riding.

And then something caught my attention. The armrest. Of our couch. Now I don't know what kind of furniture you have at your house, but ours apparently came with a feature that wasn't advertised when we purchased it.

Because when I looked at that armrest, I didn't see a piece of furniture. I saw a mechanical bull. Now I realize that doesn't make a whole lot of sense, but at the time it made perfect sense to me. And before I had much opportunity to reconsider it, I climbed aboard.

Now I wasn't just sitting there rocking gently back and forth. Uh-uh. I was committed to this performance. I had one hand waving in the air and I was hooting and hollering like I was competing in the National Finals rodeo.

In my imagination, I wasn't in the living room anymore. I was in a packed arena and the crowd was going wild. Ladies and gentlemen, coming out of chute number four, it's Corey Moser. He's drawn one of the meanest bulls in the competition.

Let's see if he can make eight seconds. And there I was, rocking back and forth on the couch, swinging my free arm around like I knew exactly what I was doing. Yeehaw! Come on, big fella.

He's hanging on, folks. I think we may have a new world champion. Now Nate was standing there watching his dad, and I've often wondered what was going through his mind. Because from his perspective, there wasn't a bull.

There wasn't a rodeo arena, it was just dad riding the furniture, and apparently having the time of his life. I was having a wonderful time until Nate spoke up. Dad? Yeah, Nate.

did you know mom is in the other room? Will that change things? You see, at the time I was married to my first wife, and she was a very refined person who appreciated things being done properly. There was a certain expectation of how people should behave.

And I'm reasonably certain that riding the living room furniture like a mechanical bull wasn't included in her definition of acceptable household conduct. So when Nate delivered that little piece of information. My entire rodeo career came to an abrupt conclusion. In my imagination the announcer suddenly went silent, and I became acutely aware that I was a grown man sitting on the armrest of a couch.

She's in the other room. Now I don't remember whether I actually said that out loud, but I can certainly remember the feeling, because suddenly I wasn't nearly as interested in finishing my eight second ride. And I did what any brave, fearless cowboy would do under those circumstances. I got off the couch, very quietly, and I went to the basement.

I didn't ask Nate whether his mom had seen me, and I didn't stick around to find out. I just decided that the basement seemed like a really attractive place to spend some time. And down I went. Now I've thought about that over the years, and I still believe Nate could have warned me a little sooner.

I mean he'd been standing there the whole time. He knew what was happening. And apparently he was perfectly content to watch his dad make a complete spectacle of himself until he decided to deliver that little piece of information. Dad, did you know mom is in the other room?

Thanks, Nate. I appreciate that. Next time, perhaps you could mention it before I climb aboard the livestock. Now you'd think an experience like that would teach a man to be a little more careful, maybe check who's nearby before putting on an impromptu performance.

But apparently I didn't learn quite enough. Because some years later I found myself in another situation, and this one happened at work. At the time I was managing a mortgage office. We had several loan officers working there, and one morning I arrived early, which was generally my routine.

The office was quiet, I didn't see anybody around, and as far as I knew, I had the place to myself. Now I don't know about you, but when I'm alone, I tend to relax a little. And sometimes when I'm in a particularly good mood, I'll start entertaining myself. So on this particular morning, I was in a very good mood, and somewhere along the way, a song popped into my head.

A song from Les Misérables. Now, if you're familiar with that musical, it's not exactly the kind of music you casually hum while you're walking to the refrigerator. It's dramatic. And apparently, I was feeling dramatic.

So I started singing, and I wasn't holding back. Uh-uh. I was giving the performance everything I had. Now here's where things get a little crazy.

I was singing both parts of a duet by myself. Which if you've ever attempted, it's actually rather challenging. You gotta switch between the voices. And apparently I believed I was qualified to do both.

Now picture me sitting at my desk, working on mortgage documents, singing away like I'm performing on Broadway. And I'm really enjoying myself. At some point I finished preparing some paperwork and sent it to the printer. The printer was in the adjoining room, so I got up to retrieve the documents.

And naturally, I kept singing. Why wouldn't I? As far as I knew, I was alone and I was approaching the grand finale. You know that moment in a musical where everything builds towards the final note?

When the performer gives everything they've got. Well, I was right there walking toward the doorway, and I was giving this performance everything I had. I'd like to demonstrate exactly what I sounded like that morning. But I've learned a few things since then.

Apparently, singing copyrighted Broadway music on a podcast can get you in a little trouble. And considering this story is about embarrassing myself in front of people, I'd rather not add a letter from an attorney to the experience. So you'll just have to use your imagination. But picture me walking through the doorway, singing at the absolute top of my lungs.

Holding this magnificent final note like I'm auditioning for Broadway. And just as I finished, I stepped into the room, looked up, and there sitting at his desk was one of my loan officers, and across from him were two customers, all three of them looking at me, laughing. Isn't that wonderful? Apparently my Broadway debut had been open to the public, and nobody had bothered to tell the star of the show.

Now I don't know how long they'd been listening. Maybe they'd heard the whole thing, maybe they'd only caught the grand finale, but I can only imagine what those poor customers were thinking. They came in to talk about a mortgage, and instead they got a one man production of Les Misérables. And I wasn't even charging admission.

Now I want you to imagine being one of those customers. You've come into a mortgage office to discuss financing a home. You're sitting there having a perfectly normal conversation with your loan officer, and suddenly from somewhere else in the building, you hear a man singing at the top of his lungs. And then at that exact moment the song reaches its dramatic conclusion.

The manager of the office appears in the doorway, performing a Broadway duet by himself. Now I don't know what those customers were thinking. I've occasionally imagined how the conversation might have gone before I walked into the room. Is somebody singing?

yeah. Who is that? That's Corey. Does he always do that?

Well, he is the manager. Of course, I don't know whether they actually said anything like that. I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall. Because I can only imagine what it must have sounded like from the other side of the office.

And there I was standing in the doorway, having just delivered what I believed was a magnificent performance. Now I had a decision to make, and this is where the story takes a very different turn from the one on the couch. Because this time I didn't run for the basement. I decided that if I was going to embarrass myself, I might as well do it properly.

So I walked over to the printer. Picked up my papers, turned toward my unexpected audience, and I saluted them. That's right, I saluted them. As though I just finished a perfectly normal performance.

And though this was something we offered all our customers. Welcome to our mortgage office. Would you care for a complimentary Broadway musical while we prepare your loan documents? And then I turned around and walked toward my office.

But here's my favorite part of the whole thing. I kept singing. I figured why stop now? They'd already heard me.

They'd already seen me. And frankly, I was having a good time. So I just carried on. I don't know whether those customers ever came back.

I don't know whether they went home and told their families about the singing mortgage guy, but I hope they got a good laugh out of it. And maybe. Just maybe they remembered our office a little more fondly because of it. Or perhaps they went home and said, Honey, I think we should get a second opinion on that mortgage.

I suppose we'll never know. I still laugh when I think about those experiences, because they happened at different times in my life, but they remind me of something I've always enjoyed having a little fun, even when it doesn't make much sense to anybody else. I wouldn't necessarily recommend riding your living room furniture, and I'm certainly not suggesting that mortgage offices need more Broadway performances. Although come to think of it, that might make the mortgage business a little more entertaining.

But I do hope I never get to the point where I'm so worried about what other people think that I stop enjoying those silly moments. Because some of my favorite memories are the ones I never planned. Like the day Nate casually informed me that my rodeo performance might have been witnessed by somebody else who wasn't likely to appreciate it. Or the morning I discovered that my mortgage office had an audience for my musical debut.

And I think the funniest part is how differently I handled those situations. In one I made a hasty retreat. In the other, I saluted the audience and kept singing. Now I don't know whether that means I've become a little more comfortable with myself as I've gotten older, or whether I've simply stopped worrying quite so much about looking foolish.

Maybe a little of both. But either way, I'm glad those moments happened, because now I have the stories to tell. And that's part of why I started the Roundup. I want to preserve these memories for my family.

And if somebody else gets a good laugh out of them along the way, that's even better. So if you've ever found yourself in one of those situations where you thought nobody was watching, only to discover that you had an unexpected audience, I'd love to hear about it. And if you're enjoying these stories, I'd sure appreciate you following the podcast and sharing it with somebody who might enjoy a good laugh. You can find the roundup at CoreyMoser.

com. We'll be back with another story next Tuesday. I'm Corey Moser. Thanks for spending a little time with me here at the Roundup.

And before I go, let me leave you with one final thought. Sometimes life catches you doing something completely ridiculous. And when that happens, you can run for the basement or you can salute the audience and finish the song. And you know what?

I think whenever possible, we ought to choose the second one. See you next Tuesday.