The Birth of “Fun Tom”

by Thomas M. Pender

I’m not a real drinker, nor even a “partier,” but I do enjoy going to social gatherings.  I generally have a great time, just talking and joking with people.  Over the years, I’ve learned that the people around me have a good time, too.  I’m at ease in a crowd, I like meeting and entertaining people, and I love to laugh.  This has helped me whenever I’m in situations with new crowds, be it a new city, a new job or just a new social circle.

A few years ago, I got introduced to a new circle of friends through one particular local buddy when he held a gathering at his house.  I knew a couple of people there, but the majority of the soiree was made up of strangers.  Still, the strangers were having fun, so I mingled well.  At some point, the topic turned to pets and/or dogs, and my friend the host suggested I tell everyone a story about a childhood dog.  It was a tale he had heard a few times, and which I have told countless times, because it seems to be universally entertaining.  My friend made this suggestion loud enough that the roomful of relative strangers turned en masse to face me.  This would probably make a great deal of people nervous, but I just saw a sea of ears foreign to my oft-told tale.  All that were missing were a spotlight and a microphone, but I went into my animated yarn as though they were present.

By the time the five-minute story was over, strangers were friends.  They appeared to be pleased that my friend had invited me, and a feeling of family swarmed around me.  This, I suspect, was my friend’s motive all along.

Not very long after I had concluded by anecdote, one woman in the crowd pointed at me and loudly declared, “Fun Tom!”  I thought this was a little overboard after telling only one decent story.  For all they knew, it was my only decent story!  Still, the feeling of acceptance was amplified, and I dug the new silly nickname.

Afterward, whether at another gathering, or merely coming into contact with one of the people I was introduced to that night, it became ritual for someone to declare at outdoor-voice level, “Fun Tom!”  Juvenile and unnecessary and over-the-top?  Yes.  Appreciated and flattering and awesome?  Definitely!

Reputation is a bizarre animal.  You never know when or how you’re going to gain a reputation, nor if it will be positive or negative; such things are impossible to control.  If I had fallen and hit my face on the kitchen counter at this first gathering, or made a pass at someone’s wife, or answered some long-pondered group question off the top of my head, I would have earned a completely different reputation for each scenario.  If nothing so dramatic had happened at all, I probably wouldn’t have one.  It certainly isn’t crucial to have one in order to enjoy a group of friends.  Still, if I’m going to gain a lightning-quick reputation that will last for a few years among a crowd of people I enjoy, being known as “fun” is probably one of the best accidents I’ve ever had in front of an audience.