My Cross to Bare

There I was, sitting in a Mexican restaurant in Old Town surrounded by 50 project managers (as usual, 95% men) from all over the world - San Diego, Mabank, Belgium, Switzerland, Egypt, Malaysia, Singapore, and Australia of course.  It's fairly normal for mariachi bands to wander around singing songs, but for some reason tonight it was a little old white man with a guitar.  This guy didn't sing the normal Spanish songs.  No.  Of all the songs in the world, he decided to sing 'Oh, Susana.'  Little did he know there was a Suzannah in the room. 

Now clearly from the spelling these are two different names, but no one else seemed to mind the obvious difference and everyone started staring at me.  This of course made me turn bright red.  Then they all joined in, a room full of coworkers singing to me that I shouldn't cry for them. 

This is my cross to bare.  I have always hated this song - almost as much as I have always disliked people staring at me.  These two seem to naturally happen together - whenever someone sings this silly song, everyone looks at me.  But as annoying as this song is, it was absolutely priceless hearing a room of grown men, most of whom I had just met this week, singing me a song.


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