Hero Worship

Most of us, many of us anyway, have heroes. My dad is my hero, I say with pride. But some people forget that even terms like hero can be used hyperbolically. And uncomfortably.

For example there's this plumber, I'll call him Cloyce just to give him a name, who, no matter what he's getting at the Shop, tells me and me brother Phil, "You're my heroes." 

Um, thanks, but we're not. We simply sold you a cutting tool, dude.

It might not bother me so much in a more desperate situation. If Cloyce had burst into the old barn in a panic because his machine quit while he had a hundred and twenty feet of cable lodged in a drain and needed a repair fast and we were able to do that, I'd get the sudden exclamation, "You're my heroes!" But when he says 'you're my hero' for run of the mill stuff, well, it's borderline creepy to me. At least how he says it, that is.

Maybe that just Cloyce's way. Still, I actually shuddered while typing this blog out this morning.