6/7

As a 61-year-old man there are plenty of things that get by me.

I use it to poke fun at the younger guys on the work site, taking jabs at their music choices.

“What’s this rap song called, ‘Go f**k yourself?’”

Much of the rap music is angry and contains some explicit language.

There is one kid who is fascinated by the fact that I’m older and I chide him about what he likes. I’ve told him stories of the 90’s, which he missed because he wasn’t here yet.

“By the time you were born I needed rehab,” I said.

Well, he took the OSHA 10-hour class for the first time.

“How was it?” I asked.

“6/7,” he said.

“What?” I asked.

“6/7.”

I just looked at him. He laughed.

“You know, you’re usually senseless, but ‘6/7’ doesn’t answer my question.”

Another guy overhearing it, laughed.

“They say 6/7 to everything,” he said. “It’s annoying as hell.”

“What does it mean?” I asked.

The young kid shrugged.

The other guy said, “No one knows. It’s nonsensical.”

I was fascinated.

It reminded me of the time when my boys would say, ‘Bet’ any time that I asked them a question.

“I can’t believe you never heard of 6/7,” the kid said. He was wearing a wide grin.

“You don’t even know what the hell it means!”

6/7.

The world has passed me by…

…I don’t know any new music.

…I’m not privy to special little phrases.

(Evidently 6/7 means so-so or something along those lines - at least that’s the official word but even GROK (which is another new term) admits that it doesn’t mean much at all.

It’s a good thing I only have about 50 years left.