"What does your husband do?" people ask me.
This is how it starts.
"He's a numismatist," I tell them, with a knowing smile that says, Don't worry. Nobody else knows what that means, either.
"A wot?" they say.
"He catalogs ancient Greek and Roman coins for an auction firm."
And suddenly, as if my words have put them under a spell, they could not be more fascinated. I have never met someone who didn't think Bill's job was sooo innn-teresting. No one's ever like, "A-HAAA, WHAT A NERD." (Except me, obviously. I can't let him get a swelled head. I don't think he realized how cool people would find his career, like he's a mix between Indiana Jones and Scrooge McDuck. If he ever figures it out, he'll drop me for sure!)
This happens all the time -- in airports, at the park, in the grocery store checkout line. Even this morning, while I was cringing through a gynecology exam, my doctor told me about the time she and her family took a trip to Jordan, and the people there were just digging things up out of the ground and selling them, so she bought some ancient coins.
"They're probably not valuable," she said, "but maybe I should ask your husband about them!"
I didn't want to tell her that, more than likely, her coins were fakes. I really like my doctor, and I didn't want to disappoint her. Plus, she had me in a bit of an uncomfortable position, and I was irrationally worried that she'd take my clothes and run off. Not that those gowns aren't flattering (and so freeing!), but it's 38 degrees outside.
"If I give you his email," I said, "could we maybe get back to the exam? It's...well, it's a little cold in here."
Then, desperate to change the subject, I asked what she did for a living and she was like, "...This." So all in all, one of my top three gynecology exams ever.