Tuesday, March 08, 2005
The Return of Billy
Okay, I really wanted to write more about France or, more specifically, what we did in France. However, the whole chronology of things has been thrown off completely, so I'm going to continue writing in the present, if that's okay with everyone. Perhaps a Special Out-of-Sequence Paris Weekend Blog Spectacular is in order. Also, if anyone's got a good idea for the next poll, feel free to let me know, either in the comments section or at MesteeBlogger@Gmail.com.
Today, a bad thing happened. I was getting on the commuter rail, when I heard "Hey Brian!" in a voice that has become all too familiar. It was Billy. For those of you who don't remember, Billy is the name (changed to protect the innocent) of a guy I used to run into in the lunch room when we both worked at the smaller Fidelity office on Congress Street in Post Office Square. Billy would force me into small talk, when all I really wanted to do was read the paper and relax. He would comment on my lunch, particularly every time I got sushi. He would try to get me to take different combinations of buses on my commute home (once he realized I live 3 blocks away from him), even though I was okay with getting home 3 minutes later instead of sprinting accross town and jumping Jersey barriers for the sake of catching a bus. When I moved to the new office at World Trade, he got transferred, too.
"We haven't had lunch together in a while!" he informed me this morning. "What do you do for lunch these days?"
"I eat at my desk," I told him.
"Whaddya say we grab lunch in the caf today!?" he said.
"Uh, well, uh, yeah, I guess so."
"Don't sound so excited about it! Ha ha!" he said. I kind of hoped he would catch the hint.
We got separated on the shuttle, and I ducked him on the way into the office. Now there was no way this little get-together was going to happen...we hadn't set up any kind of time or meeting place. About ten minutes after I sat down at my desk, my phone rings. The only people that ever call this number are the guy who used to sit near my cube and the guy who handles my IRA. The guy who used to sit near my cube hasn't worked here in weeks, since his Green Card expired, and there is no reason for the IRA guy to call me, so I should have been suspicious.
I picked up the phone, only noticing the call ID when it was too late.
"It's a good thing I remembered your last name!" Billy shouted excitedly. "So, I'll meet you at 1:00 near the kitchen?"
"Uh, yeah."
------------------
Thanks to Liz Cate for this link.
If you want to talk about work ethic, this lady appears to be second to none.
|
Today, a bad thing happened. I was getting on the commuter rail, when I heard "Hey Brian!" in a voice that has become all too familiar. It was Billy. For those of you who don't remember, Billy is the name (changed to protect the innocent) of a guy I used to run into in the lunch room when we both worked at the smaller Fidelity office on Congress Street in Post Office Square. Billy would force me into small talk, when all I really wanted to do was read the paper and relax. He would comment on my lunch, particularly every time I got sushi. He would try to get me to take different combinations of buses on my commute home (once he realized I live 3 blocks away from him), even though I was okay with getting home 3 minutes later instead of sprinting accross town and jumping Jersey barriers for the sake of catching a bus. When I moved to the new office at World Trade, he got transferred, too.
"We haven't had lunch together in a while!" he informed me this morning. "What do you do for lunch these days?"
"I eat at my desk," I told him.
"Whaddya say we grab lunch in the caf today!?" he said.
"Uh, well, uh, yeah, I guess so."
"Don't sound so excited about it! Ha ha!" he said. I kind of hoped he would catch the hint.
We got separated on the shuttle, and I ducked him on the way into the office. Now there was no way this little get-together was going to happen...we hadn't set up any kind of time or meeting place. About ten minutes after I sat down at my desk, my phone rings. The only people that ever call this number are the guy who used to sit near my cube and the guy who handles my IRA. The guy who used to sit near my cube hasn't worked here in weeks, since his Green Card expired, and there is no reason for the IRA guy to call me, so I should have been suspicious.
I picked up the phone, only noticing the call ID when it was too late.
"It's a good thing I remembered your last name!" Billy shouted excitedly. "So, I'll meet you at 1:00 near the kitchen?"
"Uh, yeah."
------------------
Thanks to Liz Cate for this link.
If you want to talk about work ethic, this lady appears to be second to none.
|
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