Oh, I Think So

The boss went first, and then the giant, who fished into his pants pocket and turned and thrust something into her hand, something that field like folded up paper. "Those things are mostly disgusting," he said, leaning over to say it quietly toward her ear.  "Try to not think about it when it's happening." She knew it was a toilet-seat cover which instantly made her relieved. "Thanks," she whispered.  "You're a life saver." "Nah," said the giant, and turned back and collapsed into the window section of a three-seater.  He grinned at her. She moved along quickly to follow the boss, already making his way up the stairs.  She caught up to him as he was taking a forward-facing seat. "You don't know me but I am not a perfect man," he said as she seated herself facing him but backwards in the direction of travel.  "I can put up with a lot but if I face backwards, I will barf." "It's not a...

Here is the thing she noticed about the ticket transaction:  new boss used cash, slipping the bills into the slot and bending over to pick up the change and the three one-way tickets that had been dispensed.  He put the change into his pocket and gave her and the giant each a ticket. "Aw," she said, "you're not gonna be the man." "He never is," said the giant.  "He always gives me the ticket and I take care of business on my own." "This has happened to you before?" she asked. "Yeah," said the giant.  "I apparently can't keep track of my wallet until I realizes it's right where I left it last." "Which is where?" she wondered. "At home on my dresser, of course," he said, shrugging.  "It's a failing.  I admit it." "Why don't we just move on toward the train," said the boss, "and maybe discuss this when we get there."  He was talking with...

Everyone in the office had the cell phone of every other person programmed into their cell phones but the thought of calling a coworker on their cell, except for Lee with whom she would occasionally socialize, was unpleasant to her.  Her coworkers mostly lacked curiosity in everything other than celebrity gossip and work-related gossip.  She stared at the phone's long list of work numbers and chose the name of her manager. She saw her manager's cell phone number and realized she'd wisely put in his desk number as well.  The rule at their company was that you had to call in before the start of your work day.  The time on her phone said she had five minutes before the rule would be broken so she called his desk line.  He liked to walk in right as the work day was starting so she thought she'd not have to talk to him. She dialed and waited for his answering machine. "Hello," he said. Of all the days for him to get himself to work early, he chose today. ...

She laughed so hard, her eyes started to get a little misty.  She opened her purse, took out a tissue, and dabbed at her eyes. "Thank you so much," she said, carefully blotting to avoid smearing her inexpensive mascara.  "I really needed a laugh." "First, a solid medical plan with dental is nothing to laugh at," he said. "I know, I know," she said.   She then started laughing again, trying to not laugh out loud, her shoulders shaking. "Second, I am a legitimate businessman.  I have a business, I have clients.  Well, customers, really.  And I've been in business for myself for a long time," he advised with some indignation.  "The pretty package is something for which I can thank my biological parents." "You were adopted?" she asked. "No," he said flatly.  "I just like to toss that in to see if people are listening."  He paused while she wondered what she'd gotten herself into an...

"When you get to the bottom, you go back to the top of the slide, where you stop and you turn and you go for a ride," she rambled, trying not to emphasize the rhymes.  "Till I get to the bottom and I see you again." "Let me stop you right there," he said.  "If I want to hear the words to 'Helter Skelter,' I will listen to the Beatles in my car.  I don't want to hear that song right now.  And not recited like you are trying to be deep." She didn't say anything for a few minutes.  She didn't peg him for a Beatles fan but she knew that no one ever knows what someone knows until you know that someone.  Thinking about that last sentence made her temples throb, so she gave up the lyrics and spoke again. "Hand towel wincing.  White tornado activates the black globe.  While away the donuts in cave followed by Michael Phelps.  Dancing horses want cabbage on the rain in Spain." He never turned his head to look at her j...

There were no assassins, of course, because she was only famous enough to be murdered and, really, no one wanted her dead that she knew of.  There were the You-Are-Dead-To-Me friends from another era who, for one reason or another, decided they didn't want to acknowledge her existence any longer.  There were the good friends who blurted out that they would kill her when she suggested a place they hated for lunch, much as she offered to slay them when they wanted her to go to a particular bad movie.  Sitting on the banquette, having the occasional sip of coffee, she believed there would be no life-or-death excitement. When she was wrong, she admitted it.   She thought the worst thing going on was that her new manager was a controlling maniac who played favorites and made life hell for those he perceived as a threat to his way of working.  She wasn't young, she didn't want to be  the manager, the clients loved her, and she was punctual and rarely absen...

Mr. King directed her away from the table, along the edge of the eating area, toward the back set of escalators. "I could have been nicer to him," she said.  "Maybe been a little more understanding.  He probably has issues and a routine." "He has a routine, all right," said Mr. King.  "But he changes it whenever it suits him.  We get a lot of nonworking regulars here, and he's probably the most selfish one.  All about him at all times." She smiled.  He was a military man who appreciated order so of course he had a name for the indigent segment of building visitors. "Nonworking regulars?" she asked. "Doesn't work in the building or anywhere, could be somewhere else but is here every single day.  Sometimes he hangs around out front, bumming cigarettes.  He doesn't smoke but he swaps with other nonworking regulars.  Last week I saw him trade three cigarettes for the autobiography of Steve Jobs.  Go figure." ...