23rdMar. × ’09

At least once a week, I have the same conversation with a guy I work with, called Steve. He sidles up to my desk all smiles, hair-gel and the smell of divorce. Then inevitably, he asks me about my weekend and without waiting for a response, cuts me off, mid throat gurgle, to tell me I need to fix his computer. For those of you who followed your dream in life, Steve works in what we call “Sales“.

Stage two of our conversation involves me explaining to Steve that I don’t work in I.T. and I don’t know how to fix computers – again. This is followed by the same incredulous look, the implied horror, that I’ve somehow chosen not to help him, before he skulks back off to his own three-walled coffin. Only today, he let something slip.

He commented, “What’s the point of wearing glasses if you can’t fix computers?”

I actually heard my boss slap his forehead in the distance. I tried to explain that having weak eyes doesn’t denote a strong mind. Just like having a penis, doesn’t mean you’ll be a good Father.

I now know that the new guy who started last week is actually Steve’s son. I also now know that he was standing behind me when I said this. We had a moment in the elevator on our way down to get some coffee, nothing was said, but you could tell he wanted to hug me.

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One Comment

  1. Posted March 25, 2009 at 1:07 PM | Permalink


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