Monday morning it's back to school for Jillian. Her mother and I make it clear that there is to be no more arguing with Ms. Castellano. Megs volunteers transportation services to school. And speaking of transportation, I've decided to commute to the office on the old bike that I found in the back of the garage beneath a layer of dust, cobwebs, and sediment. It wasn't hard to find. It was right there on the bike rack where I left it at least five years ago. Maybe seven or eight.
Thanks to procedural memory, they say that you can never forget how to ride a bike. But procedural memory can't help with aggressive drivers, narrow streets, potholes, and rush hour traffic. During my fifteen-minute bike ride, on multiple occasions, I narrowly avoid a trip to the hospital or the coroner's office. At one point, while making an evasive maneuver to dodge a speeding SUV (see what I did there?), my lunch hops out of my backpack onto the roadway and is run over by a school bus. Of course, the kids on the bus laugh.
#######
I'm working at my desk when I hear the office door opening. I check the time. 10:32. I don't have any appointments scheduled. I'm not dressed for visitors. I take a quick sniff of my armpits then thrown on my dress shirt over my T-shirt and begin buttoning as fast as I can.
"Hello?" I hear a familiar voice.
Still buttoning furiously, I exit my office to find Carl, coffee in hand, admiring my bike.
"Hey, Carl. Sorry about that. I wasn't expecting visitors."
He turns and responds with suspicious eyes on my outfit - sneakers, sweat pants and the half-buttoned Oxford shirt. "This your bike?"
"Yeah. I rode it to work. I forgot my bike lock so I brought it up to the office. Just for today."
He drains his coffee then sets the empty paper cup on the receptionist's desk.
He grins proudly. "Wanted to tell you faccia-a-faccia. You're rockstar status at Aunt Betsy's."
"Rockstar?"
"You're our secret sauce, keeping the chickens clucking and the ducks--"
I cut him off before he can finish.
"You've heard good things from Lowell and the team?" I smile.
"I shoulda slotted you in baked goods optimization years ago."
"Their ad agency, Saucy Cat." I shake my head. "Could be an issue."
He gives me a paternal pat on the back. "Let's use the positive hose to knock down that fire."
I nod.
"So Aunt Betsy is filling out your calendar?"
"Yeah, pretty much."
"Pretty much? I mean, there's no more room in the assignment wagon, right?"
"Huh?"
"No other projects under the microscope?"
I see where he's headed.
"Carl, I left Trollamex back at the office. And that's where it's gonna stay."
He grins broadly and gives me another pat on the back. I almost expect him to tousle my hair. His smile falls when he looks around the empty reception area then trots down the hall and pokes his head into the vacant conference room.
"Where's your Keurig?"
"Uh, I don't have one."
"Going forward, we need to get you a coffeemaker."
"There's a little cafe on the first floor of that building." I point out the window. "Think that's building five. Coffee's not bad."
"That's insane! Unacceptable. When you need your coffee..." Carl's panic escalates like a guy who just realized he left his cellphone on the roof of his car when he drove out of the gas station. "Suppose a client wants coffee? You're gonna run all the way over to that other building? What if there's a long line? No. No. We'll set you up with a coffeemaker. Pronto!"
He grabs his paper cup and peers down, hoping to find a mouthful of java. Nope. He nervously rocks the cup back and forth, drumming its base against the desk. Like a junkie, he wipes the corners of his mouth with his thumb and forefinger.
"Better be sailing on back to Jurassic Park," he says. "Make sure the stegosaurus and the allosaurus didn't escape from their pens."
Is he referring to specific employees?
"Thanks for stopping in," I say to his back as he bolts for the door.
Carl slams on the brakes. "Oh, yeah. Wanted to mention. The search for your admin. We're down to two. Had three but one was a loud talker and had a pointy chin." He sticks out his tongue. "Nobody wants that. Should have the new girl at this desk in a week or two. Nothing lights up a room like a pretty face with some sweater-stretching cha-chas." He winks and scoots out into the hallway.
Once again I'm reminded why Carl is single.
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My gurgling stomach alerts me that it's lunchtime. Yep. It's 11:48. The lunch I packed this morning is now embedded in the tire treads of a school bus. Guess I'll amble over to the cafe in building five and see what's on the menu. Having changed out of sweat pants and sneakers and into dress slacks and shoes right after Carl left, I feel a little less conspicuous in my new suburban office park environment. I'll blend right in.
I exit my office and find a middle-aged woman in a maintenance uniform standing outside the office doors, a large box on the floor beside her. I jog across the reception area and open the door.
"Can I help you with that?" I ask as she squats to lift the box.
"I got it," she replies rather indignantly. She makes her way into the entryway. "You think because I'm a woman I need your help?"
Oh, boy. This is gonna be fun.
She lets out a long sigh. "How about moving that bike so I can put this box down?"
"You can set it on the desk."
I wheel the bike into my office. When I return to the reception area, she's carefully placing the box on the floor.
"What is it?"
"It's your coffeemaker." She checks her phone. "The name on the install order is Dunning. You Dunning?"
"I work for him. He was just here. He must have just ordered this."
"So where do you want it?"
"Uh, I don't know. I haven't had time to give it much thought."
She rolls her eyes.
"In here, I guess. The reception area. Seems like the right place for it."
She rips off the packaging from the box amidst a series of irritated grunts.
"You know what," I say. "Just leave it. I got this."
"Order says I gotta do the install and check for proper operation before I leave."
Well, we'll probably get a little table or something - a coffee table," I smile. "For the reception area."
She doesn't smile back.
So for now, until we get the table, we'll just set it on the desk. You can plug it in over there."
"What about water?"
"Well, there are restrooms right down the hall."
"Supposed to be installed into a water line," she reads the instructions.
"You sure?"
She gives me a cutting look as though I just insulted her mother before she says, "This the woman thing again?"
"What?"
"Like I'm some dumb ass woman who doesn't know how to read a job order?"
"No, I didn't mean that. At all."
"You know how many coffeemakers I've installed?"
"No idea."
"Actually, this'll be the first. But I've installed sinks, commodes, showers, sewer lines. You name it. Just as good as any man."
Geez, lady. Relax.
"So a coffeemaker isn't gonna be much of a challenge." She looks around. "Where the hell am I gonna find a water line?"
"This is my first week here. I'm not familiar with the plumbing."
She paces across the reception area and enters the conference room. I hear her say, "This might be a better spot. At least there's a table."
She stands in the doorway and dials her phone. "Jeremy. Hey, it's Paige. Hell, yeah, I know it's lunchtime. Think I wouldn't rather be doing some lunch?"
I lean in. "I think this could definitely wait until after lunch."
She steps away and continues her phone conversation. "I got some dillhole ASAP job order to install a freakin' coffeemaker. Yeah, coffeemaker. Believe that? Emergency coffeemaker. I need to locate a waterline over in building four."
She turns to me. "This is 207, right?"
"Yeah, I think so."
"Suite 207. Hop on it, would you?"
She shoves her phone in her hip pocket and crosses to the box. "Your boss spent some big bucks on this coffee machine."
"Yeah. It looks like a good one."
She plops down onto the floor and leans against the wall. "Don't let me keep you from your lunch."
"I don't mind."
"Don't know how long it's gonna take to find the damn water line. Then I gotta go down to the shop and get my torch. No sense in both of us starving to death."
"Look, there's really no rush. You could come back after lunch."
"Oh, you mean because of my delicate feminine body chemistry I might faint if I don't get my nourishment?"
"See you after lunch," I mutter on my way out the door.