(Liz-S and Old Jim at the Amen Corner. Liz-S is in white and Jim is not commenting on what happened in Vegas. Photo Socotra.)
I stopped by Willow on the way home- duh, you know? The crew was reassembled. I can’t tell you what Old Jim and Mary did in Vegas- I wouldn’t ask and naturally he wouldn’t tell- but he was once more at his accustomed seat. He has had a haircut and the travel (and whatever) in Vegas seemed to agree with him.
He was filled with piss-and-vinegar, recharged and reloaded. I was relegated to the stool three places down from the apex of the Amen Corner on the long side of the bar.
Liz-S was in a white blouse, a remarkable change from the black leotard top in which management likes to have the bar staff attired. “You look great,” I said. “Sometimes I can’t tell if I am at a bar or a dance recital. Congratulations- what was the first day like at a real job?”
“Well, I had to try hard to look interested.”
“What do you mean?”
“Death by PowerPoint,” she said. “And the other people at orientation were stunned, too, but they responded by going to sleep.”
“At least you can wear what you want,” I said. “So long as it is professional.”
Jon-without-H looked a little embarrassed as he sat next to The Lovely Bea. “You noticed that I have no bow-tie,” he said. “I was professional all day.”
“Some of them were distinctly casual,” said Liz-S. “I just tried to look businesslike and engaged. It was hard though.”
“What do you mean?” growled Jim.
“Well, first they handed out paper copies of all the briefings.” She handed over a copy, printed out in the PowerPoint format that enables you to take notes on each slide.
“It looks like you could copy the whole briefing in the notes section verbatim,” I said.
“Yeah. That was bad enough, but then they read each slide to us.”
“Ugh. I hate that,” I said, looking happily at the white wine that had appeared before me. Jerry the Barrister came in and sat next to me. I greeted him, and shouted over John-with-and-H to Liz-S. “Did you hear Jerry’s story about the LSAT?”
“No, what was it?”
Jerry chuckled and looked at the Willow Menu. “Well, he was in Saigon, and starting to make his plans for returning to civilian life. He thought he would take the legal aptitude test and signed up for a session on the 30th of January, 1968.”
“So?”
Jim guffawed. “He took the LSAT during the Vietnamese Tet Offensive?”
“Yeah,” said Jerry. “I didn’t do so well. They were running airstrikes on VC positions a couple blocks away.”
“OMG,” said Liz-S. “That is a challenge to the mental process needed to think through tough legal problems.”
“Great excuse for not doing very well. The Professor at Case Western Reserve said it was the best he ever heard. Much better than the dog and homework.”
“Hah!” laughed Liz-S. “That is certainly better than mine. Speaking of dogs, they taught us how to deal with Service Animals in our orientation today.” She fished in the large portfolio marked with the official logo of the Inspector General’s Office at the Government Association of Office and Associations. She handed me a brochure.
I looked at it in wonder. It was a fancy tri-fold titled ‘Guide to Etiquette and Behavior for Communicating and Working with Individuals With Disabilities at the GAofO&A.’
“Impressive,” I said. “They have an Office of Diversity and Inclusion?”
Liz-S nodded. “It is comprehensive, and shows you how to act with compassion even if you don’t have any.”
“That is my government, all right,” I said reading along.
“Mine too,” Said John-with. “Sadistic bastards.”
I read down the column of bullets on how to deal with our fellow citizens. “Do not be overly concerned about your usage of common and accepted expressions such as “See you later,” or, “did you hear about that.”
“Well, if you wrote it the vision-challenged wouldn’t be offended,” growled Jim.
“And if you said it, the aurally-challenged probably wouldn’t mind,” I concluded. “This is pretty amazing stuff.”
“It is through the looking glass sometimes,” said Jerry, ordering an Alpine flatbread.
“It’s an homage to the old Alpine restaurant up at Glebe and Lee Highway,” I said. “They are closed now. It has calamari on it. It’s good.”
“Did you see the part about Service Dogs? You are not supposed to touch a Service Dog without permission.”
“It is easy to get rattled. Remember when all those blind people came to dinner last week? That was pretty amazing. I tried to help one guy up the stairs outside and he about bit my head off.”
“People are sensitive. Service Animals are working animals and you shouldn’t distract them.”
“They are not pets, you know,” said Liz-S. “Maybe you should think about a Service Animal while you have the bad leg.”
“I would like a Service Pony,” I said. “One of those little guys that I could ride around on at the office.”
“Be respectful.”
“I am still amazed at you having an Office of Inclusion,” I said. “That seems to be the perfect definition of non-essential personnel. You know, the ones who are not supposed to report to the office when the idiots in the Executive Branch and Congress shut down the government again this summer.”
“Yeah. I often wondered about that,” said John-With. “Doesn’t it mean by definition that they are non-essential? Why are they on the payroll to begin with?”
“Be nice,” I said. “If you are, I might let you touch my Service Pony.”
When the Alpine flatbread arrived, the Barrister allowed as how it was too spicy. Liz-S ordered a Willow Burger, and specified it be cooked ‘well done.’
It was. And by the time she picked her way through it, I realized I was, too.
(Jerry-the-B thought the Alpine was too spicy. The rest of us thought it was pretty good. This is the last slice.)
Copyright 2012 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com