Here you have a travel agent’s lunch if ever I saw one: an Asian plate lunch with a vaguely Asian green-tea beverage, and a funny travel book written by a flight attendant/humorist. The book’s called Plane Insanity, by Elliott Hester. Guess I have to add it to my Bookqueue now, since I’m officially reading it on my lunch hour. It was kicking around the office and was about to be thrown out in the general purge before the visit of the new VP of our section.
Everyone was a little nervous. Was he going to be a harsh taskmaster? A neat freak who demands that all blinds be ruthlessly level in the halfway up/halfway down position? A germophobe who would demand that all surfaces be scrubbed and disinfected (making us all telephone sanitizers, second class)? We’ve had veeps like this before.
No, about the only thing we knew about him is that he is French. Dunh, dunh, DUNNNHHNNHN!
The other day, he arrived. We were in a closer approximation of business casual than usual, meaning no jeans or sneakers (we were having a blizzard, so I compromised and wore ankle high walking shoes with a good tread). It was yet another in a long string of long days – I’m more loaded up with tasks than before, plus more regular res work to come. Once again, I was there long after hours, finishing things up and feeling a bit grumpy. I thought maybe the new VP’s visit had ended earlier in the afternoon. The TLs walked him past us worker bees at one point; he looked nice enough, with a big engaging smile and a strong resemblance to Roberto Benigni.
There’s a light that’s right over my head that’s controlled by switch a support room behind me (ticket printers, copiers, express-delivery supplies). Quite often the cleaning crew going through emptying wastebaskets will swing out of there, turn off the light, and leave me in the dark – and I’m sitting right there! I have to jump up, stifle the urge to say something naughty in Spanish, and turn the light back on.
That night, there were people in and out of the room behind me, making copies. I didn’t much notice who it was. Suddenly, the lights went out. Thank GOD I didn’t curse… I just said loudly “OOP!! Light! Need the light, please!” and got up to go slap it back on with some irritation (building staff have turned the lights out on me about 3 times in the past 10 days). I looked up to see the new French VP walking away with copies in his hand, but looking back with an apologetic grin on his face. My instinct for trying to speak foreign languages to people who actually speak them did not fail me, but my vocabulary and pronunciation as always falls a little short.
“Oh!” I stammered. “Ah…. bone swar!” (yes, yes, I know it’s “bon soir!”) “Sorry, I need the light on for a while.”
He chuckled and waved an apology, and I went back to swearing (very, very quietly) under my breath until I got my late-breaker project done.
