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Well, I figured it was going to be awkward.  But I didn’t expect it to border on lunacy.

I arrived at work this morning and paused outside the main doors to the office building that houses my workspace for the remainder of my research trip.  Just beyond the entrance is the dispatch desk, where the emergency protocol people sit and listen for someone to hit the Big Red Oh-Shit button and initiate rescue procedures.  Where I suspected Molly to be lying in wait, prepared to pounce on me the moment I walked inside.  My behavior seems totally justified to me, and my rational apparent, but given her mental faculties, she probably needs to ask me why I left.  (Yes, I know I’m making her out to be an idiot.  But come on, did you read my last post?  She may very well be!)

I steeled myself, cranked up my music (in case she called out to me, I would have a reasonable excuse to ignore her) and barged inside.

No one was there.  (Good thing no one fell through the ice at that moment.  They’d have been shit out of luck.)

I won the karmic lottery.  I did my own version of the Happy Dance all the way down the hall, which is somehow more enjoyable when performed to Volbeat’s “Sixteen Dollars”.  I celebrated my good fortune with a long morning of orange pekoe, trail mix, and computer code.

But I guess it’s not a good idea to celebrate when karma throws you a bone.

Shortly after lunch, I stepped out of my office to visit the washroom.  She must have seen me go in, because when I swung the door open to leave, there she was, arms folded angrily, foot tapping, a scowl plastered across her adorable face.  (Dammit, why’d she have to be ignorant?  Or, why couldn’t I just ignore it?)  I started to speak, but she cut me off.  Whoa boy, did she cut me off.

“What the fuck happened last night?!”

A word on the architecture of buildings dedicated to the advancement of science.  Gone are the days of cramped taupe hallways and lifeless tile.  The new trend is to make them very open in order to populate them with things relating to the associated field of study, usually accompanied by a similar color palate.  Given its purpose as a center for landscape ecology, this building has living trees growing out of holes in the tile.  I’m not sure how they got them through the foundation, but there they are.  To encourage their growth and vitality, the ceilings are vaulted glass, simulating a greenhouse.  They also provide fantastic acoustics.

Molly’s expletive echoed up and down the hall for a good two seconds.

Everyone in the hall immediately looked our way.  Doors started opening, and curious heads and torsos began to materialize in the door frames.  Such language hadn’t been heard in those halls since the Great Firing of Pete Haubash in 2004, so this was already one heck of a show for the onlookers.  A show that Molly apparently decided needed to go on.

Before I could recover my wits, Molly had her finger in my chest and was standing on her toes, pressed almost right against me.  (DAMMIT why did she have to be ignorant.)  “I’ll tell you what happened–you pussied out on me!!”

So yeah, she didn’t get it.  Figured.

Again, I tried to speak.  I’m pretty sure I was able to utter two syllables: “No I–”

“Well GUESS WHAT mister.”  Molly punctuated those two words by jabbing me in the chest, over a slightly tender bruise, making me wince.  Her voice reached a feverish pitch as she stated,

“YOU–” *jab* “–aren’t MAN ENOUGH–” *jab jab* “–to take ME–” *jab* “–home!!!!!”

Molly promptly turned on her heel and stormed away, calling over her shoulder, “Bastard!!”

You’ve got to admire the sound architecture in that place.  Seriously, that one seemed to hang in the air for at least three seconds.

The onlookers watched her storm off.  Then they turned to me, wide-eyed, slack-jawed, waiting for my response.

I had a moment to consider my response.  I could have been professional about it.  Shrugged it off and walked away.  Chalked it up to experience.  Or I could have been a smart ass.

Guess which one I chose.

……………………………professionality, of course.  Christ, you think so little of me.  I do have my career to consider, after all.

I smiled and gave an over-the-top shrug toward the onlookers.  “Can’t please ’em all, I guess.”

Good choice.  They laughed and went about their business.

I saw Molly behind the dispatch desk as I was leaving.  Because I’m a guest at the office for the week, I have to sign out when I leave, and she was beside the book.  Figures.  I stepped up and casually scrawled my name and time out on the form.  She glared at me the entire time.   No words were exchanged, and I exited without incident.

So, not all of my encounters with women end as positively as the stories I have posted thus far.  My libido usually steers me in the right direction, though the destination is usually riddled with guilt.  But this time it took me on a fascinating detour, leaving me with an in-office legacy and a new-found appreciation for the power of acoustics.

There is a moral to be had there, but for the life of me I can’t see it.

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6 Comments

  1. I love it! Have to now read previous post which I missed – even though it is nearly midnight and I’m tired!!! ; )

  2. I love Sad Mans Tongue

    • I’ve loved every one of their songs I’ve heard. Mirror and the Ripper, Light a Way, A Better Believer, Fallen, Guitar Gangsters & Cadillac Blood, Hallelujah Goat, Still Counting, Heaven Nor Hell, 7 Shots, Magic Zone… I love every single one.

  3. Wow. Some women are ALL messed up. Nice save though. 🙂

  4. Volbeat! 😀 I just love your posts and anxiously await each one. I know, gush, gush, gush. And what a dummy. Has decorum just completely left the planet?
    xoxo

    TWTG

  5. this is an circumstance when you could have played the “married card”. you could have made her like a cunt, WHILE still maintaining professional integrity. but you did the right thing. i mean, i think you had enough confrontation for one trip.
    cheers


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