February 13th, 2004



The guy who sits next to me at work likes to come chat now and then. He's a unique fellow. A big black guy with a forceful personality, strange mannerisms, and an odd sense of humor. It takes awhile to "get" him, but he's grown on me. This evening, after a very long and stressful week, while I was still finishing a pretty stressful day, he came to my desk and said hello.

I turned around and faced him with a polite-but-busy look on my face. "Hi. Yes?"

"I just thought I'd come see how you were doing." (pause) "Because this book I'm reading, it says I'm supposed to ask my coworkers how they're doing." (pause, as I nod) "Even if they don't want me to."

At that I laughed heartily, and I found myself more interested in the conversation. We chatted for a bit. He likes to tease me a little about my clothing.

"I see you're wearing your paisley pants again today."

"Yeah, I like them!"

"You have to tell me where I can get some."

"Um, I got them at Marshall Fields, I think...."

"No, I need to know where I can get them for guys."

"I don't think they come in guy-sizes. You can just get a woman's extra-large, that might fit."

"Now don't go there!"

"Oh, you already started going there, as soon as you talked about buying paisley pants."

"I think I could wear paisley pants, with a polo shirt...."

"If you're a girl...."

"...wear the pants with a solid dark-colored polo shirt...."

"...sure, if you're a girl...."

"...a solid polo shirt and....I wonder what kind of shoes would work with that?"

"I'm wearing my little black shoes with the silver buckles."

And I showed him my feet. I think that was enough to derail this peculiar little thought train. He admired my outfit, then we both returned to our respective desks to work.