BACK FROM THE DEAD

October was a busy month. SES After School programs were getting started, so the private education company I work for was asking 40+ hours a week from me. Meanwhile, in spite of the obvious advantages of time travel, I am still getting stressed out by these 1999 classes. Took two exams in Speech Production, the first three weeks ago (meaning October 1999), the second during the previous Wednesday. Bombed on the first one, underachieved on the second. To his credit, Dr. ‘O’ seemed genuinely concerned. After the first exam, he asked me for my opinion on whether he was effectively teaching the material. He actually knows me by face, but I think that has more to do with how well I’m doing in Survey of Communication Disorders, which Dr. ‘O’ regularly sits in on.

"Phil, Dr. ‘S’ says you’re one of the best students in her class. Yet your grade is slipping in mine. I don’t want you to get disillusioned with Speech Pathology at such an early time, but I have to warn you, you’re in danger of getting an unsatisfactory grade."

I explained to him that I work full-time, that balancing my job and two classes is very difficult. I'm not always as prepared as I’d like to be. During this past weekend, I had a very important paper to write for Survey…, so I had to cram for the second Speech Production exam the night before. Jeez, when exactly did I inherit Peter Parker’s life, sans the red-and-blue tights? At least I can afford to take an extended break from work. I should probably make time to visit the dreaded Dr. ‘O’ during his office hours.

THE DEEP END OF THE POOL IS THE MOST DANGEROUS

Friday was the official last day of the temp pool. Two of the office managers offered me a long-term gig. Office manager ‘S’ wanted me to stay onboard and make phone calls to parents of absentee children, while office manager ‘V’ offered me something in grants. I hate office manager ‘S,' as she is angry bitch. The most satisfying moment of my last day was telling office manager ‘G,’ who hired me and is quite cool, that the reason I won’t stay is because I refuse to work for ‘S.’ Everyone else in temp pool applauded and cheered. ‘G’ laughed, said she totally understood, and wished me well. I should hear from office manager ‘V’ during the coming week.

Actually, telling office manager ‘G’ that I refuse to work for ‘S’ was only the second-most satisfying moment of last evening. The most satisfying: Getting around, finally, to doing something about ‘C.’ I think ‘C’ is awesome. ‘C’ studied drama at NYU, currently auditions like a madwoman (sometimes, for madwoman roles), and always has candy to share because "candy makes people happy."

She’s also something of a dork. Has two younger brothers (early 20’s) who were big on Dungeons & Dragons (I haven’t gotten around to asking her if she did it, too). Loves LotR and Star Trek. Used to read comic books. I have no doubt that my attraction to her has something to do with the company I keep, but she has other good points, too. I could go on and on…

Anyway, it was about 20 after five last night when the other two members of temp pool finally went home, leaving just me and ‘C.’ To be fair, she and I had been circling each other for the past two months, and we’d reached the comfortable point where we tease regularly. I could have just asked her for her contact info. But call me ambitious. I was determined to find a way to let her know that I like her without the mess of, you know, actually telling her that I like her. After mentally running the gamut of subtlety for, like, fifteen minutes, I felt that I hit upon the perfect line of interrogative questioning.

Then I said fuck it and just asked for her contact info.

"NO, PHIL! YOU CAN’T HAVE MY CONTACT INFO! NO NO NO NO NO!" she said. On the last "NO," she even slammed the bottom of her closed fist upon the desk for emphasis. Then she gave me the loveliest smile I’ve ever received from a member of the opposite gender, tore a sheet of paper out of a legal pad, and wrote down all her contact info. Then she asked me out.
(Did I mention that ‘C’ is awesome?)

Of course, five minutes later we split ways to say our final good-byes to people. I went upstairs, told ‘C’ I’d be right back. But the conversation with office manager ‘V’ took longer than expected, and when I got back downstairs, ‘C’ was gone. I was upset that she had left without me. While I found her again ten minutes later, wandering in from the lobby because she left something behind, I couldn’t help looking at her and thinking, "You left this horrible place without me." She’s in the chorus of an off-Broadway play this Monday. She invited me to come see her, and I told her I might. So, how will this all play out? Not well, I think. Call me a pessimist, but I just have a feeling that we're hopelessly doomed. Still, maybe the best thing for me right now is a doomed romance.