Sir Talk-a-Lot Update:
“KEITH!” he bellows standing right outside of my cube. Startled…I jump. It’s Sir Talk-a-Lot. He’s watering Forrest (a small but growing plant he placed outside my cube). We exchange pleasantries. I’m not worried. I haven’t been accosted in a while…and I’m hoping this wave of freedom will continue.
“I’m going on vacation next week. Could you water the plants while I’m out?” Worried that something’s about the jump off – like a detailed breakdown of his itinerary – I quickly agree. “Thanks. I’ll get you some water.”
Wait? What? He’ll get me some water? I’m confused. It’s Tuesday…and he wants me to water some plants next Tuesday…and he’s going to get me some water today. He leaves and quickly returns. He stands outside the 5-foot partition wall of my cube, reaches over, and hands me a 3-pack of juice boxes. Confused, “What is this?” I ask. “It’s water. Its water we have stored in case we have to Shelter-in-Place. It’s expired for drinking. So instead of trashing it, I use it to water the plants.”
“Oh…smart move.” I respond. Then he did the unthinkable. “Here…let me show you how to use it.” ARE YOU KIDDING ME!!! Are you seriously going to explain to me how to use a juice box…I think to myself. Then he goes in…”Each box of water has a hole at the top…covered by a piece of cellophane [really…did this bama say cellophane?]. He continues, “…you gotta poke a hole in it to get the water out. Don’t use your finger because I did that and got water all over the place. See, each box has attached to it a plastic straw…”
“Uhhh…I think I can handle opening a juice box of water!” I say sarcastically, while rolling my eyes and turning back towards my computer. Did that deter him? It was if I never said a word.
“See…you take this straw and you have to pull it off the box. It’s in the plastic wrapping…” I can’t believe he is still talking! With my back turned to him, I begin the process of tuning him out. “Keith!” he calls. I turn. “…and you stick the straw in the hole at the top like this.” He tilts the juice box at an angle so I can see him insert the straw through the cellophane into the whole. And he’s doing it while looking back at me like a 3rd grade teacher solving a math problem on a chalkboard in front of the class. Because he’s not paying attention…when he pushes the straw through the whole, water comes jetting out and gets all over his shirt. “Oh Sh!&!!!” he says as he jumps back.
I’m done!!! I turn back around and get back to work…as I mentally utter some Jamaican obscenities. And I’m not even Jamaican! I don’t know what he said after that because I completely tuned him out.
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