George, Your Spiritual Advisor is on Line One

Mercifully, it’s Friday again. What’s the weekend hold in store this time? Tell us, O Mysterious iPod! More missing pantyhose, like last weekend? Don’t count it out – I mean, I am going out tonight for Mexican food and margaritas with Amy and Kathy...

Anything could happen.

You do have bail money, right?

But what does the iPod say about it?

The Kids Are Alright by The Who
Here Come the Bastards by Primus
On the Train by Basement Jaxx
The Man Who Sold the World by David Bowie
Twist and Crawl by the English Beat
Get a Move On by The Quantic Soul Orchestra
Girl, You Have No Faith In Medicine by the White Stripes
I Turn My Camera On by Spoon

Oh, and have I told you? I've gotten incredible news about my reading at Banfill-Locke!

Each month, there are two writers; and on March 13th, I am one of them. I have 30 minutes. But that’s not the incredible news. This is: the other person reading is Anya Achtenberg.

This is huge.

Anya Achtenberg is an award-winning fiction writer and poet. I mean, seriously, Google her. She's huge, nationally, and has quite a following locally. For me, to be reading with her? It's the literary equivalent to a musical pairing with Prince.

I am excited.
I am honored.
And I am freaked.

So! Who has time for a story? It’s a short one, I promise.

As you may know, I am an Executive Admin. You’d be so proud if you could see me. I type like the wind, I’m punctual as the dickens and I cut a dashing figure in the lunchroom.

As an Exec Admin I am acutely aware of the kind of stress that goes into being the Vice President of Stuff. The people I support are very busy, expected to work 70 hours a week and rely on me to keep their best interests in mind.

A job or two back I had an athletic boss with a bad hip, a man who needed to move about in order to stay comfortable, a handsome, fabulous man we’ll call George.

When I first started working for him, George was required to be in two, back-to-back all-day meetings. Two days of serious nodding, of producing PowerPoint slides of who-knows-what and just generally trying to stay “engaged” over long periods of time. Limited breaks, working lunch.

Yuck.

At 10:00 on the first day, and for the first time ever, I took a liberty.

I knocked briskly on the door of the conference room, walking in. A dozen suits turned to look at me as I strode into the room and handed George a note.

“Please see me immediately in the hall.”

George stood and nodded to those at the table as he left the room: “Gentlemen.”

When we got into the hall he looked at me expectantly.

“I thought you could stand to stretch a bit,” I said.

George stared at me and then smiled. Big.

“Pearl, why you little…” he mock-threatened.

“Why I oughta…” I countered.

Over the course of the afternoon and the next day, I popped in a couple more times:
“George, will need to reschedule your elbow-bleaching appointment so as to accommodate your appointment with your aroma therapist. Please advise.”
“George, your office chair is on fire. Permission to put it out?”

And every time, George would stand, nod to those at the conference table and say “Gentlemen”.

Then he would leave, walking the halls for 10, 15 minutes, working out the kinks in his knees and hips.

My wish for you this weekend? That someone passes you notes, excusing you from pain and boredom.