Boy Meets Girl (2 page)
Professor Wingblade in Soc 101 said writing down our feelings would help us organize our thoughts and enable us to approach problem-solving in a rational manner. But I don’t feel very rational. What am I going to do? I can’t fire Mrs. Lopez.
Okay, yeah, she did refuse service to the paper’s chief legal counsel. But I’ve seen Stuart Hertzog in action, and the fact is, like most lawyers—the ones I’ve met, anyway—he’s a pig. Once I had to share a cab with him to an arbitration and he yelled at the cabbie for taking Lexington Avenue instead of Park, even though the cabbie said there was construction on Park. Then when it came time to pay, Stuart wouldn’t give the guy a tip and said that he can’t stand immigrants because they think they know everything and that even if in the cabbie’s native land he was a surgeon, like he said, that didn’t mean he was qualified to navigate the streets of Manhattan in a moving vehicle, and why couldn’t they all (he meant immigrants, I guess) just stay home?
I totally wanted to point out that Hertzog isn’t exactly a Native-American name, which means at one point Stuart’s relatives must have been new to this country as well, and who knows, maybe one of them worked as a cabbie or an omnibus driver or whatever and how would Stuart have liked it if some lawyer in a fancy suit spoke to his great-great-great-great-grandpa like that?
Only I couldn’t say anything like that because Amy was there and she would have fired me. I actually don’t know if you can get fired for saying something like that—right to free speech and all—but I’m sure Amy would have found a way.
I can’t believeI’m the one who has to fire her. Mrs. Lopez, I mean. Whyme ? I’ve never fired anyone before. Well, okay, I fired that porter who tried to feel up that seventeen-year-old lacrosse player who was touring the paper’s offices on that school field trip, but he so totally deserved it—I mean, his defense was that he couldn’t help it because she looked so good in her little plaid skirt. Please! I mean, it was apleasure to fire him.
But this! This is totally different. I love Mrs. Lopez, and really, I don’t blame her a bit for what she did. I mean, they ought to fire Stuart Hertzog, is what they ought to do. I once saw him with a cigar—a CIGAR!—in the 3rd-floor hallway while he was waiting for the elevator, and when Mel Fuller from Features came by and asked him to put it out because she’s pregnant, he just went, “It’s not lit,” which was only half true because it totally had been lit in Mr. Hargrave’s office, it was still smoldering a little, even. Who does that, who smokes cigars inside a public building? And yells at poor innocent cab drivers? I mean, really.
And now Jen wants to go out for drinks and she could be pregnant RIGHT NOW, which means she’ll probably have some kind of flipper baby, and it will all be my fault. Oh my God, I have got to find somewhere else to stay, I can’t keep crashing on their couch. It’s so nice of them, but I can tell Craig is getting sick of having to share a bathroom with not just one woman but two. I could not have timed this thing with Dale worse. I mean, Jen and Craig have been trying to have a baby since they got married, and now that Jen’s on all those drugs—and really, she has to see me all day at work, and then again at home—we never get a break from each other. It’s a wonder she hasn’t cracked. . . .
If I could find a decent sublet I would move out in a second, but I just don’t think I could handle having a roommate I don’t know. I mean, that girl in the share up on East 86th—I admire people with goals and all, but shouldn’t women in this day and age be striving to help improve the planet, or at least their community in some small way, instead of focusing all of their energy on finding a husband? I guess I should be more accepting of other people’s dreams, but really, I don’t think marrying an investment banker is going to solve all of your problems. I just don’t. I mean, it might HELP, in the long run, with rent and everything, but you can’t just go around life being Mrs. Investment Banker. I mean, you have to find where YOU as an individual, not Mrs. Whoever You Marry, fits into the world.
And frankly, no matter how many Upper East Side bars you hit on a Saturday night, there is no guarantee you are going to meet someone decent in any of them. All the bridal magazines in the world aren’t going to change that. I mean, you’re better off volunteering somewhere. At least that way you’ll be doing something to improve the earth, in addition to trolling for a man. So it won’t be a COMPLETE waste of your time. . . .
Oh God, maybe I’m being stupid, maybe I should just go back to him, I mean, it isn’tthat bad, being in a relationship with someone who won’t commit. I mean, lots of girls would die for a boyfriend like Dale. At least he never beat me up or cheated on me. I think he really does love me, and it IS just a stupid societal more. Marriage, I mean.
Except that I distinctly remember Professor Wingblade telling us in Soc 101 that in EVERY civilization in the world—even in places like Micronesia where for hundreds of years they had no contact whatsoever with outside cultures—there issome sort of ceremony where couples in love stand up before their community and pledge their devotion to each other. I mean, essentially, Dale is flying in the face of thousands of years of tradition by saying he and I don’t need to do this to have a satisfying and nurturing romantic relationship. That simply isn’t true.
Which is not to say that if Dale agreed to marry me today, I’d move back in with him tomorrow. I mean, I don’t want him to ask me just to humor me. I want him to ask me because he honestly and truly cannot picture a future without me. . . .
Except that it seems like Dale is incapable of picturing any kind of future at all, except maybe a future where the fridge isn’t fully stocked with Rolling Rock, which is why he always seems to remember to buy more. But me, I don’t think he sees me in his future. . . .
And I’m not even sure Iwant him to anymore, because the truth is, after seeing Jen and Craig and the way they are with each other, I know what true love looks like, and it isso not what Dale and I have, and I think I deserve to have love like that. I think it’s out there, I don’t know where, but somewhere. . . .
Oh God, she’s here.
Employee:Ida Lopez
Personnel Rep:Kathleen Mackenzie
Date:Wednesday
Time:3:15P.M.
KM: Um, just a second here, Mrs. Lopez. I have to turn this thing on . . . um . . . testing. . . . Testing. Oh, wait. Oops. There. I think it’s on. Does that look on?
IL: The little wheels are spinning.
KM: Um, okay. Well, this is Kathleen Mackenzie, and this is . . . is an employee interaction with Ida Lopez. Mrs. Lopez, I’m required by Human Resource policy to tape this session, for both your protection as well as my own.
IL: I understand,carina.
KM: Okay. Well. Thank you very much for coming to see me, Mrs. Lopez. I . . . er . . . I’m afraid I—
IL: Well now, you know there’s nothing I like better than a little visit with my Kate. And just look how pretty you are looking today, in that pink top.
KM: Thank you, Mrs. Lopez. I—
IL: Pretty as a movie star. Skinny as a movie star, too. Too skinny, if you ask me. I don’t know about you girls today, always starving yourselves to look thinner. What’s so great about being thin? You think men want to go to bed with a stick figure? What’s so much fun about that? Would you want to go to bed with a stick figure? No, you wouldn’t. Here, better have a cookie.
KM: Oh, thank you, but really, I shouldn’t—
IL: Shouldn’t what, get a little meat on those bones?
KM: No, I mean, I shouldn’t . . . Mrs. Lopez, you know these desserts are supposed to be for senior staff members only. . . .
IL: I don’t see why, if I made them, I cannot decide who deserves one of my famous chocolate chip cookies, and who does not. And you deserve a cookie. Here.
KM: But Mrs. Lopez—
IL: Look, it is your favorite. No nuts. Of course, most people like them with nuts. I recommend the pecans. Come on. Take a bite.
KM: Mrs. Lopez, really, I—
IL: One little bite never hurt anybody. And it’s not like that good-looking boyfriend of yours will care if you gain a little weight. That one I saw with you in the lobby after last year’s Christmas party. Sorry,holiday party. He seemed like a man who appreciates a woman with a little meat on their bones.
KM: Oh, well, actually, he and I sort of—
IL: Oh no! You broke up?
KM: Well, yes, a little while ago. I mean . . . we didn’t break up, exactly—Oh my God, Mrs. Lopez. This is the best chocolate chip cookie I ever had.
IL: You know the secret, of course?
KM: Hmmm, wait, let me guess. You melt the butter before putting it in?
IL: No,carina. Well, I do let it sit to room temperature. But I meant the secret to getting a man to commit.
KM: No, what is it?
IL: Find the right man. Yours—the one I saw you with—he’s not right for you. I knew it the minute I saw him. He’ll never appreciate you. He’s too wrapped up in himself. I could tell, because of the way he kept talking about that band of his. He made it sound like his band meant more to him than you do!
KM: (Choking sound) Excuse me.
IL: Oh, here, better have some milk to wash that down. No, don’t go on about how fattening it is. It’s good for you. Helps build strong bones. There. So simple, you really could make them at home. Here, let me write the recipe down for you.
KM: Oh, Mrs. Lopez! Your secret recipe? You can’t—
IL: Of course I can. Now, in a large mixing bowl, beat two sticks of unsalted butter until smooth. Then add one cup of packed brown sugar, a quarter cup of granulated sugar, one large egg, and two and a half teaspoons of vanilla extract. Beat this until very well blended. Then gently beat in half—just half—of a mixture of one and three quarter cups, plus seven tablespoons—this is important—of all-purpose flour, three quarters of a teaspoon of baking powder, one third teaspoon of baking soda, a generous quarter teaspoon of salt—
KM: Mrs. Lopez, really, this isn’t—
IL: Then stir in the remaining flour mixture—but don’t overmix it. Then stir in the chocolate chips and pecans. Drop the cookies by teaspoonfuls—about two inches apart—on greased baking sheets, then bake for eight to ten minutes. Remember to let the pans stand for about a minute after you take them from the oven. You don’t want them to lose their shape. Then use a spatula—you have a spatula, don’t you, Kate?—and put the cookies on a wire rack to cool. See? Easy! Now. Hadn’t you better get on with it?
KM: What? Oh. Yes. Mrs. Lopez. The reason I’ve asked you here today has to do with the incident that occurred this afternoon in the senior staff dining room—
IL: Yes, of course. Señor Hertzog.
KM: Yes, exactly. Mrs. Lopez, you know you and I have met before over a similar—
IL: Yes, I remember. I wouldn’t give any of my peach cobbler to that man from the Mayor’s Office. Oh, your boss was very put out with me that time. That . . . What’s her name again? Oh, yes, Jenkins. Amy Jenkins. You know, talking about food issues? That one has some big ones. I’ve seen your boss down three of my chocolate cheesecake muffins, then head straight to the ladies’ room—
KM:Okay, Mrs. Lopez, that’s great, but that’s not why we’re here today. We’re here today to talk about Mr. Hertzog—
IL: Of course. I wouldn’t let him have any of my key lime pie.
KM: But see, Mrs. Lopez, that’s just it. You can’t, you know, just make arbitrary decisions about who does and who does not get pie in the senior-staff dining room. You have to give pie to anyone who asks for a slice.
IL: Well, I know I’m supposed to. But you’ve had my desserts,carina. You know they are specially prepared—lovingly prepared, even—for very special people. I don’t feel I should have to share them with just anyone.
KM: But see, actually, Mrs. Lopez, you do. Because if you don’t, we get complaints, and then you know I have to ask you to come down here and—
IL: Oh, I know,carina. I’m not blaming you.
KM: And you know, it would be one thing if you owned your own bakeshop or restaurant, and you refused to serve law—I mean, people like Stuart Hertzog. But you’re employed by theNew York Journal,and the paper can’t have you refusing to serve—
IL: Their lead counsel. I understand, dear. I really do. And you warned me about it before. And so now I suppose that boss of yours wants you to fire me.
KM: Mrs. Lopez, you know I—
IL: It’s all right, Kate. No need to get upset. She likes Señor Hertzog. I know that.
KM: If there was anything I could—I mean, was Mr. Hertzog mean to you? Did he say something rude to you? Because if I could just give Amy—I mean, my superiors—a reason why you might have refused to serve Mr. Hertzog—
IL: Oh, he knows.
KM: Well, that’s just it. I mean, he says he doesn’t know.
IL: Oh no. He knows.
KM: Well, maybe if you could tell me—
IL: Oh, I couldn’t do that! Now, you must have Security escort me out.
KM: I’m so sorry, Mrs. Lopez. But, yes, I’m going to have to—
IL: It’s all right. One of them will be the Hopkins boy. He loves my cranberry scones. I’ll have to check to make sure I—Oh, yes, here’s one. It was so nice visiting with you,carina. Let’s see, you’re friends with that nice Señora Sadler. Here, be sure to give her this. My gingersnaps are her favorites, and I know that, with the baby shots and all, she’s very sad. But tell her she shouldn’t worry. She’ll have a nice baby girl by the end of next year.
KM: Mrs. Lopez—
IL: Oh, don’t cry,carina! I’m sure you’re not supposed to cry when you fire someone. Here, we’ll turn this off, so we don’t get you into—
To: Kate Mackenzie
Fr: Amy Jenkins
Re: Ida Lopez
Please see me first thing tomorrow morning concerning the recording of your interview with Ida Lopez, which I’ve just finished listening to.
Amy Denise Jenkins
Director
Human Resources
The New York Journal
216 W. 57th Street
New York, NY 10019
212-555-6890
This e-mail is intended only for the use of the individual to which it is addressed and may contain information that is privileged and confidential. If you are not the intended recipient, you are hereby notified that you have received this transmission in error; any review, dissemination, distribution, or copying of this transmission is prohibited. If you have received this communication in error, please notify us immediately by reply e-mail and delete this message and all of its attachments.
Appetizers
Soup of the Day
$3.75
Oh my God, I am so fired. I can’t believe how fired I am. Why did I have to start crying during the
Guacamole
$3.75
interview? Why didn’t I think to turn the tape off before I started bawling my head off?
Sweet Plantains
$3.75
Why can’t I be like the T.O.D.? SHE would never cry while firing someone. But I don’t WANT to be
Yucca Fries
$2.75
like the T.O.D. I hate her. I should just quit. Now I have to find a new job on top of a new apt. and
Nachos with Cheese
$3.95
boyfriend. WHY IS EVERYTHING BAD HAPPENING TO ME ALL AT ONCE???? And why
Nachos with Jalapenos
$4.95
can I never find my journal when I need it? Which begs the question, where is it? What if
Nachos with Beef
$5.95
Amy or one of the housekeeping staff finds it? And reads it? Then I will be fired for sure. And
Nachos Grandes
$6.95
where the hell is Jen? She said to meet at Lupe’s after work, and so I’m here but she’s not, and now I
Salsa Cruda
$1.50
am sitting here by myself pretending to be jotting important business notes on this menu so that creepy
Quesadillas
$3.50
guy in the corner won’t come over here and start talking to me. Must try to appear like imp. business
Quesadilla Grandes
$6.95
woman with no time for casual flirtation in Mexican restaurant. Oh my God, what if Jen doesn’t come
Mini Quesadilla Grandes
$5.95
and I end up having to eat here by myself and that guy comes over and tries to join me and it turns out
House Salad
$3.95
he’s the vestibule rapist and he follows me back to Jen’s building and pulls a knife on me? Thank
Mexican Salad
$5.95
God I took that self-defense class through the Staff Resource Program. Won’t he be surprised when
Mexican Grilled Chicken Salad
$8.25
I break his nasal cartilage with an upthrust heel of the hand and send it back into his brain stem, instantly
Mexican Bean Salad
$6.95
paralyzing him? Although on the whole I would much rather just meet Jen for drinks like we planned.
Sides
Oh, God, I need a beer. Poor Mrs. Lopez! I guess she is looking for a job now, too. Only she has
Chips
$1.00
a lot more chance than I do of getting something decent. Those cookies were delicious, anybody
Spanish Rice
$1.75
would hire her in a minute, whereas I am totally useless. I can only type 35 words per minute and God
Jalapenos
$1.00
knows I can’t supervise, my people skills are for shit, I can’t even get a decent boyfriend let alone tell
Sour Cream
$1.00
people how to do their jobs. It is such a joke, the paper hiring me, it is just a wonder I have even
Chopped Onion
$1.00
lasted this long, at this point I should just—Oh, there’s Jen, THANK GOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Dear Kate,
Sorry to leave a note taped up to the door like this (hi, Jen, hi, Craig), but it’s not like you’ve really given me much of an alternative. I mean, if you’d stop screening your calls at work and on your cell and pick up once in a while, I wouldn’t have to pull this stalkery crap. I’ve seriously got to talk to you, I’m going crazy here. You won’t return my messages, and every time I try to reach you at Jen’s, she says you’re out. I know you’re not out, I know you’re probably sitting right there on the couch right now watching freakingCharmed, or whatever.
Anyway, about that whole One Day at a Time thing. Look, maybe we WILL be together forever. Or maybe we won’t. I mean, I’m not omission. I can’t see into the future. I don’t know what’s going to happen.
Why can’t things go back to being the way they were, you know? How come all of a sudden we have to put, like, these labels on things? I mean, like why is it so important to you that I say I’ll love you forever? Why can’t I just say I love you, like, for now? Why isn’t that enough, all of a sudden? It was enough for the past ten years.
Katie, COME HOME. I miss you. The guys miss you, too.
Love,
Dale
P.S. I could really use your advice. The studio’s being really assholish, they’re trying to make us change our name from I’m Not Making Any More Sandwiches to just Sandwich. What kind of name is that for a band? Who’s gonna buy a record from a band called Sandwich?
Hi, you’ve reached Kate and Dale. We can’t come to the phone right now, so at the tone, please leave a message, and we’ll get back to you. Thanks!
(Tone)
Dale, you have got to change that message. I don’t live there anymore, remember? Anyway, about your note . . . Oh my God, I don’t even know why I called. Just forget it, okay? Nothing’s changed, I just—Oh, never mind.
(Click)
Hi, you’ve reached Kate and Dale. We can’t come to the phone right now, so at the tone, please leave a message, and we’ll get back to you. Thanks!
(Tone)
Oh my God, you have got to change that message. It’s Jen, by the way. You remember me, right? Your ex-girlfriend’s best friend? The word isomniscient, buddy, notomission. Got it? Good. Oh, also, don’t come around here anymore. You just make Kate sad. And no, I’m not drunk right now, but am totally hopped up on hormones, so you’d better be scared, because I swear to God, if I catch you around here again, I’ll—
(Click)
(Tone)
Hi, you’ve reached Kate and Dale. We can’t come to the phone right now, so at the tone, please leave a message, and we’ll get back to you. Thanks!
(Tone)
Stupid machine cut me off. I really mean it. Remember that time in college when I threatened to kick the ass of that friend of yours who brought the smack to the house party Kate and I had? Remember? I didn’t care that he had a gun, I wasn’t scared of him. Well, that’s what I’m going to do to you, too, bud, if you keep on. . . . What do you mean hang up the phone? No, I will not hang up the phone, Craig, I happen to be helping Kate. She had a very bad day and I am just—no, I am not making things worse, I’m helping. I happen to be a trained human resources representative, and I’m—don’t you—Give me that!
(Click)
Hi, you’ve reached Kate and Dale. We can’t come to the phone right now, so at the tone, please leave a message, and we’ll get back to you. Thanks!
(Tone)
Dude, it’s Craig. Sorry about that. Jen and Kate went out for mojitos, and Jen just had one, but she’s wasted. You know, she’s on all those fertility drugs, so she gets really drunk on just like one drink. So, sorry, man. I took the phone away from her and hid it in the closet. She should be all right in the morning. I hope.
(Click)
