My Story Doesn't Change Much

Now is earlier than normal for me putting thing here, but here I am, doing it anyway.

I went out to lunch today. Those of you who remember, remember that I wrote a while ago that I go once a month. This was my second time this month. I went last week (Wednesday, I think) because I didn't want to pack a lunch in the morning and the day was warm and quick food was good. Today, I went because if I didn't I was going to kill my supervisor.

Last week, she ate her lunch at the same time as me, and I survived. This week, she also gave herself lunch at the same time as me and I'm ready to commence maiming.

Why do I want to maim? I want to maim her because she's one of those people who can't stand a silence during a meal. All I want to do is eat and read while I'm sitting in the "break room." She doesn't. She comes in and talks about her son (who's older than I am) making tuna, as she heats up her rice bowl from Costco or Trader Joe's. Then she complains about the rice bowl. Then she just wants to sit and chat. If I'm lucky, she wants to make a phone call to her husband or daughter, in which case she announces that she's leaving because she doesn't want to disturb me, which seems ironic to me because it's easier for me to ignore conversations that aren't directed at me than the conversations she wants me actively involved in; if she really wanted to not disturb me she wouldn't speak at me.

Yesterday, I wasn't lucky. I was blowing on leftovers from Monday's dinner, to cool them off, when she came in and commenced with the small talk:

• She couldn't get a hold of her daughter the night before and now she's not picking up her phone.
• She still doesn't like the rice bowls she bought.
• It's sure gotten cold out there compared to last week, but more like the weather should be. Too bad winter isn't more like spring. (I wanted to point out that would probably make spring more like summer and summer more like fall, but knew enough to keep my mouth shut.)
• It's supposed to rain later this week.
• The new computers are nice.
• There are too many "f-words" in movies and that just makes them less enjoyable.
• Everyone should own a cell phone so everyone can stay in touch with everyone else all the time.

Eventually, she wore herself out and asked, but not really to me, if one of the court reporters brought a paper today. My insides ached hoping that there was a paper for my supervisor to read. And there was.

She started to read. Then she started to read to me:

• The vice president shot a man while hunting.
• There was a quiz in here that, if you're over fifty, can predict how long you have to live.
• The man the vice president shot had a heart attack. They found some bird shot in his heart.
• The Family Circus is my favorite comic. Nothing is better.
• The quiz says she only has a four percent chance of dying in the next year.
• They say the vice president didn't have a license to hunt.

When lunch, yesterday, came to an end, I wondered if it should even count as a lunch. For what I had to deal with, I thought I should have been paid time and a half.

I was going to eat lunch here today, but when I saw her heading for the "break room" I made a left and walked right out of the building.

Today's lunch was quick, cheap, and tasteless, but it was still better than yesterday's.

Tomorrow's may be quite similar to today's.

Oh, yeah, there's a new guy here. I think I mentioned him before. He's okay. His work ethic is a lot like mine was when I started. He gets his pile of work and goes for it, trying to finish it as quickly as possible then sits and looks confused for a little while until our supervisor walks over to his desk and asks him if he needs something to do. If he only has a question, she answers is, but his is a very rare situation. When he's finished all his work and tells her so, she gives him more to do, but it's usually busywork. (This morning, when he finished his work and told her so, she made him move all the old computers into the back and then restack them for some reason.) I'm sure that, in time, he'll come to be like the rest of use here, plugging away slowly at our work, trying not to get too far ahead so he doesn't get caught not being busy enough and asked to do pointless busywork.

There are two things that I irritate me about him, though. One is that after we talk, he calls me "chief." I think he calls everyone "chief," or something similar, but I don't like it. I asked him to please call me by my name, or nothing at all, and he stops for a little while but starts up again, eventually. The second thing is usually involved with the first pretty directly, but I find it much more irritating. Whenever he asks a question and gets an answer, he says, "Ten four." (I have often heard, "Ten four, chief.") If someone tells him something that he needs to know, he says, "Ten four."

I think he says that phrase a couple of hundred times a day and I wish he'd stop. The more I hear him say it, the more it sounds like a kiss off.

I suppose that the more he learns, the less I'll be hearing "ten four," but right now, I don't want to wait. I just want it to be over.