Not only am I an adult, as I claimed a few days ago on this very blog, but I am a very nice adult. People like me.
Because I am good enough, I am smart enough, and gosh darn it.
I try to listen to people. I try to take them at face value. I talk. I share. Most people, especially my wife and children, consider me an extrovert. I am a terrible flirt. I love to poke fun. I like it when the poke fun favor is returned. All in all, my in person persona is not all that different from my non-inperson persona that you see here and when I comment on your blogs.
The office I work at now is located in a Regus center, an agency that rents out office space to people. I and my two coworkers each rent an office there. It’s nice with a fitness center, gourmet cafeteria, underground heated parking, receptionists, coffee service, kitchen, postal center. There is a diverse crowd here with a lot of different races and ethnicities represented —
Myank, a professional writer with a warm personality who always greets me and stops to talk. He is interesting to talk to just from his experiences as a writer for Associated Press. I like hearing his take on the world, a balanced view that reflects not only his experience and education, but his culture.
Nancy, a petite 50ish regional director for a woman’s clothing retail chain. She has a real down home air about her, mixed with the affluence that is common here in the western suburbs of Chicago. My boss has a thing for her.
Jay, a quiet but friendly guy who the women in the office drool over (I have witnessed it, heard the lust in their voice when they talk about him). The guy is addicted to golf. He stops by my office now and then to catch up on things, wants to know how my son is doing with his golf. It’s dangerous when he and I get into a conversation. We can talk forever.
Annie, one of the Regus center managers, a tiny woman with a big laugh and smile, always clad in a nice dress with heels. We bonded right away and I can honestly say she is one of the best friends I have here, besides my boss. When her husband comes to visit her, he always stops by to see me because I was one of the first people Annie wanted him to meet. She flirts a little, pokes fun and takes it back, a pleasure to talk to.
And then there is Dennis. Dennis is gregarious, one of those people that seems to always be here, wandering the halls. Friendly and unassuming, he is one of those guys that seems to like everyone. He is a little odd, one of those people that will latch on to you if you treat him as if you don’t notice that he is odd. I try. I listen to Dennis and honestly enjoy talking to him. My boss thinks that is funny, calls Dennis my best buddy. Dennis also has a crush on Annie, so that makes him want to be around me more. I like Dennis, but some times I also have to tolerate him , an awful thing to say. He shows up at my office door randomly, invites himself in, hangs out while I work or write emails or even talk to customers on the phone.
Today a Dennis visit took a strange turn. One might say that Dennis is very comfortable around me. Mid morning, there was a knock on my door and it opened before I could answer.
“I wonder if you could help me with something?” Dennis asked as he closed the door behind him, turned towards the door, lifted the back of his shirt for me to see. I thought that maybe Dennis was going to show me his disease. Come Together started playing in my head.
“I just went to the chiropractor but he didn’t remove the electrodes. Can you pull them off for me?” Sure enough, a little of the wire had looped into his belt loop and two sets of wires led up his back to where the electrodes were stuck to his back. I grabbed each electrode, ripped them off (Dennis didn’t flinch) then reached up his back to remove the two remaining.
My boss is going to love this story.