January 03, 2005
Pepe, you're not the man I thought you were.
I think I'm being wooed by our printing company's delivery driver. Not the cute spiky-haired teenager, and not the surfer guy, the other one. The one who always calls me by my name, gives me an astoundingly cheery smile out of all proportion to the excitement involved in delivering a set of drawings, asks me how I've been, tells me it's good to see me, and insists on shaking my hand before he leaves. But lest you think he's just being friendly and I'm jumping to conclusions, here's the other thing he apparently does.
Sends me a Christmas card. Not the general Christmas card that their office sent our office, but a separate Christmas card left on my desk in an envelope with my name on it. "For you, Dianna," he wrote inside above the printed greeting, and signed his name along with the words "[company name] driver" in case I didn't recognize the name.
It's a nice try. He didn't do himself any favors by secretly shaking the Mexican architect's hand while I was out sick, though. Did he think I wasn't going to hear about that? Hussy. Maybe next time he comes in I should slap him in the face and inform him that it's over between us.
Posted by dianna at January 3, 2005 02:00 PM
i want the cute spiky-haired teenager! will you give him a christmas card for me? it should say, "for you, jail-bait. from, michele, (friend of dianna's)." i dunno if i need the paranthetical explanation, since no doubt he will recognize my name. wait...is it even a boy?
Oh, that is kind of an important question, isn't it. Yes, he's a boy. I mean, fair warning here, I can't promise you absolutely that he's a teenager. He's at least old enough to drive a car. But he looks like he's barely 16, which is all that really matters.
Next time he comes in I'll give him your phone number wrapped around a piece of candy from the candy jar. How's that?
I chickened out! He came in and mentioned the card, and I totally missed my chance to give him hell about his illicit hand-shaking. I even let him shake my damn hand again! WHY?!
don't tease, dianna. don't tease.
Maybe tomorrow I'll pretend that I only just heard about the handshaking thing, and call him out on it. Then the next day I'll take my picture of Jacob and place it prominently on the top of my desk facing the door so he sees it. If he leaves crying I'll call the company and tell them to buy him a nice cup of hot chocolate to make him feel better. I'll even tell them they can bill us for it if they'd like.