The Discomfort Inn

Mom has told me that bad things always happen in threes. Like her sons, for instance. (*distorted rimshot*) Her wisdom came to fruition at the library when I was subjected to some uncomfortable conversations. Three of them! And bad!

The first was with Karen and Jonah. I was called into the office to participate in... something. Jonah looked apathetic and angry, slumped in his chair, while Karen looked manic and buzzy, leaning forward in hers.

"I told you at the start I didn't want to fight," Jonah said.

"I don't want to fight either, of course I don't!"

"Then why are you fighting with me about not fighting?"

"You are the one fighting about my non-fighting. I'm not fighting you about the fighting of this fight."

"Fhffh," Jonah said, with a world-weary weltanschauung-y Hegelian sigh.

"What do you mean by that?!"

The not fight was about schedules, something that's de rigueur these days, and Jonah was merely pointing out that he was making concessions while others were not. But he didn't want to fight.

"And I'm not fighting you on that."

"So what are we fighting about?"

"Who says we're fighting?"

"Uh," I said finally. "I think we should all agree not to say the word fight."

"SHUT UP, GREG," Karen and Jonah said.

"Sorry."


The second was with Karen and Todd. I was getting confused as to what schedule was being changed and why and who the what, now. Which meant that I had Todd on the schedule as coming in at noon when in fact Todd had the idea he was coming in at ten. Is anyone still awake? ANYWAY-- Todd blew in on his bitchin' board, his hair askew and akimbo, his bod looking cut in his fishnet tanktop. Karen greeted him with a warm smile and a screech.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!?!? YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE HERE TWO HOURS LATER!?!"

"Thanks? I love feeling welcome at work!"

I was called into the office to officiate their fi-- er, donnybrook. Todd looked wild and angry, like a desert prophet, while Karen looked ashen and wobbly, like a ballerina with shark teeth.

"You have to stop doing this, Karen," Todd said with beardly fury. A vein twitched in his cheek. "You need to stop being so manic! I don't want to fight with you, but you make it really hard."

"I don't want to fight either! I--"

"Let me stop you there," I said. "We aren't fighting. Okay? No one is fighting. Indeed, let's just try to find a compromise and maybe a better shirt for me to wear."

Things settled a smidge. Todd apologized for getting all Old Testament on Karen, while Karen laughed wheezily. She waved at her office wall festooned with children's drawings and craft projects.

"You see all this crazy crap? [My boss] would never have her office like this! I'm just a nut, aren't I?"

"There's an alligator wearing sunglasses," I said. "Now I've seen everything!"

It was only ten thirty and already I had been made to feel uncomfortable TWICE. What happened to the library being a place of quiet contemplation etc etc? But, wait, there was more!


The third was with Dennis and Jonah. Who be Dennis, you don't ask? He's some fellow Karen brought in for our Coffee n Conversation program that afternoon. Dennis was a Duluth tour guide and with his ponytail and soul patch was prepared to have a debate about all the development going on in the Ruby Creek area. But no one from the public came by. So he was left with Karen, Jonah, me and the donuts.

"I like the glazed, but chocolate can fill that yawning abyss inside myself," I said. "Heh heh."

I was ignored as Dennis and Jonah proceeded to argue about gentrification.

"You're using the modal verb when you say that," Dennis said, the bristles on his soul patch gyrating. "If you take out the adverb in your sentence it would make more sense. I'm an English teacher."

"And I'm an English student," Jonah said. "You can't attack me on semantics when you won't define the idea. And I find you repugnant."

"You keep answering my questions with another question!" Dennis cried. "This is just like when I argue with my husband--he always answers a question with another question."

"You are a hack, sir."

"Heh heh, let's not fight?" I said, the clammy spots under my arms remoistening yet again. "Remember that Simpsons when they addressed gentrification with the healing medicine of laughter?"

(Just be careful how you open that slot...)

"I can see there's no point in debating with you," Dennis said, huffing his patch huffily.

"You said you wanted a debate!" Jonah said.

"I'm sorry I failed to articulate what I mean."

"I accept your failure."

"Heh heh. That was the Hank Scorpio episode. Does anyone want a donut? I can't eat them all... Heh heh... Er... Donuts?"


To end my perfect day, I was walking to Chipotle to roll some burritos when a guy in a giant Chevy Tahoe made a U-turn in an intersection and nearly ran me over.

"Just doing some gentrifyin'!" he yelled from his open window.

"Sorry!" I said.

And that is my message to you, reader: Sorry.