"I don't know if I want to sit next to a stranger on a nine hour flight," Mom said. She pushed her eggs over at me. "You eat these eggs. They're good for you."
"I don't want them."
"Well, I don't want them, either."
"Then why did you order them?"
"I can't eat the eggs here. They gave me bad diarrhea once."
"Right. So why... never mind."
"Going first class seems too expensive. But I just love British Airways and all the British people! They fly you to London non-stop. I don't want to wear the pajamas, though."
"Mom, I don't think they force you to wear pajamas."
"Oh, I'm sure there's a curtain where you can change. But I don't want to do it."
"They will make you, Mom. They will make you. The flight attendant will scowl at you with her British teeth. So if you're flying first-class to London then by God you will wear jammies!!"
"I don't want these sausages, either. Is that all you're having is oatmeal?"
"So do you not want to hear about the library anymore?"
"No, no." Mom sighed. "Go on."
"Anyway, I was helping a customer who had all the charm of Zyklon B when Karen summoned me to the office. She wanted the scorecard evaluations for the candidates we had interviewed. But I didn't have them because I had thrown them out like a jackass. I didn't want to tell her that, since she'd probably get utterly hysterical, which is her basic operating style, so I said I had them in my car. I went to my locker and pretended to get my keys and coat, waiting for Karen to look the other way. Finally, a bug on the wall caught her attention. While she yelled at it, I snuck around to the trash can--but the papers weren't in there for some reason, even though I know for sure I had put them there. This was bad. Karen had said it was really, really important that HR get them, otherwise they'd set off a neutron bomb in our asses. Are you listening, Mom?"
"That woman over there has hair just like a poodle's."
I looked around. "Yes, just another Felliniesque character at the Perk. Anyway, it occurred to me that maybe someone put my papers in the recycling bin. Sure enough, there they were. So the question is, who is the freaking busybody who takes out trash and relocates it in the recycling?? I mean, thank God for that person, right? Hurrah, the planet is saved! Strike up the band!! JEREMIAH WAS A BULLFROG!!"
"Are you having a stroke?"
"Karen was relieved when I handed the papers to her, since the fate of the free world hung on our scribbles. The other day she had handwritten signs
STOP!! CHANGE PASSWORD TO 16 or MORE CHARACTER PASSPHRASE now
and taped them to all the computers. We'd already had several emails from IT reminding us, plus Karen had a few more screechy emails to add of her own. It's just too much. Like when she found out that other libraries weren't exactly following the rules that she wanted to enforce, against the will of her staff, she started yelling f this and f that, stamping her boots and jumping up and down. It was quite the spectacle. Sometimes I wonder if she's going to collapse right in front of us."
"So you don't want to eat your sausage?"
"No, no, I'm eating it. Anyway, I had lunch with Dad the other day."
"Did you?" The temperature dropped significantly. The poodle-haired lady rubbed her withered arms.
"Yes. At one point he asked me if I had any 'female companionship' in my life. I told him that if bananas can't get any, why should I?"
"What are you talking about? And won't you eat the last of this biscuit for me?"
Get your Freudian fruits, people!
"You'd think with shades and a cool attitude like that, the female bananas would be ALL over that action. But, just like me, alas, I told Dad I was a single banana."
"I'm calling the doctor right now."
"Will I get to wear pajamas?!?"
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