On Being Terminally Pink

Stella has always said that the biggest benefit of being black is that no one knows when you're blushing. Generally this comment comes after she's provoked me into an unnatural shade of magenta, a tactic for which she has an almost-unfailing instinct.

Ian, as predicted, came back Wednesday. I had finally decided to take a "sick (of you bastard people and your bastard database)" day, so I didn't get to talk to him til yesterday.

This morning I got a call from Beverly. (Fridays are Beverly's day off, but generally she plagues the life out of me from a distance anyway.) "I was talking to Samuel yesterday," she said, "and he said Ian was having problems with the new database and he's pretty sure it's Ian's computer. So do we have a spare we can give him?" I told her I would look into it.

Ten minutes later, I get a call from Cathy. "Beverly says for you to give Ian a new computer," she told me.

"Yes, I know," I told her. "I just got off the phone with her."

Fifteen minutes later? Ian calls. "Beverly told me to call you and tell you to get me a new computer," he said.

"Yeah, that's what I've been hearing," I told him.

"So when can I have it?" he asked. (Any question, even a question being asked for the third time in less than half an hour, is less annoying when delivered in a British accent.)

"Well, I mean, it depends on when we order it, and..."

"What about Delora's old computer?" he asked.

Delora's been gone for about two months now, and her position still hasn't been filled. And she did have a practically-new computer, which I had totally not thought of. "Okay...I'll set it up and call you when it's ready."

So, about an hour later, I call him and tell him he can come over for his computer. And of course, evil evil Stella is right there.

Stella is absolutely my best friend at work. She started about a year after I did, and even though she's substantially older and from an entirely different background, when we get together we act like a couple of high-school freshmen, laughing and giggling and shit-talking all over the place. Nancy, Stella's officemate, is in on most of the goofiness as well--a holdover from the few months when the three of us shared an office, before they decided it would be better to separate us. Even Big Boss Beverly, on the days when Satan is NOT possessing her brain, occasionally joins in the fun. So I know Stella well enough to know that trouble is coming when she does what she does next.

She walks up to Rachel, one of the assistants, and puts out her hand. "Slap me," she says. "I'm being evil."

"All right, what did you do this time?" I ask her from around the corner of the desk.

"Well, I haven't done it yet," she said.

"Are you gonna provoke Hank some more? Do you need to go to church?"

"No...I was just gonna start talking about YOU."

"Oh, like THAT would be a change. Like you don't ALREADY put my business out in the street regularly...."

She looks over my shoulder and positively SIMPERS: "Oh, HIIIII, Ian...."

Fortunately my back was to Ian at this point, and at any rate he was more focussed on getting his new computer, because I swear to you I felt curls of smoke come off the tips of my ears. You could have grilled a steak on my face, I was so flushed. And of course, Stella and Rachel start giggling.

"See?" Stella says. "That's the nice thing about being black. Nobody can see when you're doing THAT!"

And of course, I'm laughing my ass off at this point, because I can recognize that yes, I've been got--and I know full well that yes, I do look like a tomato. So I do the only two things I can reasonably do to maintain my dignity under the circumstances: one, shoot Stella the bird, and two, head out to the other building.

Thank god for the other building.

I have GOT to learn to control my blood vessels.