A conversation, from a long time ago
A Conversation, from a long time ago...
Once upon a time, I worked a summer at a Holiday Inn. It wasn't a bad job, except that I had to be there at 4:30 in the morning.
I'd get there, and I'd usually end up working the last hour and a half with the Night Auditor. We called him Crazy James. Not to his face. We called him that because his name was James, and because he was Bat. Shit. Crazy.
This has little to do with why I write, but probably most illustrative of how off James was...on more than one occasion, I'd be talking to James, and before he'd reply to something I'd said or asked, there'd be a pause.
For example...
"Hi James, how ya doing?"
(pause)
"Fine."
At first, I thought he was choosing his words. I've known people who speak carefully and precisely, and they choose to think of a whole statement before they reply.
I chalked it up to that, until I realized that when James was pausing, he was cocking his head to the left, and shifting his eyes in that direction.
Like he was listening to someone who might have been telling them how to reply.
Anyway.
Here's the conversation I thought of...
I had to go in and wrap newspapers before the day started, because the people in the Members Club at Holiday Inn got a USA Today delivered to their rooms. And there was a picture of a dolphin up on one of the corners of the paper, leading you to the D section to read something about dolphins.
I asked, trying to be funny: "Hey James? What do you think Dolphin tastes like?"
"That's not funny, Tommy," James said, never turning to meet my gaze, and pausing before each statement.
"Why not?"
"Dolphins are beautiful creatures. They're smart. They sing beautifully."
"What do they sing about?"
(a long pause)
"Birthdays, I'd guess. And holidays," he says, and he pauses. He pauses so long I think the conversation is over, until he turns in his swivel chair, and levels me with this horrible, sobering gaze.
He points a finger in my direction and says, "Dolphins don't celebrate Christmas."
"Okay," was all I could say to that.
He then turned back in his swivel chair, and went back to his work. He didn't say anything else to me that morning, but the rest of his shift he kept giving me these looks that told me he was horribly, horribly disgusted with me....
Very little to that. I think about that conversation every now and then. Sometimes I laugh. Sometimes I'm just glad James didn't stab me to death.
Latigo Flint was talking about life's journeys, and this post here got me thinking about that conversation I had long ago....
Once upon a time, I worked a summer at a Holiday Inn. It wasn't a bad job, except that I had to be there at 4:30 in the morning.
I'd get there, and I'd usually end up working the last hour and a half with the Night Auditor. We called him Crazy James. Not to his face. We called him that because his name was James, and because he was Bat. Shit. Crazy.
This has little to do with why I write, but probably most illustrative of how off James was...on more than one occasion, I'd be talking to James, and before he'd reply to something I'd said or asked, there'd be a pause.
For example...
"Hi James, how ya doing?"
(pause)
"Fine."
At first, I thought he was choosing his words. I've known people who speak carefully and precisely, and they choose to think of a whole statement before they reply.
I chalked it up to that, until I realized that when James was pausing, he was cocking his head to the left, and shifting his eyes in that direction.
Like he was listening to someone who might have been telling them how to reply.
Anyway.
Here's the conversation I thought of...
I had to go in and wrap newspapers before the day started, because the people in the Members Club at Holiday Inn got a USA Today delivered to their rooms. And there was a picture of a dolphin up on one of the corners of the paper, leading you to the D section to read something about dolphins.
I asked, trying to be funny: "Hey James? What do you think Dolphin tastes like?"
"That's not funny, Tommy," James said, never turning to meet my gaze, and pausing before each statement.
"Why not?"
"Dolphins are beautiful creatures. They're smart. They sing beautifully."
"What do they sing about?"
(a long pause)
"Birthdays, I'd guess. And holidays," he says, and he pauses. He pauses so long I think the conversation is over, until he turns in his swivel chair, and levels me with this horrible, sobering gaze.
He points a finger in my direction and says, "Dolphins don't celebrate Christmas."
"Okay," was all I could say to that.
He then turned back in his swivel chair, and went back to his work. He didn't say anything else to me that morning, but the rest of his shift he kept giving me these looks that told me he was horribly, horribly disgusted with me....
Very little to that. I think about that conversation every now and then. Sometimes I laugh. Sometimes I'm just glad James didn't stab me to death.
Latigo Flint was talking about life's journeys, and this post here got me thinking about that conversation I had long ago....
posted by Tommy at
14:54
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