Went for another swim today. What a beautiful, windy, wild autumnal day it was here in Queens! And I have to say that I’m just so grateful for each day that I wake up beside my darling man. Every day he makes me laugh, and often. And the love that we have for one another brings me to tears, mostly unexpectedly, in the midst of the most ordinary moments. Our lives together continue to make me a better person, a better spirit, a better soul. My Honey Rocks. And I’m just so incredibly grateful. So. There.
And something else made me feel grateful today. I was swimming, doing my usual laps, and I hear one of the regular swimmer-guys say to another swimmer guy: “She’s always a good one to get in a lane with. She’s a very courteous swimmer.” And I realize that he’s referring to ME!
Okay, now, I don’t wanna seem like some kind of conceited swimmer-babe here. But I honestly felt like screaming HALLELUJAH!!! when I heard this. Because there are so many frigging thoughtless, never-staying-in-their-lane yahoos at that pool and I always feel like I’m trying my best to be…yes…COURTEOUS…and that finally…FINALLY SOMEBODY IS GIVING ME MY PROPS ABOUT THAT!!!
So that was thrilling. For about 10 minutes until some other yahoo slammed into me. But what can ya do. Grab your thrills where you can, I always say.
* * * * * *
Anyway, I’ve been ranting about this LISA gal for my last couple of blog-posts and today I’m gonna wrap it up with her.
So back at the office, and Lisa’s back on the Atkins. She’s been on the phone all morning ordering what sounds like a freight-load of goodies from OMAHA STEAKS. (“Didn’t you use to have FILET MIGNON wrapped in CANADIAN BACON? No? Are you SURE? I could SWEAR you used to carry that…Well, I guess just send the steaks then and I’ll have to get the bacon separately. Dammit…”)
And here’s what happened next. She’s apparently all caught up in the important phone call, and a homeless man wandered in off the street. He shuffles past Rita at the front desk. Rita was busy on an actual business call and assumed he was a client of Lisa’s. So the homeless dude pokes his head into Lisa’s doorway and asks her if he can use the bathroom. And she just nods “yes” and points in the direction of the bathroom. And he goes in to the LADIES ROOM. He stays in there for a pretty long time.
Meanwhile, I have no idea any of this is going on. I’m sitting in my little back office, surfing the web and listening with half an ear to Lisa babbling on the phone.
But then Rita appears in my doorway, her face ashen. She really looks sick, almost like she could faint.
Rita: “Lynn.” Her voice is filled with dread.
Me: “What’s wrong?”
Rita: “Lisa let some homeless man into our Ladies Room.”
Me: “O my god. What happened.”
Rita: “I don’t know. I thought he was a patient of hers, but he wasn’t. He went into our LADIES ROOM…”
Me: “And?…. AND???…”
Rita: “Don’t go in there.”
Me: “WHAT??? IS HE STILL IN THERE?”
Rita: “No, he left. He was a horrible mess, completely decrepit. I went to look and…just…don’t go in there.”
Me: “WHAT DID HE DO?”
Rita: “I don’t know, I just opened the door a tiny bit but then I had to slam it quick. It’s bad, Lynn. It’s really bad, whatever he did. It’s…it’s like he had a TOXIC MISCARRIAGE in there or something…”
Me: “OH FOR GOD’S SAKE…What are we supposed to DO now?”
Rita: “Use the MEN’s Room, I guess…”
Me: “And what? Just leave the Ladies Room door closed FOREVER while whatever is in there festers until it gains momentum and destroys us all???”
Rita just stares at me, wide-eyed, her hands clapped over her mouth.
“JESUS,” I spew, standing up: “I AM GONNA KILL that idiot LISA!! I’m gonna make her clean it up, whatEVER the fuck it is…”
Rita: “I think she left.”
I get up to go look for Lisa, but sure enough she’s not around. She went and slipped out, real sneaky-like.
I turn in the hallway to look at the closed LADIES ROOM door. I sure as hell wasn’t gonna open it. The MENS ROOM would have to do until we sorted out this ungodly mess.
* * * * * *
That LADIES ROOM door remained closed for another 2 full days before we finally got the gumption to call a cleaning service to come in and exorcise the works. It wasn’t a matter of laziness or neglect. We were just horrified at the prospect of calling ANYONE in to have to deal with whatever was behind that door.
Lisa was chastised about her role in the whole thing, but she steadfastly claimed that she thought the homeless guy was one of our clients. Which, if you’d ever seen some of our seedier clients, I guess it could be possible. So anyhow, in a civilized manner, we all agreed it would be fair to split the cost of the cleanup job.
* * * * * *
The poor cleanup man who came. That poor, poor man. He came in, bright and chipper. Cheerfully telling us that OURS WAS HIS LAST JOB for 2 weeks…that THIS VERY AFTERNOON he would be on an airplane, going to visit his family in Antigua or Barbados some fucking thing.
And all I can say is that he left our office a broken man. We will never know what had been perpetrated in that LADIES ROOM, what the (once) cheerful cleanup man encountered. He certainly did not provide us with details. We tipped him handsomely, but it hardly mattered. He was broken.
To this day, I pray he enjoyed the best vacation of his life and in addition, has since won the lottery.
* * * * * * *
On the final day that we were moving out of that office, Lisa comes busting in on me. I am surrounded by boxes, dismantled computer gear, and deep in the process of emptying my desk.
Lisa: “I HAVE A PATIENT COMING IN LIKE 4 MINUTES, BUT I WILL DIE IF I DON’T GO TO DUNKIN’ FOR A COFFEE. CAN YOU PLEASE COME UP AT THE FRONT DESK AND WAIT FOR HER WHILE I GET MY COFFEE?”
Me: “No.”
Lisa: “What do you mean? Just for a minute!”
Me: “No, I can’t do that for you.”
She shuts her mouth for once, looks genuinely puzzled. I can actually hear her brain: Is she serious?
I look at her: “I’m busy here. Take care of your own patients, Lisa. Take care of your own shit. Ever think of doing that?”
She pauses for just a moment before huffing out. And she heads over to DUNKIN’.
I never saw her again after that. I don’t know if her client ever came or not, because I started blasting AEROSMITH and therefore wouldn’t have heard anything from up front.
She never even picked up on that fact that we were moving, despite all the boxes and stuff. She never picked up on much.
Yeah, it’s certainly a process. But sooner or later, you start to figure out what’s important.
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