“So Bob, My buddy ‘Fred’”,
Joe starts the game, feet up on his desk, bouncing a little red rubber ball off
the near wall.
“Please Joe, could you
at least come up with a more realistic name,” Bob pleads. Bob works for Joe. Bob is the brightest stats man Joe has seen
in his 40 years of generalizing people.
Bob has the cocksure attitude that comes with the lethal combination of
youth and genius.
“Kid’s got no fear. He whips out correct statistical answers to
my scenarios like nobody I seen. Kind
of reminds me of a young me. Sniff,” Joe would often say. Joe knew painfully well how costly a mistake
could be. That’s why he insisted on
these scenarios, “You can never be too sharp, kid,”
“More realistic
name? You mean like ‘Bob or ‘Joe’” Joe
countered. So the old man still had it
after all.
“Touche. Continue,” Bob submitted.
“Job Title,” Joe wasn’t
wasting any time this morning.
“Software Engin …
Wait. How old is he?” Bob quickly
realized his near mistake.
“Careful Bob. You don’t want to lose this easy. He’s 47.
Turns 48 at the end of this month.”
“Ok, Senior Software Engineer,” Bob answered
with a bit of a suppressed fake yawn, digging at his thumbnail with a
fingernail.
“Car,” If Bob missed an
answer there were no more questions. It would be time for him to go hit the books and see where he went wrong.
“Did The New Numbers
come in?” Bob asked nonchalantly as if changing
the subject.
“Wouldn’t you like to
know,” came Joe’s smug response.
“ Doesn't matter to me at
all. 2002 Honda Accord. Silver,” said Bob taking off a loafer to rub
the arch of his left foot.
It just seems so
effortless, Joe thought. I think that’s the most amazing part. His
presentation. Let’s see how he deals
with my little surprise.
“The New Numbers,” they
were talking about was an electronic document that was published every 4 weeks or
so. It contained any changes to any
demographic imaginable. Companies like
Bob and Joe’s would integrate this information into their systems for all of their
important calculations and business related things and stuff. It was really professional.
Every once in a while,
something strange would show up. Maybe 2
or 3 times a year, one item would seem so off base that it had to be a
mistake. It usually was. This time, however, Joe had received “The New
Numbers” and personally verified the accuracy one of the strangest tidbits he’d
seen in the whole of his 40 years as a big time hotshot actuarial guy.
“Shop or Dealer,” Joe
knew these were too easy. He was baiting
the kid. He noticed thankfully that the
kid was getting suspicious.
“Come on Joe. It’s me.
Bob,” Bob said, only to get a blank stare from Joe.
“Stalling?” Attaboy Joe.
Accuse him of not being able to answer the easy ones.
With an exasperated
sigh, Bob answered Joe’s pedantic question, “Shop. Exclusive Honda Repair of Omaha. Scheduled maintenance at the change of the
season, blah blah blah. C’mon Joe.
What is this?”
“Zombies?”, there it is
kid. Take that one.
The blood ran from Bob’s
face. Bob had a way of memorizing facts
that was similar to a filing system.
When he was asked any of these questions he would simply visualize going
to the appropriate drawer and retrieving the information he was asked. Years of doing this, and it appeared as magic
to the untrained eye. But now, he was at
a loss. He did not understand the
question. In the split second from the time
Joe said the word ‘Zombies’ to when Bob dropped his loafer, he had imagined
going to a file drawer called ‘Zombie’.
There wasn’t one though. He
truly needed more information.
“I’m afraid I don’t …”
Bob started.
Pretending his patience
was being tried, Joe calmly restated his obscure question, “Does ‘Fred’ believe
in zombies?”
What kind of trick is this? The old man’s got something. Think.
He’s been baiting me. What is it? The Auto Shop? Zombies?
Oh well. Whatever. I’m tired of this game, “No, Of course
not. No Zombies. That doesn't even make any sense. He also doesn't believe in Vampires despite
all of the blogging evidence to the contrary.
Nor does he believe in the Easter Bunny or Santa Claus for that matter. Where you going with this, Joe?” Bob was having a difficult time coping with
this new feeling. He was able to
identify it in a mental file cabinet called ‘Disoriented’.
“In answer to one of your earlier questions Bob, yes, ‘The
New Numbers’ came in,” Joe said with a touch of a grin. He was really getting a kick out of
this. Then he reached over to push the
button on his archaic intercom thing and said into it, “Marilyn, would you show
Renaud in, please …”
~~~
From time to time, under
certain conditions and for the briefest of scary moments, I might be tricked
into believing I’m seeing a Zombie uprising before reason has a chance to
intervene. I know this because that's what happened this morning as I
pulled into a parking space at Exclusive Honda Repair.
On Tuesday, I called the
shop and explained that I needed to bring my car in for an oil change and to
talk about some things including whether or not it’s worth making certain costly
repairs. I plan on trading the car in
for a new one in a few months and wanted to know if Mabel (My Car’s name that I
gave it just now) could get by for a few months without doing any of the maintenance.
“Yeah sure, we can check
it out for you. How’s Thursday Morning
work,” the nice Honda repairman asked.
“Thursday’s perfect,” I
cheerfully shot back. Those Exclusive
Honda guys always put me in a good mood.
But something seemed different as the phone call continued.
“Brains?” Said the
Repairman, whose name is Jim.
“Hmm? What?”
I said. Totally confused.
“Name?” repeated the
repairman/potential Zombie.
“Oh, huh huh. Cube.
Fred Cube. I thought you said …”
“Will you be waiting here
or dropping the car off,” Asked Jim.
“I’ll just wait, if that’s
ok. I won’t have any work done Thursday,
I just want advice on what I should do.”
I explained.
“Okey – dokey, see you
brains,” finished Jim as the phone went dead.
The shop opens promptly
at 7AM. If you get there a little
earlier than that, there’s usually somebody there to get started on your
car. You can be out of there by 7:15 on
most days. But this is October. The evilest of all the months portrayed in the
yearly issue of “The Calendar”.
I timed this morning
perfectly. I left the house at 6:34 and
went up to QT to get a cup of coffee and make sure my oil level was not
low. I know. It makes no sense. If it was a quart low or something, I would
have added a quart and taken it directly to Exclusive to have it drained and
replaced. I guess if I do that, I can be
all like “Don’t you just hate those guys who never check their oil.” Yeah – joshing around with the
mechanics. Just one more thing that will
never come naturally to me.
Taking the left turn
across Leavenworth Street into The Exclusive Honda Repair Parking Lot, I
noticed it was completely dark. No
lights inside. No parking lot
lights. No cars in the lot other than
mine. This was odd. Normally, there’s at least 7 or 8 Honda/Acuras
in the lot. Oh well. Better parking for me!
As I pulled into a
parking spot closest to the south garage door on the west side of the lot, the
beams from my headlights swept across the guardrail that demarks the perimeter
of the lot. It took a moment to
register, but I had momentarily lit upon a hand reaching up to the guardrail
from outside the lot. It was now dark
over there, but I could see a shadowy figure seemingly pulling itself out
of the ground and into the Exclusive Honda Repair Parking lot. EEK!
In my confusion, I realized it was obviously a Zombie. Bald head.
Dirty Grey Coveralls. That’s
definitely standard Zombie issue.
Because I behave like
some idiot in a Zombie movie, I did not throw the car into reverse and screech
out of the parking lot to save my soul.
I just sat there like some movie victim and watched
this – this, THING emerge. This Bald headed,
coverall wearing – Zombie with a lunch pail?
That’s when I realized
something was going on that was only slightly less weird than a zombie
uprising.
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