like a humble servant, i sat there nodding and undressing colleen smith, director of the sales department. with crisp and unwavering interview eyes, she went on and on about profit margins while i unbuttoned her MBA and groped around her sagging childhood. in one hand, i held her soft(more) grassy dreams buried in green gables and in the other hand, a pregnant and swollen teat being sucked dry by the weight of her prestigious new office.
"by the next quarter we'll have expanded into new york and california," she said. "these are lucrative times, and we'd be happy to have you aboard."
"doesn't it get tiring?" i asked.
"i'm not sure what you're referring to"
"smelling like chanel no. 5 and pretending not to have bodily functions?"
"you'd say that."
"i'm not really sure what you're getting at, but i don't appreciate it."
"you're ridiculous." i laid back a little in the leather chair.
"why did you meet with me today, mr. brubeck?"
"to get a little taste of the high life, i suppose. i lied about everything on my resume. i load trucks for a moving company and i've never set foot in a college institution."
"i think this interview is over."
a couple days later, Laurenzo and i got a call for a big moving job at 322 gloucester, a nice condo near the water. we were moving two tons worth of mahogany armoirs down a steep flight of stairs for some pompous, balding asshole. when we were about done, lo and behold, it was colleen smith pulling up in her black Mercedes.
"looks like you've been working hard," she said.
that night, she and I laid on empty hardwood floors looking up at the eggshell ceiling thinking that we weren't really that different after all.