Sharon 6

Coffee break at the staff room in the Public Library. Jennifer is relating, in two voices, her recent encounter with an out-of-town businessman. Here's part.
"But that is ridiculous. How on earth can a city your size have no public internet terminals in the library?"
"That would be because we lack space and budget."
"You lag the pack, seriously behind the rest of Canada." (and so forth)
As she winds down, I remark, "that's what voters get for electing one of those former pro athletes. Brain dead from all the hits, does little but sign whatever the big developers stick in front of his nose."
Jennifer pulls a face, "oh, you're only against sports because you hate men. No surprise there, seeing the luck you get."
I had meant it as half joke, half sad but true political comment. By now, no one else would believe that. Thankfully we're outa time.

Naomi has the intense look you'd expect on a USAF fighter pilot scrambling aloft in West Germany during Cold War days.
I look over the forest of paper. Hoping the Schadenfreude doesn't show up in my voice, I say quietly, "this is how much you owe," turn the calculator so she can see.
She goes ballistic, "I owe those g***** ***-****s $1,085.12!?!? Migod that's like ten times what I have in my bank account. I am in sooo deep s***!"
Again, hoping my tone sounds neutral, "they do negotiate payment arrangements. Best strategy is phone them before they phone you. Four to six months is easy to arrange. Beyond that, they get huffy."
"You g***** well are enjoying this! You are one first class sadist! You act like you're someone's friend, but always love seeing crap like this!"
(Actually only with her, not with anyone else.) I reply coolly, "last year you get my help. Next time, go to the volunteer program."
Ah ha, chalk up one point for the now more assertive me.
With Megan and Cindi it goes smoother. Both are relieved to discover they'll get small refunds, had feared they'd owe. They cheerfully take me to Starbucks to thank me.
There we run into a girl they know. By the time we all part, my attitude has changed a bit. That is ah well ah I'm not really so 100% certain that I'm 100% straight anymore. Say open-minded, curious.
I grin over the mountain of paper at my brother, "Murray, you owe $235.08."
He huffs and puffs, "what an outrageous country! Maybe it's time I made Aliyah."
"Grow up Murray, read even one iota on it. Their income taxes are far worse than ours. And how many pounds you gonna hafta sweat off in basic training before that armor fits?"
He pats his stomach, "ye-ah, guess I play too many computer games and eat too much pizza. Oh what the hay, two hundred is a bargain."
We both laugh.
Given he shares this three bedroom apartment with two other gamers, I imagine he's into serious excess. His eyes would be my first clue.
And that's to say nothing of the sixty or so empty pizza boxes teetering in the corner of the kitchen.
Oy, when do they ever clean? No wonder no one finds husbands anymore, all are staring at porn or games.
Just as I'm ready to leave, Nathan comes out of his room for a coffee refill. He asks Murray, "so, how'd it go?"
Murray shrugs, "I owe the b******s money, but no big deal. Nothing I can't take as a cash advance on my credit card to cover."
Nathan turns to me, over earnest tone, "I must admit, your eyes look well preserved."
"And why would they not?"
"Murray's told me what you really do at the library, Chief Censor on all those books."
Murray's look stops me from laughing. Ok, I'll play along, "oh yes, keeps me quite busy."
"First time I've ever heard em actually admit it. Sure glad I don't go there," with that, he rushes back to his game.
I don't laugh til the elevator door closes on me.