Friday, May 27, 2005

Call Me Jordan

Oh man, I just couldn't leave this one down --

Considering it happened fairly early this morning, it is possible that this particular person wasn't in their right-of-mind. None the less...

Side-Note: I'm back! So please stop harrassing me to post ;-)

* * *

So today I was fixing an elderly woman's computer, and this guy I work with, Chris, came with me.

"Hello, ma'am, we're here to fix your computer,” I say plainly, walking around to the other side of this woman's desk. I didn't know her name, and half of the time I don't ever care to find out.

"Oh I'm so glad you guys came,” She said, clasping her hands together as if she was rewarded a fine treat.

She gets up and promptly goes away, leaving us to figure out what was wrong and how to fix it.

"'Twas nothing, ma'am,” Chris says under his breath, tilting his head at her retreating back. Snickering, I sit down in the secretary’s former seat, logging into her computer. About a second later I figure out it is a printer problem.

The secretary comes back within 5 minutes, a steaming cup of coffee in hand.

"Oh, you are still here?" She says sweetly, as I'm hacking away on her keyboard. Chris has now moved over to the printer, trying to figure out if the connection is bad or if the cord somehow fell out.

"Yup,” I say curtly. I see out of the corner of my eye that she is watching me intently, a curious expression on her face. Chris, being satisfied that all of the cords are correctly connected, turns back around and contents himself by watching me type as well.

"You remind me of someone..." The secretary says slowly, taking off her glasses and cleaning them with her shirt. I look at her through the reflection of the computer screen. I notice that she is still staring at me as if trying to remember something important.

"Jordan." She says suddenly, and at that exact moment I slam my hands on her desk and turn around.

"Ma'am, do you have a problem with staring?" I say curtly, narrowing my eyes at her. I see Chris over her shoulder, trying hard not to laugh.

"Do you know a Jordan?" She questions, clearly ignoring my remark.

There was only one Jordan I could think of, but surely she didn’t mean Michael Jordan...

"Only one,” I say, trying to size her up, "Michael Jordan."

"That's the one!" She squeals, a gleam in her eye.

"What?!" Chris exclaims, looking from her to me. Slowly, I see a dawning of comprehension on his face. "Surely you don't mean that Jillian reminds you of Michael...?"

"Yes," The secretary cuts in, her tone sounding final, "Only younger..." The secretary trails off, and I look to Chris, who is staring at me as if seeing me in a new light.

I don't know whether to be flattered or mortally offended.

"You mean Michael Jordan, right?" I say slowly, looking at the secretary.

"Of course."

"The basketball player?" I say a bit slower and more loudly, making sure I wasn't hallucinating.

"Who else?"

"But...I'm a girl!!" I blurt out stupidly, a vivid poster that my brother had on his wall for years of Michael Jordan flashes into my mind.

"Maybe a white Michael Jordan, perhaps..." Chris says with mock thoughtfullness, unable to contain himself any longer. He's going to run with this one, I can see it already.

"Shut up you,” I snap at Chris, who is now practically rolling on the floor from laughing so hard.

"Well, I did mean a younger one!" The secretary says indignantly, striding away with a huff.

About 5 minutes later, Chris and I are walking back to work, having successfully rewired her printer into the computer.

"Michael...Jordan?" I say slowly, shaking my head and looking to Chris. He turns his head towards me, and starts laughing hysterically again.

"Man that was the weirdest thing I think anyone has ever told me!" I say, smiling and watching as Chris' belly-rolling laughter subsides. "I can't seriously even REMOTELY look like Michael Jordan."

"Yeah, only younger..." He says slowly, imitating the glazed look of the secretary.

I push him playfully.

"Well, if you get to be Michael Jordan,” Chris says seriously as I watch his large, Caucasian frame bobbing up and down as we walk, "Then can I be Will Smith?"