Our cubies are arranged like an egg carton. I have the lower right corner. Across from me is Pat, the blond, high-heeled great-granny. Next to her is Beth, approx 20-something. Next to her is MacKenzie, also 20-something, a JBC graduate and a newly-wed. Beth and MacKenzie are young, witty, lots of fun, and attached like grade school girlfriends. No one knows who is the shadow.
When one’s job description is one word — type, you have a lot of room to listen to whatever you can pipe in through ear buds and as much time to think up stuff, stuff like random What-If Silly Surveys. Wednesday morning, Beth popped up, followed closely by MacKenzie and the What-If Silly Survey question was “If you had to lose an arm or a leg, and it’s not an option to say ‘neither’, if you HAD to choose between losing an arm or a leg, what would you choose?” You have to realize there are at least 2, and in Pat’s case, 3 generations between us and them.
Pat: leg Me: leg Beth: Reeally? I think I could do without my left arm but I have to walk. Mac: You could always get a fake leg, but a fake arm has dexterity issues. Me: (can’t anyone say “problem” anymore?) Pat: There’s crutches. Me: See, Pat and I are so close to wheelchairs, it doesn’t make that much difference anymore. Pat: When I go I want it to be fast, not one piece at a time. (Mac buries her head and groans) Me: Those scooter chairs are cool and if I lost a leg I might qualify for a free one. Mac: That’s a win/win.
Y’know, sometimes you just have to deal with the cards life deals. No one can say we aren’t problem solvers.