AN ICY RECEPTION

February 23, 2010
LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): You need to discuss recent changes with colleagues or family members, so start early and make sure everyone is willing to face up to what needs to be said. You can get almost anything done if you're firm.

Laura’s Log:
As a temp, I don’t expect to be welcomed to the fold with a box of chocolates and an invitation to join the gang at their favorite lunch haunt. I don’t even expect people to get my name right. Laurie, Lisa, Rapunzel,…close enough. But what happened to “hello”, “please”, “thank you” and “Canada rocks”?

The auto shop is owned by two Russian brothers and at least half the staff is Russian as well. They’d been cordial enough on my first day of work, but things iced over overnight.

I’d thoroughly enjoyed Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir’s graceful, captivating, golden ice dance last night and didn’t think twice about putting on my Canadian Olympic pin this morning. Sergi, one of the brothers, spotted it as he poured his first of forty cups of coffee. He stared, looking aghast. Since I’d completely forgotten the pin, I thought, first, he was ogling by breasts and, second, they had suddenly gone frighteningly asymmetrical. Maybe one had popped out of my blouse!

“How can you dare come off as a proud Canadian?” he roared. “Figure skating has become a travesty!”

He couldn’t be serious. I assumed he was playfully stirring up a patriotic rivalry, if a little heavy on the histrionics. “Weren’t they beautiful last night?” I gushed. “And such the fairy tale couple—Canada’s sweethearts.”

“Sweethearts, my arse. Russia was robbed! First Plushenko, now this! The judging is rigged!”

Rich. A Russian whining about suspect judging in figure skating. I should have kept my mouth shut. Of course, I didn’t. “Are you kidding me?! Virtue and Moir were the best on the ice. The Russians were clunky and lucky to get the bronze. It wasn’t even close.”

He seethed. I sensed I was going to be fired for the second time in a month. But then he turned away with the precision of a trained army marcher. I worked the rest of the day without a single acknowledgment from any of my Russian coworkers. Who knew that the beautiful sport of ice dance could restart The Cold War?

KEN’S JOURNAL (via BlackBerry):
THEY WERE FULL ICE CUBES, BUT HE CHOMPED ON THEM LIKE THEY WERE TINY SHARDS. SYMBOLIC. BASICALLY, I WAS THE ICE.

IT WLD BE FAIR TO SAY JERRY & I HAVE NEVER GOTTEN ALONG. I’VE ALWAYS THOUGHT MY BIG SIS CLD DO BETTER. NOW SHE’S GOT 4 KIDS SHE’S RAISING ON HER OWN. THIS WASN’T MEANT TO BE A CASUAL LUNCH. HE LED OFF W/ “YOU GOT NO BUSINESS TRYING TO BE TRAVIS’ DAD” & THAT LEFT THINGS WIDE OPEN.

“YOU’VE GOT EVERY BUSINESS BEING HIS DAD,” I REPLIED. “BUT YOU DON’T STEP UP. I’M NOT GOING TO LET SARA STRUGGLE THRU PARENTING ALONE.”

“WELL, I’VE GOT MY—”

“WHAT? YOUR JOB? THAT’S NOT AN EXCUSE TO BE AN ABSENT FATHER. NO SENSE BRINGING IN ALL THAT MONEY IF THE KIDS DON’T TURN OUT RIGHT.”

HE STOOD UP AND GRABBED HIS SANDWICH. “THINK I’D RATHER FINISH THIS IN THE CAR.”

“YEP. YOU CAN DO THAT W/FOOD. GET IT ‘TO GO’. BUT YOU CAN’T DO THAT W/KIDS.”

NO DOUBT SARA WILL BLAST ME FOR STIRRING THINGS UP W/JERRY, BUT MR. TO-GO WILL BE ON A PLANE TOMORROW, IF NOT TONITE, & I’LL BE THE GO-TO PERSON ONCE AGAIN.