But wait - let us begin at the beginning, when everything began.
In the Beginning, there was Void, and...
Wait, perhaps that's a little too far back. I'll start with yesterday morning.
So after I'd posted yesterday's journal entry, the company who'd called while I was writing it - Metro IS - called back. Because they're a consulting firm, they submit resumes to companies they're trying to get contracts with, and because they do a lot of this, they have a standard format for their resumes. They were trying to re-write my resume to match theirs, and so they spent about forty-five minutes on the phone with me going over most of the projects I'd worked on at 3GI individually trying to ascertain what each project entailed, programmatically. And then they told me about the project for which they were going to submit my resume.
I get the feeling they're sortof desperate. But I'm still not crazy about the idea of having to drive to Norfolk every day, so they'd have to offer me rather a great deal of money to take the job.
Very desperate. UPS just dropped off a packet of information from them, sent overnight. Maybe that's how they normally do business, but it would've been much cheaper to send these brochures through the regular post office...
So anyway, I'd been chatting with K.T. on IM earlier, and we'd had a conversation that went something like this:
| Tisfan: Do you and Matt want to go out for a celebratory dinner if Kevin passes his exam? I'll pick Matt up so you don't have to drive separate cars back home. LizLBrooks: Yeah, that sounds like fun! LizLBrooks: ...except I just remembered Matt has a basketball game tonight. |
But it still sounded like fun, so I dashed off a quick note to Matt telling him about the invitation, and explaining that I thought I'd go without him, if he didn't mind too terribly. He didn't, so I enjoyed the prospect of having an evening out.
Between being kept on the phone with Metro for most of the morning and about half a dozen other phone calls (Is Thursday the Official Phone Call Day or something?) I barely got the laundry done in time to dash off to the Hicks'.
I picked Kevin up, and we managed to find the center where he was going to take his A+ certification exams without too much trouble. (Question #1: Can you find our office?) We arrived twenty minutes or so early, and so I spent a bit more than an hour waiting while Kevin took his test. After I'd been there about fifteen minutes, reading in the lobby, a nice man came out and offered to let me come in and wait in the "student lounge" - which was a couch situated across the hall from a small kitchen. I helped myself to some water from the kitchen, and a handful of Cheez-Its which were in a big bowl on the table, and read my book. Later, the same guy came by to apparently re-stock a supply of chips in the kitchen, and offered me some. I accepted a bag of Doritos and munched while continuing to read my book.
Not too long after that, Kevin came out looking sortof worried. I didn't put too much stock in this - the slant of Kevin's eyebrows or something keeps him looking slightly worried most of the time. I asked him how it had gone, and he got a big grin on his face, so I knew. He picked up the official copies of his scores, and we headed back to their apartment.
I'd been planning to drop Kevin off and go over to the nearby mall to do some shopping - spending the gift certificate my parents had given me for my birthday, and just generally wandering around, maybe picking up a couple of Midwinter presents. But Kevin was giddy with relief and excitement, and didn't want to sit at his apartment by himself with nothing to do, so he came along.
I warned him that he'd be bored - my first and longest stop was going to be a clothing store - but he just shrugged. I'd sortof expected him to do what Matt does when I shop for clothes - find another, more interesting store, and agree to meet me later, but he wandered around the Lane Bryant with me, looking slightly dubious. We joked about how he wasn't allowed to pick out his own clothes, and I made fun of a few things (but for the same reason he's not allowed to pick out his own clothes, he didn't really seem to get it when I was mocking tacky things) and I finally picked out a few things and paid for them.
We wandered around a bit more, and he mentioned that he hadn't eaten all day and was starting to feel the need, so we stopped at the food court and he had a sandwich while I had a little ice cream, and then we went back to the apartment. There was about an hour left until we expected K.T. home, so we watched a Babylon 5 episode, and she came in just before the end.
We sat around chatting for a bit, then headed out to dinner. We decided to go to Carmella's, which is a local chain of Italian restaurants - fairly pricey but very good. We were seated, and spent a little time looking over the menu. The manager (at least, I assume he was the manager, he kept wandering around the room asking how things were and helping out here and there) came over and told us that our waiter would be with us shortly, but in the meantime, would we like something to drink?
I asked for iced tea. K.T. told him she'd have a "diet whatever" which took him a few seconds to process and Kevin got a Pepsi. A bit later, the waiter came by with our drinks, took an appetizer order, and then tried to take our drink order again.
The appetizer came (cheese sticks, only in semi-circle shapes. They were quite good.) and the waiter took our meal orders. K.T. had gnocchi with alfredo sauce, Kevin had a veal dish that turned out to look fabulous, and because I'd been wanting pizza for a while anyway, I ordered a pizza with fresh tomato sauce and onions.
My pizza arrived a good five minutes before their food, but it says right on the menu that the timing for pizzas and strombolis and such might be off, so it didn't bother me too much. It looked very good, and I told the waiter that I would certainly need a box for my leftovers, because it was entirely too big for one person whose name isn't Braz. (I left off the bit about Braz - just said that I'd need a box.)
He didn't bring the box, but his next appearance at the table was to bring K.T. and Kevin's food, so that was all right. The manager stopped by to make sure we were enjoying our food, and I asked for a side of marinara or tomato sauce to dip my pizza crust in. This seemed to confuse him even more than K.T.'s "diet whatever" (he really didn't seem to be playing with a full deck all the time) but he eventually got it and went away, returning with a small plastic cup of marinara sauce. He apologized profusely for it being a plastic cup and not an actual dish, but it didn't bother me at all - I just wanted the sauce.
When the waiter stopped by again to refill my tea (dammit, I hate it when they refill it when the glass is still half-full; getting half a pack of Sweet-n-Low in the glass without scattering powder all over the table is a pain) I asked again for a box for my leftover pizza. He seemed to get it this time, and left, returning with a box.
I asked if I could see a dessert menu, and he told me that there wasn't a dessert menu, but that he could bring the tray out for me. I told him I'd wait until K.T. and Kevin were done, and he could show us all at once. A bit later, they were mostly full, and he brought out the dessert tray. We made our selections, and as he walked away, K.T. said, "And we'll want boxes for our leftovers." She said it fairly quietly, and the waiter didn't seem to hear her, so I said a bit louder, "Oh! And they want boxes, please." He turned around and nodded to indicate he'd heard me, and we went on chatting.
About five minutes later, he brought: a piece of pie on a plate with a doily for me, a boxed piece of cake for Kevin, and nothing at all for K.T.
We blinked at him. "I meant," I explained as gently as I could, "that they'd need boxes for their leftovers." This was a revelation for our waiter, who took their plates and went off to box them. "And her dessert!" I called after him. "And forks!" called Kevin, who was contemplating eating his cake with his fingers.
He finally brought back K.T.'s dessert, and two boxes with their leftovers. He tried to figure out which box had whose leftovers in it until we told him we'd figure it out. Then, without asking, he brought the check.
If my father had been there, he'd have ordered another piece of dessert, or some coffee, or something. My father hates to get the bill before he's said he's ready for it.
But he wasn't there, and so Kevin got out his credit card, and let me see the bill so I could figure out how much I owed him (Note to self - I still owe him $5) and the waiter whisked it away in perhaps the most efficient move he'd made all night.
I realized about then that there was no way I could finish my dessert. It was too rich. On the other hand, it was delicious, and sortof expensive, and with mild hysteria, I realized I was going to have to ask this waiter for yet another box. This time, he didn't bother looking confused, and just brought the box.
As the three of us left, I carried all the boxes, and it looked like a styrofoam Tower of Pisa: One pizza box on the bottom, then two entree-sized boxes, then two dessert-sized boxes (because Kevin hadn't finished his dessert, either). I could barely get into the car.
(Metro is so desperate it hurts. They just called again to make sure I'd gotten their package and to tell me I'd passed the little online technical test they'd asked me to take.)
Anyway, I stayed over at this Hicks' for a bit, talking, and eventually left when I started to get sleepy. I put my leftovers in the backseat where they wouldn't tip over, my purse in the passenger seat, and headed home. Almost immediately after getting onto the interstate, traffic slowed to a near standstill.
Shit. I'd forgotten about the road construction. Apparently tonight they had narrowed the interstate down to one lane (from three) in this direction. And I was in the Wrong Lane.
Inching along, looking for a good place to change lanes and singing along with the radio, I pulled my cell phone out of my purse. When the song ended ("The Load-Out/Stay" by Jackson Browne, one of the favorites I'm practically compelled to sing along with when I hear it) I turned on the phone and called Matt, to let him know I was delayed in traffic so he wouldn't worry.
Which is exactly why I bought the damn phone in the first place.
Not long after I'd hung up with him, I passed the construction, and then traffic went back to normal.
It was a good day.
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