In Which I Get to Be VickiVickiVicki

Queen Mediocretia wrote once about her husband, Gary, aka El Magnifico, coming home and constantly rattling on about some woman he worked with. She was probably thin and pretty and blonde and had the IQ of a flea. Her name was Vicki and Queen Med. translated that into WomanSpeak, VickiVickiVicki.

Xman, who bears absolutely no other resemblance to G, El M, came home from work constantly infatuated with his coworkers. First it was Barb, who was not just a fabulous programmer but also a tennis champion. Then it was Annika, who was a fabulous programming manager and could beat the crap out of all the men at handball at lunch, and she was Swedish, blonde, and six feet tall.

It went on like this for twenty years. Everyone was fabulous but me. I got accustomed to my lack of fabulosity.

Then I started working at the same company as Xman, although in a different group. There I met Joe, long, tall Joe, with his hippie hair and slow smile.

He was married. He had two daughters. He had a history with the Peace Corps, which made him all the more romantic and mysterious to me.

I kept my distance, but I loved talking to him. And I think he liked talking to me, too. Every day at lunch, we'd go for a mile walk together. One day, he said to me, "So I was talking to Carla last night and telling her what you said about that book and she said, oh, if Becs thinks it's all right, then it must be. She sounded kind of sarcastic about it. I don't know why."

Triumph! Surge of joy! I am BarbAnnikaVickiVickiVicki! For one brief and shining moment.

My elation didn't last for long. One day I was in his cubicle and he said, "Oh - Carla and I were about twenty minutes late for that movie -"

Late? Late for a movie? Late? "You waited until the next show, right?"

"Nah. I don't care when I go in to a movie."

Devastated, I said nothing. I looked at him. He looked at me.

Gently, he said, "It would never work."

I nodded. "You're right. It wouldn't."