The Guy That Walks Really Fast
I didn't even know his name until a couple weeks ago. Coworkers would mention a guy named Andy, to my blank look of confusion; I would ask what's the deal with the guy that walks really fast around the office, and was met with similar uncomprehending stares. But now that I know his name is Andy, I still feel better calling him The Guy That Walks Really Fast, since he's constantly plowing through the office, leaned forward, as if he's ascending a steep hill.
TGTWRF is also an avid hoops fan, and has announced several dozen times that he's running this year's NCAA office pool. Now, I didn't mind playing the Oscar pool because (1) I could stand to part with $5 and (2) I figured I had a good chance, even though I wound up in a three-way tie for fourth, meaning 10 people or so in my office did better than my score of 18 for 24. But, since I've written before about the permanence of art vs. the transient nature of athletic glory, coupled with the fact that I just don't care, I've decided not to participate in TGTWRF's pool. Not to mention that it costs $10, and I'd be better off shoving the ten-spot up my butt than filling out a bracket and pretending I know anything about players' stats. You want me to talk about how the styles of Wes Anderson and David Gordon Green can be seen in the work of Phil Morrison? Can do, and will gladly do. At length. But asking me to parse the Sweet 16 is a waste of everyone's time.
Plus, The Guy That Walks Really Fast is just creepy. I was standing at the soda machine, near the bathroom, when he pauses before entering to ask if I'll participate in the pool; since I'm from Texas, he expects to see Texas in the Final Four, he says/jokes/mumbles. I don't know how he knows I'm from Texas, since I don't recall ever telling him this, but I move on, asking him what the price is for the pool, knowing full well that it's $10 but hoping that he can ramble long enough for me to get a Dr Pepper and edge slowly away. TGTWRF then launches into how he decided to set the $10 entry fee: "It used to be $5, but this is my 20th year doing it, and I figure after 20 years, dammit, I can do it because it's not like it was 19 years ago when I was 14 I'm 33 now and I've been doing this for 20 years…"
… at which point blood starting running out of my ears. Thinking quickly, I threw my can of soda at TGTWRF's face. It connected with a solid thunk; he hit the carpet, blood pouring from his forehead. I ran all the way home.
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