Girl code at its best. That de-escalates getting that call from a horror movie situation into, "Oh - this is the fingernail creeper they've told us about. Bye."
I never heard about a repeat performance from our caller. Now I'm curious if he graduated or what.
I simultaneously do and do not want to see the trolly problem diagram in that courtroom.
I feel like I've been in multiple shitty situations where I was saved by being dumb or weird and the would-be attacker being either confused or amused enough to let me be.
Not the most exciting, but I once answered a skeezy call at 2:00am. It was a holiday, so I was one of maybe 6 people in the dormitory. It was very much a horror story setup. The caller said something unpleasant and it was 2:00am so I didn't really get what he said. "I'm sorry, could you call back tomorrow? Be happy to talk about it then, but right now I'm super tired."
Probably wouldn't have even remembered it if the young woman across the hall hadn't gotten a call the same night. She told me about it the next day. He somehow managed to briefly convince her that he was her highschool boyfriend. They talked for a few minutes before she realized it wasn't him.
As for me? Dirty bastard never called me back.
(Probably necessary context: College, early nineties, there was a campus phone book that literally gave your name, dorm, room, and phone extension. Finding a woman alone during the holiday was as easy as looking at rooms with lights on and checking the book.)
I'm under a series of non-disclosure agreements that serve to protect Big Talc. I can disclose that step one is to dig it out of the ground. The rest is processing.
Yep, I am sick unto the death over talc and talc derivatives. It's all sunshine and lollipops for the first few years, but it gets old.
Anyway, these medical devices were sort of like spinal implants, or things that could mitigate damage from a bad alligator bite if one got ahold of a person's ankle. Bone replacements, mostly. The photos on the posters were pretty unpleasantly graphic, but they all basically looked like good solutions to very unfortunate problems.
Well said.
It sounds like she had a lot of fun in your home. I try to remember things like that when I'm feeling a loss like this.
Honestly, I like to avoid them. They sound fun at first, but then you realize that you're going to be in a room with strangers for 8 hours and at the last minute you realize, "would anyone really notice if I just skipped out?" And, "why do I always get invited to the talc and sulphates convention and not the candy convention?"
I do travel a lot for work, and frequently see conventioneers at hotels. The Excruciating Implantable Medical Device Convention (with posters) looked amazing. I honestly thought about crashing that one.
Compared to Billy Budd, I was all in on Bartleby. I felt a certain kinship, if you will.
All of our proposed work field trips sucked so hard, everyone revolted.
Idea one: There was a bizarre "corporate leadership conference" which was a bunch of weird conservative motivational speakers that were on tour across middle America. No one aside from the two asshats who proposed it wanted to go after learning the details.
Idea two: Our two department managers decided that a canoe trip would be a great way to bond as a group. It sounded fun until anyone put an ounce of thought into it. Since the managers didn't want to do any planning, we were all given vague tasks. Like, "lunch." And "portage at the roller dam." I was one of the two in charge of lunch. WTF? Do we figure out a place to stop mid-way and eat at a restaurant? Am I bringing a cooler of hotdogs? Does Steve bring a grill? Can there be beer? (NO)
I had a woman slap my hand away from a hot surface while on one of these tours. No songs, though. And I'm not much of a higher up, so probably not worth it.
"She touched the reactor's body, she did! Now her flesh is melted like....?"
I'd be salty about that too!