I hadn’t seen the chauvinism coming because the first time I spoke to him (not even a full week ago), he promoted a book he’s publishing which is centered around the groundbreaking theory that “a woman’s power isn’t below the waist, it’s above the waist.” (At the “above the waist” bit, he aggressively pointed to his head with an index finger.) Readers will evidently need an actual key to unlock the page-by-page magic.
“Let me know when you have free time, so we can sit down and kick it,” were his final words to me….until we met again in our elevator on Saturday afternoon.
“I have something for you,” he said.
“Oh yeah?” I asked, while scrolling down and re-reading my text log from the night before, which included an alert about my Yahoo e-mail having been hacked. Everyone I’ve ever communicated with via that e-mail account has received spam in my name.
“Uhhhh-huhhh,” he said, just tickled with himself.
“What, that book of yours?”
“Nope. Something else. A surprise.”
He said he’d leave it (the poem) outside my door that night. Too many people in this city know exactly where I live.
My door-buzzer rang later that afternoon when I was eating noodles at my desk, rallying to go back out. He handed me a reusable plastic drawstring sack that contained the poem (written on a ripped-out sheet of spiral-bound notebook paper), a necklace, a T-shirt, and a bag of Hershey’s Kisses.
“This is your Christmas present,” he said, with a sternness more commonly seen in distant uncles by marriage.
How’s that for coming through with the type of customized care package I requested last week? Valuable lesson learned: If You Blog It, It Will Come.
Here’s the next request I’m putting out there: I wouldn’t mind getting some poetry from a few more folks, and cannot wait to review the stanzas that stream in soon after this post goes live.