Good Luck, Dasha

Tuesday night

Dasha, the photographer in our department, was leaving, so she threw a big party at the townhouse that she shared with several other employees. The next morning, I was lying on the floor under a table. I hadn't been drinking, but had decided to leave some words of encouragement along her wall, just above the baseboard. These words would be left with a permanent Sharpie marker. I began to write, "Don't sell yourself short, or your work -- you can do things that a lot of other people can't do." Unfortunately, I ran out of room, and tried to continue my sentence on the carpet. I made a few mistakes, and was making some blobs on the rug with White Out when one of our fellow workers, Erik B., walked in, and opened a closet door. He didn't see me; he was looking for a tie to wear to work that morning. As soon as he left, another coworker, Darryl B., came in. He's a very tall guy. He didn't see me either. Unfortunately, he tripped over my feet and cursed.

*****

Today really is Dasha's last day here. She just walked through to make her final rounds, and I said, "Hey -- I had a dream about you last night!" She stepped back and said, "Well, that's a pretty creepy way to say goodbye!" She smiled, but she kinda meant it, too. I went on to describe the party, and she said, "Man, that's a detailed dream!" If she only knew about the really detailed ones. Anyway, mental note made: maybe it's not so cool to mention the dreams to the coworkers after all. Incidentally, the part about the townhouse is made up. I don't have any idea if she has a townhouse, roomates, etc.

I hate graffiti, but I would be remiss if I didn't own up to my penchant for signing the interior spaces of some of my former workplaces when I was about to quit. I used to work at a record store called Penguin Feather, in a building which at one time contained a bank. The manager's office was in the back room with the big safe. Just before I left, I stood on top of the desk and drew a very detailed logo for Bruce Springsteen's album "The River" at the top of one wall, and on part of the ceiling. Later, when I was leaving Crown Books, I inscribed part of lyrics of Springsteen's song "Ramrod" along the top of their back room wall, mainly to piss off my then-manager, Joe S.: "Say you'll be mine, little girl, I'll put my foot to the floor / Give me the word, now, Sugar, we'll go ramroddin' forever more..." Always liked that one.