jayfurr: (Default)

My life is full of mysteries. Some more interesting than others.


When I was in graduate school in 1988, a lowly candidate for the Master of Public Administration degree at Virginia Tech, I dutifully tried to do adult things like subscribing to the local newspaper. That said, I didn’t actually sit down and read the paper most days — I’d sleep until I had to rush out for class and then I’d come back much later in the day and brainlessly eat something and go to bed. Unread newspapers piled up in a big stack on my sofa.


One day I decided to throw them out. I picked up half the stack and headed for my recycling bin, then stopped and did a classic Hollywood doubletake. Fanned carefully out across the topmost paper in the remaining heap were five crisp new $20 bills. If I’d split the stack at any other point I’d have missed them.



To this day I don’t know how they got there. My mother had a key to my apartment in case I ever misplaced my own copy, but I can’t imagine that she’d have decided that the best way to slip me some extra cash was to conceal it in a stack of unread newspapers.


The cash was clearly on top of one issue and below another, not tucked into a particular issue. And I can’t imagine how I’d have dropped a whole newspaper onto the stack if there were five $20 bills fanned out on top of the stack at the time. The only explanation that makes sense is that someone put the money there, but again, why would someone choose that method of delivery? It’d have been so easy to overlook the money altogether. (I did finally ask my mother; she denied all knowledge and seemed as genuinely confused as I felt.)


Less Twilight-Zone-esque, but still perplexing, is the matter of my going-away gift that I received when my temporary position at Glaxo Pharmaceuticals ended in 1994. I’d been doing temp work at Glaxo for a while after giving up on my PhD program and moving to Durham, NC. Our department supported clinical trials on ondansetron, an anti-emetic used to prevent opioid-induced nausea, chemotherapy-induced nausea, and post-operative nausea and vomiting. When the powers that be decided there was no need to do any further clinical trials to support additional indications for the drug, I was surplus to needs.


So: on my last day in the department before moving on to another temporary position at Duke University, everyone wished me well and then one of the Pharm.D’s, Melissa, told me she had my farewell gift in her car. I thought that was a little odd — why hadn’t she brought it in? Mind you, I hadn’t been expecting a farewell gift at all; temps aren’t normally noted nor long remembered. But at the end of the day, as I was leaving the building for the last time, Melissa walked me out to the parking garage and retrieved my gift from her car.


It was a 24-pack (a “suitcase”) of Budweiser beer.


budweiserTo say I was a bit nonplussed would just about sum it all up. First, why a farewell gift at all for a lowly temp, and second, why Budweiser? I couldn’t recall ever even discussing alcohol and drinking with my former co-workers and I certainly hadn’t indicated a preference for the King of Beers.


I decided not to ask, though — best not to look a gift horse in the mouth, after all — and simply thanked Melissa and went off, suitcase of beer in hand, to my car. What made Melissa think “Oh, right, Jay’s position runs out tomorrow. Better stop off at the store to get him some Bud”? I’ve even thought about writing her to ask — what’s the Internet for, if not for cyberlocating people who you used to know decades ago and who’ve long since forgotten you?


But no. I think it’s best if I leave this mystery unsolved.


 


Telepathy

Jan. 18th, 2016 01:56 am
jayfurr: (Default)

Carole and I went for an absolutely purposeless drive this afternoon. It wasn’t an especially pretty afternoon: overcast and gray, with scattered patches of snow and mud. But it was better than sitting around the house staring at the wallpaper, you know?


We drove down south to Middlebury, had hot drinks at “Carol’s Hungry Mind Cafe“, then walked around a bit in the cold and looked at ice floating down Otter Creek. When that got old, we decided to head back north and in the general direction of home. On the way, I suggested that Carole check in with her parents to see how they were doing. (What did we do before cell phones when we had idle miles to travel and not much else to do?)


During the ensuing conversation, ancestry.com came up; Carole and her parents have been working on Carole’s family tree fairly steadily since Christmas. I could only hear one side of the discussion, but apparently they were chatting about strategies for tracing certain branches of the family. At one point, Carole said “Yeah, Jacksonville is rich ground for finding Earles and Cockes.”


During the pause that followed, as her parents replied, I found myself muttering “… just a nihilist”.


And Carole grinned, slapped me on the knee, and said “That’s exactly what I was thinking.”


(For five lemur points: explain the connection.)


Profile

jayfurr: (Default)
Jay Furr's Journal

May 2017

S M T W T F S
  123456
78910111213
14151617181920
21222324252627
28293031   

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Jun. 27th, 2017 07:12 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios