I usually eat lunch around 2 in the afternoon, at my desk. I found that the phone stops ringing for a large part of the hour. This means that most people are back from their lunches. Mr. T-- F---- likes to give me a hard time. Nearly every day (but not quite so predictably as that) he looks at my food and asks, mock-disgustedly, "What is
that?" I answer that it's falafel or Spanish rice or peanut butter and jelly; whatever it happens to be. Today, however, he was at his desk when I returned to mine with my lunch.
"Hey, T--!"
"Yes?"
"Spanish rice."
"You have an extra fork? I'll be right over."
---T-- is known in the office as "The Bear:" he growls. This was told to me when he was gone for a while. "Good thing the Bear's not here..." I didn't realize that meant that he actually
growled. Walking past my desk the other day: "Raahr" and a disappearance down the hall as I sat, blinking.