Today at work is dedicated to placing book orders for the winter quarter. I've been calling publishers all over the country, and the process is usually boring - a form dialogue that has artificial inflections to make it sound like it's two people talking rather than two machines.
Then I called Blackwell, in Vermont. I told the man on the phone that my name was Jessica, that I was calling from the Northeastern University Bookstore, and that I would like to place an order for a book.
"You would, would you," he said.
"And you require my assistance to accomplish this nefarious deed."
I laughed. "Yes, I do."
"I just found that word in the dictionary, and now I'm using it all the time."
"It's a good word," I said, hoping I could place my order and hang up soon.
"Well, I've always been a sucker for a pretty voice, so I'll help you. But if we get caught, I'm squealin'."
I placed my order, and he went through the motions of explaining shipping options.
"So you're down in Massachusetts. Heck, I could drive that down there and be back in time for dinner!"
When I told Sarah about the odd man, she said she didn't realize Blackwell employees could drink on the job.