Melodramatic title, I know. And perhaps more than a little bit subjective. But true in this case. Here’s the story:
I was working on my Pegasus canvas today (amidst way too much commentary from coworkers) and was trying to open a gallon bottle of Elmer’s Glue. No dice. “Julie” tried and two other clerks tried as well. Still no dice. So I went upstairs in search of other worthy candidates and/or a pair of pliers or some other useful tool. Didn’t find the tool, but “Ralph” and “GC” were hanging out. So I pawned the problem off on them as is my way. Anyway, GC got it open.
And that was the end of the story for me. I wasn’t going to revisit the scene in a blog post or anything. At least, not until I thanked GC and reclaimed the bottle.
“This is something else you can put on your blog.”
Those are the worst words you (meaning me) can hear. And those are the words GC said as I was walking away. After doing a double-take, I went back to GC’s desk.
“How do you know about my blog?”
GC shrugged me off without actually shrugging. “People talk about it. Everyone discusses each other’s blogs. And web 2.0.”
“Oh-kay,” I said doubtfully before walking away.
Anyway, I’ve got a couple of options for the 3D part of my canvas. I liked one option. The entire rest of the library (almost literally) liked a different option. Ralph helped me reach this conclusion after explaining my plan to GC who shot it down and then relaying their exchange to me. Then, adding insult to injury, Ralph called GC and had him come down to the children’s room to “consult” further. The last straw was when my supervisor came, looked at the canvas and could only say, “Oh.”
I bolted. I admit it. I went out and bought the materials to make all of the things I am dubious about. The wing I think might fall off (I don’t care if it is Liquid Nails glue). The cotton balls for the clouds that are going to get dusty and weird. Got them all. Peer pressure to the nth level. Except everyone who pressured me was older (except for “Sam” who is younger . . . ).
Having regained my composure, I decided to make further inquiries about my newfound lack of anonymity. How long did he really know about it? Anyone’s guess. Personally, I suspect he learned about it around when I started writing about his never asking “how are you” and it driving me crazy and the time when I started commenting suspiciously that he was asking how I was. It conveniently all came out right after I posted suspicions that he was reading posts here.
My only satisfaction is this: He still has no idea what GC stands for. And yes, I am going to stubbornly cling to my nickname/aliases.