"Deckard! DEEECCKARD!"
Bee stood outside of her neighbor's apartment, holding a spinach casserole. Her way of apologizing for, to put it bluntly, the umbrella striking him in the groin. What a stupid move that was, she lamented, is that how you handle these things? When a cute neighbor arrives with a casserole and wants to help you out, you let loose an attack on his crotch.
Yeesh. No wonder she had troubles with dating.
Bee yelled at the door once more, determined to get Deckard to forgive her.
"YO! Yo, it's Bee! I made you a casserole! It's got like, fancy spices and spinach and stuff and I spent like so many hours on it and I really want you to try it!"
She heard a few thuds, then a male groaning. Bee went scarlet. Had she interrupted him? What if he was doing something important? God, what if she was throwing off his entire schedule?
"I CAN'T DO ANYTHING RIGHT!"
She tried to clasp her hands over her mouth, but she had to hold the casserole - oh, crap, she didn't meant to say that out loud. Deckard was going to think she was an even bigger weirdo than before. His footsteps were getting louder, no no no, and - he's turning the doorknob! If she was a turtle, she would've hid in her shell and refused to ever come back out.
Deckard opened the door, and walked out, yawning. "I thought I heard someone calling. You know, it's like 6:30 AM."
Bee almost sighed in relief. That meant he probably hadn't heard her screaming at herself. "Yeah, I know, I slept in pretty late. So, I made you a spinach casserole, to apologize for the pain I've put your crotch through."
The twenty-something year old boy smiled. "Don't worry, there was no lasting damage. I love spinach." Then he frowned. "So, did you find any work? If you didn't, I can probably hook you up with a job up at this food processing place my friend works at, I could get him to recommend you."
Bee set the casserole down on the floor. "No problemo, I've already taken care of it."
"That's great, Bee. So, what is it?"
"What?"
"Your job, what do you do?"
She hesitated. If she told him that she'd got a job at a celestial temp agency, no, that her cat had got her a job, he'd think she was crazy. Not that she wasn't, but still. What to do, what to do...
Oh no, she'd gone to long without saying anything. He was starting to look at her funny, say something quick!
"Well, this cat that might be a dog fell out of the sky yesterday, and then it took me to a homicidal temp agent, then I babysat this fish who turned out to be some sort of monster, then I killed it by ripping it's tongue in half with my teeth... then I got paid, like, hundreds of bucks."
This time she actually face palmed. She was prepared to run away and hide in her room, but then Deckard started laughing.
"That's a pretty creative story to come up with on the spur of the moment. But no really, what are you doing?"
"Y-Yard work. Like, raking leaves and mowing and stuff. It pays the bills."
Yes! A social catastrophe has been averted.