- A Welcome Back -
by Leoni
I found a parking space as close to the place as you could get without driving inside, and I checked, there were no 'No Parking' signs anywhere. Marvelling, I locked the car and stepped over to the familiar door.
The neon sign flickered next to the door as usual; it still had that peculiar little falter in its cycle, the same as always. Through the door I could hear the sound of many voices, buffered by the caress of quality blues.
I entered, and stood for a moment just inside, letting the mood of the place settle over me. Then Joe noticed me and motioned with a wide grin that I should come in.
"You're back!" he exclaimed. "Come here and give the old man a hug!"
Said hug left me breathless, and Joe immediately started telling anyone who'd listen how much he'd missed me.
"Aw, Joe," I muttered. "Don't embarrass your customers."
"Customer?" he grumbled. "You're no customer, you're a friend. Besides," he remembered. "Your bar tab is only slightly less than Adam's."
"And I promise to pay you," I avowed. "As soon as I get a job."
He rolled his eyes. "Didn't you just get one?"
"It's a long story," I told him. "Where's Adam? I'd rather tell it once to you both."
Joe pointed deeper into the bar. "In the back," he said. "I'll send some beer over."
I smiled a thanks and started making my way through the crowd.
"Hey," Joe called after me. "Don't let him tell you otherwise; he's missed you too."
I grinned and finally reached the table where the Really Old Guy was contemplating the remains of a beer, to all appearances worried solely if the last bits of foam would make it down the bottleneck and into his mouth. Still smiling I sat down next to him.
"Hey you," I said, wondering what reception I could expect.
I'd left rather precipitously two months before, without so much as an explanation to the Old Guy, and my intention to keep in touch had come to naught. So I was fully prepared for some reproachful looks or even a 5000-year sulk.
He settled those hazel eyes on me like I was a stranger, and my heart sank. Then a slow smile spread over his face.
"Hey yourself," he said softly.
"It's so good to see you," I said, relaxing.
He studied me for a while. "You've lost weight," he said, a little accusingly. "Have you been on a two-month forced diet camp?"
"No, no," I laughed. "Nothing like that..."
Just then the waitress delivered two bottles of beer. The staff at Joe's knows by long association not to bother with glasses when it comes to Adam or myself. Adam greeted his like a long-lost friend but failed to let himself be distracted.
"So what was it?" he asked. "All I know is that you waved 'bye-bye' at me two months ago, and I haven't seen or heard of you since." He swallowed some beer. "And life's been pretty boring without you, although I'd never have said so before."
"Well, you were busy when I left, and I did intend to e-mail you, I really did..."
"No excuses," he waved an admonitory finger at me.
"Oh, all right," I sighed. "I'm sorry, ok?" I smiled my best smile at him. "Please say you're not angry at me?"
"I'll withhold judgement until after you've told me where you've been!" he said, exasperated.
I held my hands up in mock surrender. "Ok, ok," I swallowed some beer before starting. "I was recruited by a large international IT company."
"Okay," Adam said. "Congratulations."
"Thanks," I said. "That's not the whole story."
"I gathered as much," the Old Guy told me. "So what is the reason for the silent treatment?"
"This is the bit I should tell you and Joe both," I stalled. "Won't you see if you can get him over here?"
Adam gave me a wicked grin. "Sure. JOE!!"
Every head in the bar turned. I sank deeper into my chair and pretended that I was window-shopping somewhere else. The shout had the desired effect, because Joe came over, grinning, and all the interrupted conversations resumed.
Adam pushed a chair towards Joe, who sat down. "You called?"
"Our friend here was about to tell me the story of her life," Adam informed him. "But she refused to start without you here. So now you're here, and I'm waiting."
Sighing, I resumed my tale. "The first two weeks were training, team building and altogether too much fun."
"Is that possible?" Joe asked.
"What?"
"Having too much fun."
"You guys know me," I told them. "My favourite way of passing time is to be at home, or chatting with you. All that fun was very exhausting for me."
Joe and Adam both nodded. They do know me, after all.
"So after the training I was sure I'd be a consultant, doing process mapping or business analysis."
"That's not what you studied for," Adam stated.
"I know that," I said. "But I really liked that part of the training and thought it would be a great thing to get to do for a while, at least."
"I get the feeling it didn't work out that way," Joe guessed.
"Nope. I ended up as a developer working on the 'bug-fix' stage of a large software project."
"That's what you studied for," Adam said, happily.
"Well, yes," I agreed. "But I've never wanted to develop like this. I like writing my own code, where I know how everything works and fits together. And I try to write efficient code."
"I'll just pretend I know what you're talking about," Joe said.
"It's so simple," Adam smirked. "She used to teach programming, so she's used to writing her own code." He considered. "Let me guess, you ended up in a bunch of spaghetti."
"What?" Joe exploded.
"Spaghetti code," Adam explained patiently. "Is when you get thousands of lines of code that are so confusing, that trying to follow the program is like trying to follow one string in a large plate of spaghetti."
"Good guess," I said. "To start with I couldn't get anything done except by poring through code for hours. It was very discouraging."
"I can imagine," Adam said, endearing himself to me forever.
"Add to that the tiny fact of having to be at work at 4am every morning..."
"4am!" Adam was appalled. He's never been a morning person. "Why?"
"A small matter of working on a project over different time zones," I explained. "To keep from losing a day every day, we had to work from 4am to 4pm."
"Twelve hours," Joe muttered.
"Sure, except that I seldom got away at 4pm... some nights I only left at 10pm."
"Okay," Adam said. "I hope they paid you enough for working 16-hour days."
"If they did, I might have felt better," I said sourly. "As it was, I even had to pay to go to work over the weekends, with the toll roads and the gas."
"This is ridiculous!" Joe exclaimed.
"My thinking exactly," I said. "Which is why I quit last Friday."
"Good for you!" Adam crowed. "That'll show them!"
"It's not that I want to show them," I said. "I just realised that I want more from my life than the rat race." I pointed at my audience. "I missed you guys, I didn't have time to do anything creative, I never got to spend time with my family..."
"I'm proud of you," Joe said. "You've got your priorities straight."
"Me too," Adam said. "Life is too short to waste it on stuff you hate."
"You're a fine one to talk," I muttered, but their support of my decision made me feel a lot better.
"And now?" Joe asked gently. I could see him working out how much longer my bar tab would remain unpaid.
"I've been talking to the people at the university," I said. They groaned. "What? It shouldn't surprise anyone if I go back to studying."
"I'm not surprised," Adam agreed. "You really should have known, you've been there long enough."
"Yeah, so anyway, I'll start on my Masters degree, and hopefully I'll get to do some teaching again."
"And hopefully we'll see you more often, too," Adam suggested, and Joe nodded.
"I guarantee it," I promised. "There are still too many adventures for us to share."
"And you still owe me," Joe started.
"I know, I know," I laughed. "Adam, could you lend me some money to pay Joe?"
"No, no, no," Adam said. "I've a better idea. I'll pay your bar tab when I pay mine."
Joe snorted. "That means never, doesn't it?"
"If you say so, Joe, I accept," Adam said gravely, while I dissolved into laughter.
Joe shook his head, defeated. "I'm never getting paid..."
"But Joe," I protested. "At least I'll keep thinking up adventures for you."
"In which Adam is always the hero," Joe grumbled.
"You know, that's right," Adam smirked.
"That is true," I mused. "But it isn't right. I'll write one where you are the hero, just for you, Joe!"
"That's more like it," Joe smiled. "Meanwhile, let's celebrate your escape from the rat race."
"Yes, let's," Adam and I agreed, raising our bottles in a toast.
Joe's bar didn't close till very, very late that night, but it was worth it, at least for those with unpaid bar tabs.
- fin -
(C) Leoni Venter February 2003
Disclaimer: Adam and Joe and his bar belong to Rysher: Panzer/Davis. I was just visiting them, so there!
by Leoni
I found a parking space as close to the place as you could get without driving inside, and I checked, there were no 'No Parking' signs anywhere. Marvelling, I locked the car and stepped over to the familiar door.
The neon sign flickered next to the door as usual; it still had that peculiar little falter in its cycle, the same as always. Through the door I could hear the sound of many voices, buffered by the caress of quality blues.
I entered, and stood for a moment just inside, letting the mood of the place settle over me. Then Joe noticed me and motioned with a wide grin that I should come in.
"You're back!" he exclaimed. "Come here and give the old man a hug!"
Said hug left me breathless, and Joe immediately started telling anyone who'd listen how much he'd missed me.
"Aw, Joe," I muttered. "Don't embarrass your customers."
"Customer?" he grumbled. "You're no customer, you're a friend. Besides," he remembered. "Your bar tab is only slightly less than Adam's."
"And I promise to pay you," I avowed. "As soon as I get a job."
He rolled his eyes. "Didn't you just get one?"
"It's a long story," I told him. "Where's Adam? I'd rather tell it once to you both."
Joe pointed deeper into the bar. "In the back," he said. "I'll send some beer over."
I smiled a thanks and started making my way through the crowd.
"Hey," Joe called after me. "Don't let him tell you otherwise; he's missed you too."
I grinned and finally reached the table where the Really Old Guy was contemplating the remains of a beer, to all appearances worried solely if the last bits of foam would make it down the bottleneck and into his mouth. Still smiling I sat down next to him.
"Hey you," I said, wondering what reception I could expect.
I'd left rather precipitously two months before, without so much as an explanation to the Old Guy, and my intention to keep in touch had come to naught. So I was fully prepared for some reproachful looks or even a 5000-year sulk.
He settled those hazel eyes on me like I was a stranger, and my heart sank. Then a slow smile spread over his face.
"Hey yourself," he said softly.
"It's so good to see you," I said, relaxing.
He studied me for a while. "You've lost weight," he said, a little accusingly. "Have you been on a two-month forced diet camp?"
"No, no," I laughed. "Nothing like that..."
Just then the waitress delivered two bottles of beer. The staff at Joe's knows by long association not to bother with glasses when it comes to Adam or myself. Adam greeted his like a long-lost friend but failed to let himself be distracted.
"So what was it?" he asked. "All I know is that you waved 'bye-bye' at me two months ago, and I haven't seen or heard of you since." He swallowed some beer. "And life's been pretty boring without you, although I'd never have said so before."
"Well, you were busy when I left, and I did intend to e-mail you, I really did..."
"No excuses," he waved an admonitory finger at me.
"Oh, all right," I sighed. "I'm sorry, ok?" I smiled my best smile at him. "Please say you're not angry at me?"
"I'll withhold judgement until after you've told me where you've been!" he said, exasperated.
I held my hands up in mock surrender. "Ok, ok," I swallowed some beer before starting. "I was recruited by a large international IT company."
"Okay," Adam said. "Congratulations."
"Thanks," I said. "That's not the whole story."
"I gathered as much," the Old Guy told me. "So what is the reason for the silent treatment?"
"This is the bit I should tell you and Joe both," I stalled. "Won't you see if you can get him over here?"
Adam gave me a wicked grin. "Sure. JOE!!"
Every head in the bar turned. I sank deeper into my chair and pretended that I was window-shopping somewhere else. The shout had the desired effect, because Joe came over, grinning, and all the interrupted conversations resumed.
Adam pushed a chair towards Joe, who sat down. "You called?"
"Our friend here was about to tell me the story of her life," Adam informed him. "But she refused to start without you here. So now you're here, and I'm waiting."
Sighing, I resumed my tale. "The first two weeks were training, team building and altogether too much fun."
"Is that possible?" Joe asked.
"What?"
"Having too much fun."
"You guys know me," I told them. "My favourite way of passing time is to be at home, or chatting with you. All that fun was very exhausting for me."
Joe and Adam both nodded. They do know me, after all.
"So after the training I was sure I'd be a consultant, doing process mapping or business analysis."
"That's not what you studied for," Adam stated.
"I know that," I said. "But I really liked that part of the training and thought it would be a great thing to get to do for a while, at least."
"I get the feeling it didn't work out that way," Joe guessed.
"Nope. I ended up as a developer working on the 'bug-fix' stage of a large software project."
"That's what you studied for," Adam said, happily.
"Well, yes," I agreed. "But I've never wanted to develop like this. I like writing my own code, where I know how everything works and fits together. And I try to write efficient code."
"I'll just pretend I know what you're talking about," Joe said.
"It's so simple," Adam smirked. "She used to teach programming, so she's used to writing her own code." He considered. "Let me guess, you ended up in a bunch of spaghetti."
"What?" Joe exploded.
"Spaghetti code," Adam explained patiently. "Is when you get thousands of lines of code that are so confusing, that trying to follow the program is like trying to follow one string in a large plate of spaghetti."
"Good guess," I said. "To start with I couldn't get anything done except by poring through code for hours. It was very discouraging."
"I can imagine," Adam said, endearing himself to me forever.
"Add to that the tiny fact of having to be at work at 4am every morning..."
"4am!" Adam was appalled. He's never been a morning person. "Why?"
"A small matter of working on a project over different time zones," I explained. "To keep from losing a day every day, we had to work from 4am to 4pm."
"Twelve hours," Joe muttered.
"Sure, except that I seldom got away at 4pm... some nights I only left at 10pm."
"Okay," Adam said. "I hope they paid you enough for working 16-hour days."
"If they did, I might have felt better," I said sourly. "As it was, I even had to pay to go to work over the weekends, with the toll roads and the gas."
"This is ridiculous!" Joe exclaimed.
"My thinking exactly," I said. "Which is why I quit last Friday."
"Good for you!" Adam crowed. "That'll show them!"
"It's not that I want to show them," I said. "I just realised that I want more from my life than the rat race." I pointed at my audience. "I missed you guys, I didn't have time to do anything creative, I never got to spend time with my family..."
"I'm proud of you," Joe said. "You've got your priorities straight."
"Me too," Adam said. "Life is too short to waste it on stuff you hate."
"You're a fine one to talk," I muttered, but their support of my decision made me feel a lot better.
"And now?" Joe asked gently. I could see him working out how much longer my bar tab would remain unpaid.
"I've been talking to the people at the university," I said. They groaned. "What? It shouldn't surprise anyone if I go back to studying."
"I'm not surprised," Adam agreed. "You really should have known, you've been there long enough."
"Yeah, so anyway, I'll start on my Masters degree, and hopefully I'll get to do some teaching again."
"And hopefully we'll see you more often, too," Adam suggested, and Joe nodded.
"I guarantee it," I promised. "There are still too many adventures for us to share."
"And you still owe me," Joe started.
"I know, I know," I laughed. "Adam, could you lend me some money to pay Joe?"
"No, no, no," Adam said. "I've a better idea. I'll pay your bar tab when I pay mine."
Joe snorted. "That means never, doesn't it?"
"If you say so, Joe, I accept," Adam said gravely, while I dissolved into laughter.
Joe shook his head, defeated. "I'm never getting paid..."
"But Joe," I protested. "At least I'll keep thinking up adventures for you."
"In which Adam is always the hero," Joe grumbled.
"You know, that's right," Adam smirked.
"That is true," I mused. "But it isn't right. I'll write one where you are the hero, just for you, Joe!"
"That's more like it," Joe smiled. "Meanwhile, let's celebrate your escape from the rat race."
"Yes, let's," Adam and I agreed, raising our bottles in a toast.
Joe's bar didn't close till very, very late that night, but it was worth it, at least for those with unpaid bar tabs.
- fin -
(C) Leoni Venter February 2003
Disclaimer: Adam and Joe and his bar belong to Rysher: Panzer/Davis. I was just visiting them, so there!