Human Interaction

Walk from subway to work a bit chilly, wind biting, but office usually stuffy to the extreme, so try to enjoy being cold to the bone. In office, heater, very very unhelpfully not working and image of the Ingalls family (this time burning furniture) recrudesces. Heater repair men appear after call made to maintenence. One worker says in thick Russian accent and solemn tones something very involved, of which I don't understand one word. This does not, however, prevent me from nodding and agreeing pleasantly. He nods and agrees with me too, but this does not get the heater fixed. (Question: is much of human interaction similarly well intentioned but useless? Answer is too depressing to think about.) It is so cold in office that Contssa and I do not underess, but keep on all of our clothes including hats, and in the case of the Contessa, mittens. This makes it very difficult for her to answer the phone and since tip of her nose blue, handle all of phone calls myself. Speak to the Wine Shop. Wine Shop very agreeable about delivery times and brand of wine and at end of conversation calls me Kiddo. Have dark thought that word would not have been used if had been standing before Wine Shop, but am still gratified. Also speak to woman who says very firmly that she Only Wants to Hear about Events Having to do with Writers. Tell her that we are an art instutute and offer to transfer her to the Writing Program, but she is not satisfied by this. She would like to speak to my supervisor. Put her on hold. The Contessa says that she will be my supervisor. Hand her phone so that she can cradle it against her ear with her mitt. The Contessa does stunning imitiation of the Vice-Boss's breezy way of pretending to listen and promising unreliably that It Will Be Taken Care Of. The Vice-Boss herself walks in on the tail end of this performance. The Contessa blushes furiously and says O what a nice coat you have. The coat not nice at all--made of the fur of animal that looks suspiciously like wet Poodle. The Vice-Boss very proudly says that it is Persian Lamb, Would you like to Touch It? Would not like to touch it, but see self in horror stroking fur and purring How Soft. Only consolation is that the Contessa does the same. When the Vice-Boss goes into office, The Contessa says she needs to go wash her hands. She adds sinisterly that she knows for a fact that Persian Lamb is a euphamism for lamb fetus.