thing to do was move on. Right? Ugh. Why did dating have to be so complicated?
To distract myself from my dating debacles, I focused on customer reports all morning, and was deep into typing up a customer inquiry for our sales team (it had been a pleasant call for a change) when my phone beeped.
I leaned toward the speaker. “Yes?”
“Hi, Ellen.” Ginger’s perky receptionist voice rang out. “Gilbert Watson would like to see you in the lobby.”
Frowning, I remembered it was Friday and checked my watch. “Didn’t he already meet with tech support?”
“Yes, but he specifically asked to speak with you now.” Her voice lowered. “He’s very insistent.”
Why didn’t that surprise me? “I’ll be right out.”
With a few keystrokes on the computer, I checked Gilbert Watson’s file to see if tech support (aka: Teddy) had solved our client’s laptop issues. No updates. Great, I had to walk out blind.
I straightened my blouse, headed toward the lobby, and prepared myself for another rant from Gilbert Watson on how our software program was to blame for his computer issues and that we needed to pay up.
Pasting a smile on my face, I approached the tall elderly man in the lobby who stood next to a woman with short, curly white hair. “Good morning, Mr. Watson. I’m Ellen, the customer service rep you spoke with on the phone. How was your meeting with tech support?”
He introduced me to his wife, then to my utter astonishment, pumped my hand enthusiastically. “Wouldn’t you know, it turns out I downloaded myself a virus containing spyware that slowed my computer and even made it stop sometimes. Had nothing to do with the software program after all.”
Gee, that’s exactly what I’d tried to tell him. Repeatedly. “I’m relieved to hear it wasn’t our program, Mr. Watson.”
His brows came together suddenly as he felt the empty breast pocket on his collared shirt. “Left my glasses in the restroom.” Then he turned around. “I’ll be right back.”
Mrs. Watson chuckled as she watched the receptionist buzz her husband back to find his glasses. “Thank you for being so patient with Gilbert this past week, dear. When he gets it in his head that he’s being taken advantage of, there’s no reasoning with him. And from what I’ve heard, you’ve handled him very professionally. Can’t tell you how many times I’ve made him apologize over the years.”
Her admission made my mouth curve upward, especially since he’d insisted several times that his wife agreed with him. “If you don’t mind my asking, how long have you been married?”
Her forehead crinkled and she tapped each finger against her thumb, counting. “It’ll be fifty-two years this October.”
Clearly my lack of sleep had taken its toll on my professionalism because I blurted out, “What made you decide to marry him?”
Smiling, as if the answer was obvious, she said, “Gilbert? Well, I loved him, of course.”
With five decades of marriage under her belt, this woman had to know the secret to making marriage work. “Yes, but how’d you know that you were compatible? You must’ve had the same life goals so you knew there wouldn’t be conflicts, right?”
Did my tone sound as desperate as I felt?
“Throughout our marriage, I’m guessing our ‘life goals,’ as you put it, have changed at least half a dozen times. As far as conflicts go? That man can drive me crazy as no one else in the world can, I assure you.” She slid the back of her hand across her forehead as if to wipe pretend sweat away. “Still, I couldn’t imagine spending my life with anyone else but Gilbert.”
She had to be kidding me. These were her magic words of wisdom? That she couldn’t imagine living without him? “More than fifty percent of marriages end in divorce, Mrs. Watson. In order to make that lifelong decision, how did you know it would last forever?”
“I guess I didn’t.” She put her hand on my forearm. “But, I wasn’t
To distract myself from my dating debacles, I focused on customer reports all morning, and was deep into typing up a customer inquiry for our sales team (it had been a pleasant call for a change) when my phone beeped.
I leaned toward the speaker. “Yes?”
“Hi, Ellen.” Ginger’s perky receptionist voice rang out. “Gilbert Watson would like to see you in the lobby.”
Frowning, I remembered it was Friday and checked my watch. “Didn’t he already meet with tech support?”
“Yes, but he specifically asked to speak with you now.” Her voice lowered. “He’s very insistent.”
Why didn’t that surprise me? “I’ll be right out.”
With a few keystrokes on the computer, I checked Gilbert Watson’s file to see if tech support (aka: Teddy) had solved our client’s laptop issues. No updates. Great, I had to walk out blind.
I straightened my blouse, headed toward the lobby, and prepared myself for another rant from Gilbert Watson on how our software program was to blame for his computer issues and that we needed to pay up.
Pasting a smile on my face, I approached the tall elderly man in the lobby who stood next to a woman with short, curly white hair. “Good morning, Mr. Watson. I’m Ellen, the customer service rep you spoke with on the phone. How was your meeting with tech support?”
He introduced me to his wife, then to my utter astonishment, pumped my hand enthusiastically. “Wouldn’t you know, it turns out I downloaded myself a virus containing spyware that slowed my computer and even made it stop sometimes. Had nothing to do with the software program after all.”
Gee, that’s exactly what I’d tried to tell him. Repeatedly. “I’m relieved to hear it wasn’t our program, Mr. Watson.”
His brows came together suddenly as he felt the empty breast pocket on his collared shirt. “Left my glasses in the restroom.” Then he turned around. “I’ll be right back.”
Mrs. Watson chuckled as she watched the receptionist buzz her husband back to find his glasses. “Thank you for being so patient with Gilbert this past week, dear. When he gets it in his head that he’s being taken advantage of, there’s no reasoning with him. And from what I’ve heard, you’ve handled him very professionally. Can’t tell you how many times I’ve made him apologize over the years.”
Her admission made my mouth curve upward, especially since he’d insisted several times that his wife agreed with him. “If you don’t mind my asking, how long have you been married?”
Her forehead crinkled and she tapped each finger against her thumb, counting. “It’ll be fifty-two years this October.”
Clearly my lack of sleep had taken its toll on my professionalism because I blurted out, “What made you decide to marry him?”
Smiling, as if the answer was obvious, she said, “Gilbert? Well, I loved him, of course.”
With five decades of marriage under her belt, this woman had to know the secret to making marriage work. “Yes, but how’d you know that you were compatible? You must’ve had the same life goals so you knew there wouldn’t be conflicts, right?”
Did my tone sound as desperate as I felt?
“Throughout our marriage, I’m guessing our ‘life goals,’ as you put it, have changed at least half a dozen times. As far as conflicts go? That man can drive me crazy as no one else in the world can, I assure you.” She slid the back of her hand across her forehead as if to wipe pretend sweat away. “Still, I couldn’t imagine spending my life with anyone else but Gilbert.”
She had to be kidding me. These were her magic words of wisdom? That she couldn’t imagine living without him? “More than fifty percent of marriages end in divorce, Mrs. Watson. In order to make that lifelong decision, how did you know it would last forever?”
“I guess I didn’t.” She put her hand on my forearm. “But, I wasn’t
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