Day 9
So today, a story that has a strange twist, a solution I never thought of until tonight, perhaps brought on by a dose of bronchitis that sent me scurrying to the doctor, or maybe by all the conversation about corona virus. Anyway, it’s a different idea, and I wish I thought of it when I was younger. It might actually have worked.
Following up my complaint of yesterday, the failure to note the amazing women of the past and present, I have decided each day to include the names of five amazing women in the preamble to my column. They are in no particular order of importance, being chosen randomly from a list I am beginning. I will list them alphabetically, so no one is assumed to be more important than another. Tonight, five amazing women.
Maya Angelou - writer
Shirley Chisholm - first African-American woman to run for president
Indira Gandhi - former Prime Minister of India
Sally Ride - astronaut
Elizabeth Warren - US politician
SICK DAY
Maria slipped into the seat next to the woman, and handed her the card she grabbed as she left her doctor’s office. “Here”, she said. “I can’t help but notice that you are never, ever well. I thought…maybe this doctor could help you. His prices are reasonable, and if you don’t have insurance, he’ll work with you.”
The young woman sniffed into her tissue and glanced at the card. She smiled and winked at Maria, and shook her head. She watched the back of the young man moving down the aisle toward the exit, taking care to stay as far away from the two women as possible. Once he was out the door, she spoke.
“Thank you, but…” she paused. “I’m not really sick.”
Maria offered the card again. “I know, it may just be allergies. But that can be miserable, and I’m sure he can help.”
The woman smiled and offered Maria her hand. “I’m Fallon.”
“Hi, Fallon. I’m Maria. I just…I want to help. I hate to see people having so much trouble. I’ve noticed you for some time, and you are always sick.”
Fallon stuck her tissue back in her purse and leaned back in her seat, her hands behind her head. They were the only two passengers still on the bus, and with no more stops before their station, no one was going to enter. “I’m fine”, she announced, no trace of the congestion she always seemed to have showing in her voice. “It’s just…can you keep a secret?”
Maria nodded. “I’ve kept so many secrets I hardly have anything to talk about to anyone anymore.” The women enjoyed a shared laugh.
“Well, it’s like this. You know how men are always sitting next to you, running their hand along the seat until it touches your knee, or reaching across to open the window, managing to contact your breast?”
Maria knew. She had pushed away more than her share of men’s hands, and had gotten in the habit of opening the window the moment the man suggested it was warm on the bus.
“If you are sick, they won’t sit next to you. Sneeze, blow your nose, or just cough up what sounds like a wad of phlegm, and no one will sit next to you…well, except nice ladies offering their doctor’s card, of course.” Fallon smiled to let Maria know there were no hard feelings.
“It works? They buy it?”
“Every time.” Fallon stood, wobbling as the bus slid to a stop next to the last station on the evening’s run. “I think this is our stop”, she announced.
Maria slipped out the door behind the woman, wanting to know more about this great trick. If it worked, she might have a solution for one of her problems, one that kept her distracted and annoyed much of the time.
“It’s simple”, Fallon explained. “Don’t go anywhere without a bag of Kleenex…you can use cloth if you don’t like the waste. Make sure at least a couple on the top look used…I use Vaseline. Then when you see the men boarding, looking at you, blow really loudly, sneeze if you can sneeze on cue, and you’re home free. Unless you’re one of the women who likes men grabbing their ass. I know some women do, but I don’t.” Fallon laughed. “And if you see a man you like, you can leave the tissues in the bag. That doesn’t seem likely on this line, though. I know they all wear nice suits, but the men seem to all be jerks. Like, you know, someone put a restriction on tickets here so they could only be purchased by obnoxious assholes.”
Maria laughed and offered to buy coffee for her new friend, and they talked about what Maria started calling Fallon’s method. They stayed for over an hour until Maria realized it was time to feed her cat.
The next day, Maria stuffed an entire box full of Kleenex in her purse, having coated three of them with Vaseline like Fallon had shown her. She didn’t get an opportunity to try it out on the bus, because leaving for work early put her on a bus that was nearly empty. Only an old panhandler asleep in the back seat and a woman with a ramrod straight back shared the bus with her.
She dropped her laptop in her office, and headed to the conference room. Time for the big meeting. She hated the meetings, because she always felt feet fondling hers under the table, and hands on her knee, sometimes on both sides at once. She arrived early and slid into a better seat than she usually got, because she tried to wait until everyone was there so she could pick a seat between two women, if possible. Today she was interested in trying Fallon’s method.
Maria piled a couple of Kleenex on the table in front of her, and held one in her hand as she reviewed the agenda and documents for the meeting. She heard the door open, and two of the salesmen chatting about the women they knew, and what sort of hot body rating they had. She picked up a Kleenex, and blew her nose loudly. The man who was about to slide into the chair next to hers jerked away and went to the other end of the table. His friend was close behind.
One by one the chairs filled in, men in business suits and power ties avoiding the chairs next to Maria. Women slipped in, sliding with their backs against the wall until they darted forward to a chair, protecting themselves from the pinching and slapping that was the usual means of greeting most of the men adopted with most of the women. Maria rested snug in her chair, blowing her nose as needed, until the meeting started. She smiled at the empty chair next to her, and turned her attention to the chairman. It was going to be a much better meeting than usual.
In time, Maria’s method…Fallon’s method, she insisted…spread throughout the office, as women adopted illness to protect themselves. The boss responded to the queries of the staff about why the women were always sick by calling in an air quality specialist to check for sick building syndrome. The building came up clean, and the boss shrugged. No one ever solved the mystery of the sick women, but Maria and Fallon had a good laugh over coffee over the bewildered look on everyone’s faces when the building came up clean.
The mystery of the mysterious female disease remains part of the company legend to this day. Maria has aged gracefully, and no longer has to dodge male hands. She now supervises many of the young men, and women. And for some reason, the disease still lingers in the building, making the young women ill during every meeting. And the women meet for coffee and smile.