The Joy of Old Girl Friends

I had a friend here in the office who recently transferred to another department in another building way over there on the other side of The Big City. Let’s say her name is…uh…uh…Silvia. Yeah, that’s it: Silvia; spelled differently than most Sylvias. Anyway, Silvia is real smart with numbers and dollars and pie charts and that sorta stuff. She speaks perfect English although her native language is perfect Spanish. She was real helpful when I started on this job—introductions, how to make coffee, a crash course in office gossip, that sort of thing. And she even patiently taught me a little Spanish. I got to help her with a few computer things. We discovered a few other common interests.

Then one day about six weeks ago she left. Off she went on a three-week honeymoon to Mexico following her sudden decision to get married. Who coulda guessed? She came back for one day, packed her office into a couple of boxes; light-footed it around the office saying “See ya, it’s been nice working with you,” then—poof!—she was gone. We’ve exchanged a couple of e-mails, but I miss Silvia; she’s a good friend.

Then this week Cheryl, spelled like most Cheryls, moved into Silvia’s old office. She brought in a lot more than a couple of boxes. She slipped around the office saying, “Hi, I’m Cheryl,” and then started a little conversation per person. Well, come to find out, Cheryl and Silvia traded desks and traded jobs. Sorta. Pretty much.

I don’t know how good she is at her job, but Cheryl is way different than Silvia. She doesn’t speak Spanish, her hometown is in Kansas and she’s…well, older than Silvia. But I’ll work on being her friend, too. Maybe I can give her that important crash course in office gossip.