So at work during the Vikings game I was sitting on a table five people long. Although two of them were runners, there were so many things we were asked to keep track of, all five of us were tracking things. (I don't think I'll talk about this, but things got so cattywampus that even I began running.)
I remember seeing one of them from Vikings games yore. The other three I don't think I've ever seen before in my life. I still don't know where they came from or how they got this job. I assume that they all know the one person I am familiar with.
As the "veteran" I kind of tried to take charge of the situation, asking the other four who wanted to take which statistic. I kind of knew that that could get some static, and I think that rubbed one of them the wrong way. She was sitting in the seat next to me. She was absolutely hot, wearing a shirt that bared her shoulders. I think she works in broadcast journalism alongside the person I know; they were talking about one of their colleagues working for an NBA team now.
She also admitted, when we spoke to one of the people we were ostensibly working for for the game, that she's not much of a sports fan. She is an ostensible Vikings fan -- because she's from Minnesota, she needs to root for the Minnesota football team. And I'm not sure if knows football. If she is only a casual Vikings fan, how much does she know about football? Whatever, I guess that if she understands what yards after contact means, she can count.
Anyway, while we were divvying up the statistics we were supposed to track, I think I made a comment about how things can get very hectic during the game. To which she says something to the effect of, "Yeah, otherwise they (the people we are working for, I think) might kill us," (I totally could be wrong about even being in the ballpark of this paraphrase), to which I reply, "Unless we kill each other first." To which she replied, under her breath and yet loud enough for me to hear distinctly, "Yeah, whatever."
OK! Now, in retrospect, maybe what I said was a dumb line to utter. All I'm saying is that whenever retorts something to what I say with, "Yeah, whatever," that's proof positive she doesn't really want to have anything to do with me. (And by the way, I don't want to sound all Men's Right's Activist over this. She's just a bitch. That's all I'm saying.) I think her decision to be cold to me from now on bore out during the game. We didn't talk that much, and some disagreement over a notepad aside, we were civil as can be towards one another. But thinking that we were going to be people that actually worked well together flew out the damn window when she said, "Yeah, whatever."
Well, I don't know if I'll ever see her again. I ain't leaving this job; she might not give a damn about it. Yeah, whatever.
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