Tuesday, May 18, 2010


Lucy answered the phone when you called the hospital lab to order blood work or to check on results. She was a year or two older than me and nearly as tall. She had a model's figure, Farrah Fawcett hair, a dark tan, and puppy-like brown eyes. She turned heads wherever she went.

Unlike almost everyone else on second shift, her job in the lab meant she wore street clothes instead of a uniform. Being able to wear whatever she wanted was a huge advantage in a very competitive environment. And Lucy knew it.

If they weren't in backless hospital gowns, the rest of the women at the hospital wore white or light-blue polyester uniforms over several required layers to make sure nothing showed through. Hair had to stay pinned back, under an attractive nursing cap, or in some cases, in a lovely hairnet. Perfume was prohibited. Make-up was used sparingly, if at all.

Lucy stood out like a flamingo in a flock of penguins. I can still see her tossing her long, blond hair as she gracefully crossed the hospital cafeteria in 3-inch heels and a strapless red sundress with little white polka dots. You could still smell her Halston perfume a good thirty minutes after she left the room.

When I heard Lucy had a crush on me I was a little flattered and a whole lot terrified. Lucy dripped sex. She was clearly far more experienced than I was. But then, who wasn't?

Lucy and I started taking our dinner breaks together. Once Kathy found out I wasn't going to dinner with her, she'd schedule my break last and spend the entire shift pretending I didn't exist. Consequently, I didn't have plans after work and was free to do something with Lucy.

Mostly we sat in my car in the parking lot of Saint Joseph hospital smoking cigarettes and talking. Looking back, I really have to admire her persistence. She did everything but write me a note to let me know she'd make out if I just made the first move. That was exactly why the first move never came.

As you might imagine, our relationship was short-lived. I don't remember why it ended (other than the fact I was gay and didn't know it), but it did. We stopped taking dinner breaks together and avoided each other as much as possible. That's when I first heard the expression about not dipping one's pen in company ink. It was really awkward for a while.

Must not have been too bad. Wasn't long before I was going out after work and taking my dinner breaks with another coworker. Some people are slow learners.

No comments:

Follow CrotchetyMan on Twitter