February 10th seven years ago. A Sunday. I was sorting silverware into their respective bins in the back of the Cannon Center dishroom. Loads of fun. (Get it?!) I heard:
gasp! "Have you had lunch yet?"
"Oh, yeah." I said. He was obviously the supervisor, one of who's responsibilities was to make sure the crew all got fed lunch during their shift. It's a good thing I had taken my own initiative because at that point lunch had been cleaned up and dinner wouldn't be for a few hours. Not that I blamed him--this wasn't my normal shift, and I wasn't one to draw unnecessary attention to myself.
He caught up with me later at the end of the industrial-sized dishwasher. "So what are you in to?" he asked me. Steam burst from the washer as the hot, wet plates were conveyed out. We worked side-by-side stacking them on a cart.
"Cartoons." I said my typical kind of obscure one word answer given to boys, which translated roughly to: "I'm unique, don't bother unless you really think you know what you're getting yourself into."
"Really? What kind?"
Darn he broke through my preliminary defenses. Switching full power to even more obscure back-up defense. "Anime." I said. Alas, my back up defense was broken down when he said that he, also was a fan. The rest of the shift was spent in a smattering of small conversations about various shows we enjoyed.
Before leaving he asked if I wanted to get together some time and watch Anime together. "Sure, why not?" He said he'd just get my number off the work schedule.
Is that legal?
Four days later, I was hanging out down the hall on our dorm floor. My roommate found me and delivered a valentine I had received through dorm mail:
"Who's it from?!" The overexcited co-eds wanted to know.
"Umm. . . I think it's the guy I met at work on Sunday." I walked back to my room and closed the door, turning the valentine over in my hand to read the name again.
Not too common, but a familiar name. It goes well with "Jeanette." Yeah. . . I could marry someone named "Jeremy."