I barged in from one dim office space to another brightly lit one.
INT. ROOM (FW)
Me: You look different today.
t: There was research on Go competitions that revealed one tends to make the wrong move when their opponent is dressed in red.
Me: Are you playing chess today?
t: No.
Me: I meant it figuratively.
I was afraid of my comment on t dressing like a McDonald manager was offensive. It was refreshing to see some color on him.
Me: How about eating at the corner fish soup shop?
d: Is it that time of the year for fish, t?
Me prompting G what type of fats are in milkfish.
d: Why not have t ask his G.
Me: He’s too slow.
We’re all laughing at t’s half typed prompt.
t: It only has 1/3 of the fats mackerel does.
Work has been busy lately–in the perverse way I relish whenever I find myself role-playing the emailroom boy, the drafter, the time coordinator, the meeting host, the commander, all at once. This is the first time I felt I had the advantage over switching between broke English and Chinese.
Even my boss had checked on me twice today, at lunchtime and after hours.
Hey, havent gotten to see you much this week
You okay?
Thanks for doing this.
Still a long way to go?
Do you need me for anything?