“What are you looking at,” Linda* asked.
“Oh, just some guy in a truck over there,” I answered, still distracted by the white mover’s truck and its driver.
By the time Linda had turned around to face the intersection of Weyburn and Broxton, the white truck had disappeared south on Broxton.
Linda looked back at me, “who were you checking out?”
“Just some guy.”
I tried to explain that I’d seen the truck’s driver several times. Apparently, the moving company he works is often ontracted by UCLA to move professors and staff from one office to another. I first saw Moving Guy in December 2003 when the Student Retention Center was moving from its temporary location back to the Men’s Gym (now known as the Student Activities Center). Moving Guy was dressed in jeans, work boots and a gray uniform shirt. I think I was dressed like someone cleaning and packing her tiny cubicle: in sweats and a sweatshirt.
I didn’t talk to Moving Guy. I’ve never talked to Moving Guy. I just see him occasionally around campus, doing his job. I’ve seen him in Moore Hall, the home of the Graduate School of Education & Information Studies a couple of times.
The last time I saw Moving Guy was a few weeks ago as I left my office. He held a door for me and smiled. A few steps later, I went in one direction and he went in another.
“So you never talk to him?” Linda asked.
“Nope. I don’t even know how to start a conversation,” feeling like a loser. I’d had plenty of opportunities and almost 4 years!
We continued catching up and eating our trendy frozen yogurt with fruit toppings. In the back of my mind, I thought about the next time I’d see Moving Guy. Without a doubt, it’ll happen and I’m sure I won’t be over my shyness.
*Pseudonym my friend uses whenever she needs to give a name at a coffee of frozen yogurt shop. She’s rather not have her Chinese name spelled incorrectly.
ha! i have a Vending Machine Stocking Guy.
i could talk to him, but then i run the risk of ruining my appreciation for him. i’d rather a canvas of nameless stranger on which to paint a fantasy than a luis with a pregnant and yet very understanding wife at home (somehow it wouldn’t bother her when he asked for my number..?). silliness, but you know what i mean. this is like the one restaurant that i’m petrified to go back to because in my memory the meal i had there was among the best in my life and i don’t think the reality of a return trip could ever stack up to what i have stored in my mind.
but you might as well say ‘good morning’.. you never know.