Free Red Tape by Michele Lynn Seigfried Page B

firing a range of other questions at me.
    “Why isn’t the mayor here? Doesn’t the mayor have office hours to speak with residents? Doesn’t the mayor think it’s important to be here for the residents?”
    I tried to make a mental note of the questions, so I could answer them. I said, “Well, I…”
    He cut me off. He pointed at me and yelled, “I am not done talking, moron!”
    I usually prided myself on being helpful, but it was clear to me that this insulting guy did not want answers to his questions. He wanted to speak with the mayor and he was not going to be patient about it. He said that I didn’t understand why he wanted to meet with the mayor and he started on a forty-five-minute exposé about his life, his house, and the dunes he wanted. Obviously, he hadn’t remembered that I was well aware of the situation. I suspected he was older than I originally surmised and I wondered if he was losing his mind, his memory, or both.
    Each time I tried to get a word in, he would get angry and cut me off. I had learned along the way that sometimes an irate customer just wanted to be heard and didn’t really want a solution to their problem. So I listened. And listened. And listened. Then my mind drifted, imagining the food in the kitchen. My stomach grumbled. I could smell the food. I could see the various employees heading over to the kitchen and closing their offices for the lunch hour. I was jealous. I was annoyed. I wished he would go away. Then finally, he stopped talking.
    I snapped out of my daydream. I did not know what else to say other than what I had already said to him, so I asked, “Would you like me to have the mayor call you to set up an appointment?”
    “No, I want to talk to someone immediately.”
    “I’m sorry. I don’t know Mayor O’Donnell’s schedule and I don’t know when she will be in. I can call her for you and ask.”
    “Yes, I want you to call her now.”
    I did a mental head slap. I had forgotten the mayor wasn’t around. She had left for a trip to Florida to visit her family and I really did not want to bother her. Plus, she didn’t typically answer her phone when she was out of state. I told him I would get her number and call her and I headed into my office to make the call. As I predicted, there was no answer.
    I came back out to the counter after a few minutes and informed Triggers that I had left a message.
    Triggers persisted. I tried to reassure him that I would call him as soon as I heard something, but he kept at me. My head was spinning. I was starving. I suddenly felt nauseous—I sometimes got low blood sugar when I hadn’t eaten. I didn’t know what to do. Maybe I needed a man to tell him the same thing I had been telling him. Mr. Triggers seemed as if he did not like women too much. I mean, everyone liked Bonnie—she was super sweet to all the residents, but he hated her.
    “Let me see what I can do, Mr. Triggers. I will get the administrator and be right back.”
    I pulled Rodney away from the party and asked him please to talk to Mr. Triggers for me. It was one o’clock and the party was wrapping up anyway. Rodney seemed very calm and he smelled like the men’s cologne counter at Macy’s. I wondered if he had been smoking a little sumthin’ sumthin’ before work and was hiding the smell with his friend, Tommy Hilfiger.
    Rodney approached Mr. Triggers. He reminded me of a used car salesman in the way he spoke. He was very slick. He had Triggers smoothed over and out the door within twenty minutes. I hadn’t noticed that Bonnie had returned. She saw the look of pure frustration on my face.
    “Do you want me to run out and get you something to eat? Most of the food is gone, although there may be some dessert left.”
    I told Bonnie that it was not necessary for her to run out for me, I would leave for lunch in a few minutes. I was famished and starting to feel faint. I wished I had eaten breakfast that morning, but I thought there would be an absurd