LJ Idol, Week 4
I was walking down the hall, doing my best not to spill the hot coffee in my over-filled mug, when I spotted Marv walking towards me. I got myself ready.
“Hey, New Guy, what’s up?”
“Not much, man.” I replied with a cheeky grin. “How are you?” This had been the usual routine every morning for the past few weeks.
“What?” he said, his gaze snapping to me, as if I just broke his concentration from something else altogether. “I was talking to him,” he continued, motioning with his hand.
I did a little spin as I continued walking forward, spilling some hot coffee on my hand as I did so. Some guy was walking behind me that I had never seen before.
“Hey man,” this stranger said to Marv in reply. I quickly scurried to my section of the office, hoping that my red embarrassed face wouldn’t be noticed.
It was inevitable, I thought. I wasn’t going to be the New Guy forever. Mind you, I was aware of the fact that this was a label many tried to avoid and were happy to shed. For me, though, it was the one source of identity I seemed to have at this job. With so many employees and so many nameless faces, having a title like “New Guy” put you in a class above the rest. Now, without that, I was one of them - a nameless face.
Marv, well, everybody knew who Marv was. Big Marv. Big Hilarious Marv. He was the guy that everyone wanted to sit near in the lunch room. He was the guy making people laugh so hard at the water cooler that they would have uncontrollable laughing fits. Most importantly, he seemed to be the unofficial giver of nicknames.
Everybody knew who Red Hat was, because that was what Marv called him. “Red Hat, looking good, my man,” he’d bellow out when he saw him from across the room. Honestly, I wasn’t sure why he was called Red Hat, as I wasn’t here when the name originated. For that matter, I wasn’t even completely sure what his real name was. Rodney, maybe?
It never failed to amuse the supervisors and upper-management, either. Sometimes, they’d come down to our floor to check on things and take a walk around, and our supervisor, Daryl, would have to show Marv off - as if Marv was a fascinating joke-bot that he had constructed in his garage and had been brought in for show and tell.
“Mr. Gordon, you’ve got to hear this. Marv, tell Mr. Gordon all the nicknames you have for people here.”
Marv would stand up, proudly. He’d crack his fingers, maybe twist around a little bit too, like he was trying to crack his back or neck. This was his show.
“Well, boss, let’s see.” He made his way around our large ocean of cubicles, pointing out each moniker. “We’ve got Sparky, Cat Lady, Elbows, Goldilocks, Pistol Pete, Grab Bag, Porcupine, Woodrow Wilson, Honky Tonk, Spoony, Grover, Chuckles, Hot Dog, Funky Salmon, Galaga, Geraldo, Princess, Tony the Tiger, Poopshoes, Hoagie Kid, Bride of Hoagie Kid, Pepsi, Sloppy, Tumbles annnnnd…” He was looking around the room, knowing that he was missing someone. I bit my lip a little. Surely he was looking for me, right? New Guy?
“Ah, there he is,” he said, finally. “New Guy.” However, his finger was not pointing at me. It was pointing at the new New Guy. The guy who had been walking behind me previously. My heart sank. I was nobody. I was worse than nobody. I was a nobody without a clever nickname.
It was a few days after this particular incident when I happened to find myself in the men’s room at the same time as Marv. I don’t know what possessed me, other than my utter fear of being a nobody in this company, but I decided to say something.
“Hey, Marv.”
“Hey, man.” Just “man?” That’s all I got?
“I…uh…love the nicknames, man. Some hilarious stuff, there.”
“Thanks, man. I just like messin’ around though, you know?”
“Yeah, well, I was thinking… Like, I’d love to have one of your nicknames.”
“Huh?” He seemed confused by my request.
“Like, I want you to give me some crazy nickname.”
“What? Man, it doesn’t work like that.”
“Why not? Anything. You can call me, like, Froggy or something.”
“In what way are you froggy,” he said to me skeptically, his eyebrows raised.
“I’m just throwing out ideas here. You’re the funny one. I’m sure you can come up with something.”
“Dude, you don’t just get handed a nickname. It happens naturally. Like, when I see something about you that I think works for a nickname.”
“Come on, man,” I said, irritated. “You’re telling me that there was a reason you nicknamed somebody Funky Salmon?”
“Well yeah,” he said, nodding with a completely straight face. “One day this guy was wearin’ this salmon colored shirt and he was doing some wacky dance. Thus: Funky Salmon.”
“Alright, well, keep your eye on me,” I said, sighing. “See what you can come up with. I’m not some nobody, you know.”
“I…I’ll think about it a little.”
It was a few days after that conversation when one of the board members, Mr. Benson, was visiting our office. As per the usual, Daryl made a point of asking Marv to dictate all the wacky nicknames he had created for his co-workers. Everyone stopped working, as the typically did in this situation, smiling widely. They loved this. They loved being called out by Marv. Big Marv. Big Hilarious Marv.
He did the finger-cracking thing. He did the back and neck thing. He cleared his throat.
“Well, let’s see. We’ve got: “Sparky, Cat Lady…” and he proceeded to run through the whole list once again. Finally, he reached the end of his list with “…and New Guy,” he said, pointing to the new New Guy. He paused for a few moments, then he suddenly looked over to me, making eye contact. He smiled widely.
“Oh, I almost forgot, I’ve got a new nickname to add to the list,” he continued, pointing to me. “That’s Narcissus.”
“Hey, New Guy, what’s up?”
“Not much, man.” I replied with a cheeky grin. “How are you?” This had been the usual routine every morning for the past few weeks.
“What?” he said, his gaze snapping to me, as if I just broke his concentration from something else altogether. “I was talking to him,” he continued, motioning with his hand.
I did a little spin as I continued walking forward, spilling some hot coffee on my hand as I did so. Some guy was walking behind me that I had never seen before.
“Hey man,” this stranger said to Marv in reply. I quickly scurried to my section of the office, hoping that my red embarrassed face wouldn’t be noticed.
It was inevitable, I thought. I wasn’t going to be the New Guy forever. Mind you, I was aware of the fact that this was a label many tried to avoid and were happy to shed. For me, though, it was the one source of identity I seemed to have at this job. With so many employees and so many nameless faces, having a title like “New Guy” put you in a class above the rest. Now, without that, I was one of them - a nameless face.
Marv, well, everybody knew who Marv was. Big Marv. Big Hilarious Marv. He was the guy that everyone wanted to sit near in the lunch room. He was the guy making people laugh so hard at the water cooler that they would have uncontrollable laughing fits. Most importantly, he seemed to be the unofficial giver of nicknames.
Everybody knew who Red Hat was, because that was what Marv called him. “Red Hat, looking good, my man,” he’d bellow out when he saw him from across the room. Honestly, I wasn’t sure why he was called Red Hat, as I wasn’t here when the name originated. For that matter, I wasn’t even completely sure what his real name was. Rodney, maybe?
It never failed to amuse the supervisors and upper-management, either. Sometimes, they’d come down to our floor to check on things and take a walk around, and our supervisor, Daryl, would have to show Marv off - as if Marv was a fascinating joke-bot that he had constructed in his garage and had been brought in for show and tell.
“Mr. Gordon, you’ve got to hear this. Marv, tell Mr. Gordon all the nicknames you have for people here.”
Marv would stand up, proudly. He’d crack his fingers, maybe twist around a little bit too, like he was trying to crack his back or neck. This was his show.
“Well, boss, let’s see.” He made his way around our large ocean of cubicles, pointing out each moniker. “We’ve got Sparky, Cat Lady, Elbows, Goldilocks, Pistol Pete, Grab Bag, Porcupine, Woodrow Wilson, Honky Tonk, Spoony, Grover, Chuckles, Hot Dog, Funky Salmon, Galaga, Geraldo, Princess, Tony the Tiger, Poopshoes, Hoagie Kid, Bride of Hoagie Kid, Pepsi, Sloppy, Tumbles annnnnd…” He was looking around the room, knowing that he was missing someone. I bit my lip a little. Surely he was looking for me, right? New Guy?
“Ah, there he is,” he said, finally. “New Guy.” However, his finger was not pointing at me. It was pointing at the new New Guy. The guy who had been walking behind me previously. My heart sank. I was nobody. I was worse than nobody. I was a nobody without a clever nickname.
It was a few days after this particular incident when I happened to find myself in the men’s room at the same time as Marv. I don’t know what possessed me, other than my utter fear of being a nobody in this company, but I decided to say something.
“Hey, Marv.”
“Hey, man.” Just “man?” That’s all I got?
“I…uh…love the nicknames, man. Some hilarious stuff, there.”
“Thanks, man. I just like messin’ around though, you know?”
“Yeah, well, I was thinking… Like, I’d love to have one of your nicknames.”
“Huh?” He seemed confused by my request.
“Like, I want you to give me some crazy nickname.”
“What? Man, it doesn’t work like that.”
“Why not? Anything. You can call me, like, Froggy or something.”
“In what way are you froggy,” he said to me skeptically, his eyebrows raised.
“I’m just throwing out ideas here. You’re the funny one. I’m sure you can come up with something.”
“Dude, you don’t just get handed a nickname. It happens naturally. Like, when I see something about you that I think works for a nickname.”
“Come on, man,” I said, irritated. “You’re telling me that there was a reason you nicknamed somebody Funky Salmon?”
“Well yeah,” he said, nodding with a completely straight face. “One day this guy was wearin’ this salmon colored shirt and he was doing some wacky dance. Thus: Funky Salmon.”
“Alright, well, keep your eye on me,” I said, sighing. “See what you can come up with. I’m not some nobody, you know.”
“I…I’ll think about it a little.”
It was a few days after that conversation when one of the board members, Mr. Benson, was visiting our office. As per the usual, Daryl made a point of asking Marv to dictate all the wacky nicknames he had created for his co-workers. Everyone stopped working, as the typically did in this situation, smiling widely. They loved this. They loved being called out by Marv. Big Marv. Big Hilarious Marv.
He did the finger-cracking thing. He did the back and neck thing. He cleared his throat.
“Well, let’s see. We’ve got: “Sparky, Cat Lady…” and he proceeded to run through the whole list once again. Finally, he reached the end of his list with “…and New Guy,” he said, pointing to the new New Guy. He paused for a few moments, then he suddenly looked over to me, making eye contact. He smiled widely.
“Oh, I almost forgot, I’ve got a new nickname to add to the list,” he continued, pointing to me. “That’s Narcissus.”