THE BONJOUR GUY
by Stephanie Carter
A French woman sits in the same area of the office I do. She's been here for eternity and smokes at her desk like nobody's business. (Yes, she smokes at herdesk. She's French.) Every day, a messenger delivers checks that she is to send out. Whenever he arrives, he shouts, "BONJOUR!" at the top of his lungs. He's been doing this for the past three years. Every day. From the middle of July to the middle of August, I filled in for the French woman. (Yes, she gets a month's vacation. She's French). Every day the delivery guy would bring me the checks but I got no "BONJOUR!" Instead, he asked me when the French woman was coming back. Every day. And he wears Drakkar Noir. Remember Drakkar Noir?
º º º
º º º
newsletter: short and not made of a deadly poison.