Val's Nobody 'Til Some Genius Needs Her

As you might guess, Val's working hours are fairly full of flapdoodlery and folderol. The first three hours sail by in a jiffy, and then there's lunch at 10:53 a.m. After that, it's pretty much downhill. No reason. It's like the universe, constantly conspiring against me, has figured out where I am. Loose ends suddenly need tying, missing assignments are located, deadlines pop up, surprise meetings materialize, odds need ending, and the wheels squeak more at the end of the day.

So there I was last Thursday, reveling in the thought of a HALF-DAY of school, glossing right over that stay until 6:00 for conferences part, when the phonograph record of my life came to a screeching halt. It was 10:53 a.m. I had just turned on my cell phone (we're not allowed to have them on in the classroom, you know) and was gathering my leftover pizza for lunch. Uh huh. The moldy ciabatta sandwich was just a gleam in my eye back then.

Rumble-rumble. I turned from turning my laptop to LOCKED to see what my phone was texting me about.

10:18 Call me on your lunch break. Enough to strike fear into the heart of a mother with a 20-year-old know-it-all away at college.

10:24 I'm fine. No one is hurt or anything. But I have a slight emergency regarding my laptop. Well. That was a relief. He wasn't in the hospital, jail, or under a car.

10:53 Will call around 11:20. Didn't want him waiting by his phone. I have done this with him before. That's when lunch is over and I'm back in my room for plan time. Clear sailing today, you know, what with the half day that ends at 12:45, and only 30 minutes of another class for me to teach.

10:53 Okay. Can it be sooner? I'm on a tight timeline for today. Who isn't?

10:55 Unless you're in class. Such a thoughtful boy. Not wanting me to lose my job BEFORE I'M ABLE TO RETIRE IN MAY!

I called him while my leftover pizza was warming. "I am on my way to lunch. The tardy bell just rang, and I am probably going to lose my seat at the teacher lunch table."

"Oh. Okay. I just wanted to tell you that my laptop died. You know I was planning to get one this spring, and we budgeted that money in my account when you cashed out that one CD. I have two projects due today and tomorrow, because I was gone last week to California, and I'm glad I backed everything up two days ago. And I fly out Monday to Vegas, and I have to give a presentation. But my laptop is dead. They have one in the bookstore, and I just wanted to know if it's all right if I put that on my account. It's $2200, and I know we budgeted $1500, and I was going to pay another $500 when I'm getting paid from my internship. So I wanted to know if it's okay."

"Yes. It's okay. Today is the 22nd. They will send me an e-statement on the 25th, and I'll have until the 15th to pay it. So it's fine. Go ahead. I'll take the money out of your savings account. There's time. But right now I am really on a tight timeline, going to lunch. Just do it."

"Okay. Bye."

I went on to lunch. My chair was still vacant. They know better than to mess with Val-nearing-retirement. She don't-care less than Honey Badger.

"Where were you, Val?"

"Is something wrong?"

"Everything okay?"

Which perhaps tells you how fond Val is of her lunch. Never misses.

"Yes. Genius called. He's having computer problems. Mainly because his is dead, and he needs a new one."

A commotion occurred at the table next to us. The one where some Einstein among my cronies moved some ne'er-do-wells on the day that I was at jury duty. As the village was attempting to raise the child, my phone rang. I never take it to lunch. But I did today.

"Mom! The bookstore says I can't put the laptop on my account! I can only have $1500 on there! Do you have the credit card?"

"No. I don't bring it to work. I don't carry it out of the house. It's in my office. I don't want somebody scamming my information off it by walking too close to me with one of those card readers." My cronies turned to look at me like I was E.F. Hutton. I put my hand over the end of my cell phone. "Genius says I'm a conspiracy theorist."

"So, I'm here in the bookstore, and I need to get the laptop. Does Dad have his credit card?"

"I'm sure he does. IF you can get him to answer his phone. I have my debit card. Will they take that? Do you want me to go get it?"

"Yeah. Go get the debit. I might have to hand the phone to one of the workers."

"It will take a minute. I'll have to walk all the way back to my room. And get out my purse. And find the card. And I'm carrying my lunch along with me. And I'm going to miss the drama with some kids getting in trouble!"

We processed the transaction. It took four tries. For some reason, the machine wasn't taking the numbers. "Mom. Read them to me again. I'm going to have to write them down. The machine is acting up. What's the security code on the back? Just in case they need it."

"I don't know. It's worn off. I can kind of tell two numbers. But that other one might be a 3. Or an 8."

"Okay. I'll put 3. There. It's done now. The total is $2467.98."

"You make sure that paper with the number goes with you!"

"They are shredding it right now as I watch."

"Okay. Enjoy your new laptop. I love you."

"I love you too. Bye."

Funny how the bookstore carried a laptop suitable to the needs of Genius. Of course, it IS the college of science and technology. So I'm sure the computer geeks majoring in computer geekness like Genius are a good client base for high-end laptops. It's not like Genius could waltz into Walmart and grab a Lenovo for $249.99. The computer is his bread-and-butter. That would be like a NASCAR champion driving a Ford Fiesta.

Here's his new precious:

It's just like the five-year-old dead precious, except thinner and lighter, according to Genius.

I had to ask for a picture.