Living Bad Metaphors

Keep Your Clipboard Close

I glanced down at my clipboard,tapping my pen against the paper. I had circled and marked updifferent events of the agenda, notes to myself and reminders. Thiswas only my first year working the con, and I wanted to do it right.

"Hey, Lita?" my supervisor wassuddenly next to me, and I barely managed not to jump. I turned witha smile, hoping I wasn't turning pink. He smiled and pointed to adoor.

"Your charge is going to come throughthere. You ready?" he looked me up and down and then flipped mybadge, dangling on my lanyard.

"Of course I am! He's a person, justa regular person." I shrugged and got ready to head over, jugglingthe clipboard so I could tuck the pen behind my ear. I wished I hadtied my hair in a bun so I could stick the pen in it.

"Yeah..." the my supervisor lookeduncomfortable and trotted to keep up with me. He grimaced. "Thereare quite a few who think that they're better than us. I don't thinkJonathan is like that."

"Then I'll be fine." I adjustedthe earpiece and made sure I was on the right frequency. Mysupervisor looked me up and down and gave me a thumbs up beforedisappearing into the crowd.

I wasn't sure why I was assignedwrangler my first year working the con. As far as I could tell it wasa position that a lot of people wanted. I would have been happyworking guest services, or just walking around trying to make sureeveryone was having a good time.

But, no. After the interview, thedirector said I was clearly a wrangler. Something about my upbeatpersonality, but the way I didn't take bull shit. She mumbledsomething about how sometimes they needed to be kicked down a peg ortwo. So here I was, in my bright colored t shirt and dark pants, earpiece and clipboard in tow. Geek Fest emblazoned across my chest,Staff printed on the back. I made sure my badge displayed my name soJonathan would know who I was. I was told he'd been given a packetwith my information.

"Hey," I did jump that time. Mypen slipped from my ear and clattered to the floor. I spun, my handclamped to my thumping heart.

"Don't DO that!" I hissed. The boywho'd spoken to me chuckled softly and bent to help collect myaccessories. He handed to them to me with a grin.

"You're Lita? I'm Jon." he heldout a hand which I shook. His hand was quite a big larger than me. Hewasn't tall for the average person, but I drew the short end of thestick genetically and hovered a few inches under five foot five.Well, I thought. At least one of us could reach a higher shelf. He'dhave to be on tiptoe, though.

"Hi, Jon. Looks like on yourschedule you've got a tournament first?" I glanced at the board."So we'll start walking over there. You need a drink or anything?"I briskly began to head towards the auditorium hosting our arcade.

"Nope, I'm good." he wassideeyeing me thoughtfully. I gave a careful smile and hurried to theback elevators. Part of my job was to keep him from fans. In someways, it made me feel shitty. Part of the thrill of going to a conwas getting to be near these people that you loved. Part of theenjoyment of being crowded into these places and paying for thepriviledge was meeting the people that you adored and being withother people who wanted to meet them.

I punched the button for the elevator.

"I haven't seen you at one of thesebefore."

"Well, would you remember if youdid?" I gave a tight smile. "There's so many people, and you haveso much to do while you're here. There's no way you can rememberevery wrangler."
"I think I would remember you." was thisflirting? Was he hitting on me? I raised an eyebrow and took in hiswide grin. I didn't often like when I couldn't read a person. Hisbrown eyes seemed to flash, and I was almost certain he was kidding.