The New Girl is staring at you.
Up until a few moments ago you’d been slurping up today’s lunch, also known as last night’s sukiyaki with a quarter bottle of Louisiana Habanero Hot Sauce poured into it. You always eat on the clock around 11:30; that way, you can spend the whole lunch hour without squandering your time doing anything else. Like eating lunch.
The New Girl is still staring at you.
The office door had opened with that wretched beep-beep-beep sound it makes and in had barreled Effeminate Lone Ranger, decked out in the suit and tie that has been his outfit of choice since his recent promotion. Closely in tow had been The New Girl, dressed in conservative business attire of a conservative gray hue. Effeminate Lone Ranger had stood at the front of the room and sought everyone’s attention. Apparently he has a cold — he’s wearing one of those silly surgical masks that people here wear whenever they’ve gotten sick. Perhaps to be better heard, however, he has lowered the mask around his chin, thereby defeating the whole goddamn purpose.
“Everyone, excuse me!” Effeminate Lone Ranger had begun in that misguidedly pompous voice of his. “I’d like to introduce The New Girl.”
Ah. Introduction time.
Entering a Japanese company is, frankly, a pain in the ass. Not only does the interview process take two to three months and involve several people you’ll probably never see again, once you’ve finally entered the company you’ll be paraded around to each division, where you’ll be given the same damn introduction and required to repeatedly state your name and previous employment, as well as some obligatory modesty about how you know so little and are bound to be a bother to everyone.
Now, in the present, The New Girl is giving her own spiel.
“Hello, I’m The New Girl. My previous job entailed developer-side relations, and I’ll be working on that here as well. I’m still learning the ropes, so I hope I won’t be too much of a bother on you all. Thank you.”
With that, she concludes her introduction.
And gives you one Good. Long. Stare.
If she’s doing the introduction thing down here, it would mean she’s already done so upstairs. Meaning she would’ve seen Lanky Tom, your co-worker and fellow white devil. She should’ve been sufficiently broken in, as it were, in the foreigner department. So what’s with the stare?
Was it the double-punch, the unexpected whitey+whitey combo that took her so far aback that she just had to gawk at you?
Or maybe being hung over and unshaven just makes you look that much hotter.