Soundtrack of Our Lives: Elastica, The Menace
Editor's note: This is the first of a three-part story.
The computer training room was warm and it was after lunch, so I was having a difficult time trying to stay awake. I kept pinching the skin between my thumb and index finger hoping the pain would keep me from nodding off. This was day two of my new job and I was supposed to be learning how to use the company's Intranet, though I couldn't imagine what was so fancy about it that I needed training. Everyone else in the room looked just as bored, and it was like in movies where the ticking of the wall clock sounds like thunder. We were waiting for the IT guy, who was running late. I imagined he was busy trying to figure out how to write some hack to get his Sims people to have sex or something. I guessed he was fat, his shirt barely able to stay tucked into his greasy jeans, patches of pale, hairy belly poking out from the hem. He probably had a ponytail. He definitely would have glasses. And he would talk to us like we were total idiots.
"Hey." We all turned around and this crazy-tall, indie-rock-looking guy comes to the front of the room. "I'm Elton. I'm sorry I'm late." And he started fussing around with the projector and the monitor in front of him. My brain experienced a disconnect: This was the IT guy? No way! This guy was hip! He was neither greasy nor fat. If anything, brother could have used a sandwich or something. He had messy-on-purpose brown hair and twinkly blue eyes and was basketball-player tall. No glasses. And very, very attractive. I glanced around and noticed that all of a sudden, the other women in the room looked very much awake. Two girls sitting behind me were whispering:
"That's him. That's the guy my friend from marketing was talking about!"
"You're right; he is really cute."
"Yep, but she said he's, like, the office slut or something."
"Yeah, but that doesn't make him less cute …"
I don't remember very much from the class except that at the end, he told us that if we needed any help, his number was XXXX, and all the girls made a big show of scrambling for pens to write it down. Instead, I watched him unhook the cables from the projector and his laptop and noticed that he had a mod bullseye sticker on the cover. I wondered what bands he was into, if he rode a Vespa. He caught me staring at him and smiled, but I quickly slipped out of my chair, got my stuff and left. On the train home that night, I wondered if I'd ever have the chance to talk to him.
As luck would have it, my chance came the very next day. Little Man, my new boss, was a first-time manager and eager to show off his managerial badassed-ness. Now that my training was over, he was chomping at the bit to order me around; when I came in that morning, he practically pounced on me and gave me an assignment. I wasn't able to get started, however, because there was something wrong with my network connection. Little Man came over and started pounding on my keyboard, clicking around, trying to figure out what was wrong. It was quite clear that he didn't know what the fuck he was doing, mumbling something about, "If I had admin access, I could totally fix this." After 10-plus minutes of pounding and clicking, I said, "Maybe you should call the help desk?" He looked pissed and stomped over to his desk to call.
A few minutes later, I heard Little Man say, "Oh great. They fucking sent him." I looked up and saw Elton strolling down our aisle.
"Hey, Little Man. Whose computer is it?"
"It's hers," he pointed to my desk. "Iseult, this is Elton."
"Hi. You were in my class yesterday, right?"
I felt my cheeks heat up, "Yeah. It was … very helpful."
He smiled, "You don't have to lie. I know how stupid that class is—"
"We don't have all day to spend fixing this," Little Man butted in. "How long is it going to take?"
Elton chuckled, "Well, I'm not gonna know until I take a look, now am I?"
Little Man frowned, "Just … Tell me when you're done, okay?"
"How about I don't tell you and then it can be a surprise?"
Little Man glared up at Elton and then walked away. It was only day three of working there, but already I could tell that Little Man was going to be a problem. He was the worst kind of boss: He could never admit when he was wrong or didn't know something, as evidenced by the day's earlier events, and because of his (lack of) height, he was palpably insecure about himself and tried to make up for it by being extremely bossy.
"God, that guy is such a dick," Elton sat in my chair and started tapping at the keys. "I don't envy you."
I sat on the desk and watched as Elton tapped and clicked, "I'm going to install some virus software upgrades. Should only take a few minutes." He typed something then swiveled around in the chair and faced me. "So. What's your story?"
"My story?"
"You know: Where are you from, where did you go to school, how long have you lived here?"
"Oh. Ohio. Ohio State. Just over a year—a year and 10 days, to be exact."
"You like it here?"
"Yeah. It's okay. I still don't really know my way around, though. I have a terrible sense of direction. You?"
"Nah. My sense of direction is pretty good."
"No—your story."
"Oh. Right. Houston. Dropped out. Five years."
"Do you like it here?"
"Yeah. Met some cool people, been to some cool bars. Good music scene."
"Yeah, I've been to some good shows here. Nothing came to Ohio."
He tap-tapped for a second then turned back around. "You have some good CDs," he pointed to the pile on my desk. "Looks like we have similar taste in music."
For some reason, that made me blush. "Oh yeah? What do you like?"
And then we got into an hour-long conversation about music the likes of which I hadn't had since college. Every now and again I looked over the cube wall and saw Little Man watching us and scowling, but I didn't care. It had been ages since I'd met a new guy, what with all the long, slow deaths I'd died with my exes. It was the first time in almost a decade that I'd been officially single. The flirting came easy, to my relief. Elton was opinionated, one of these "Stephin Merritt is a genius and Stereophonics are shit" sort of people. It got kind of old—I'd put up with plenty of overbearing music geeks in college and wasn't looking to go there again—but still, it was refreshing to talk to someone who was on equal musical footing. I liked him.
He held up my copy of Elastica's The Menace. "New Elastica?" He'd said earlier that he liked Wire, so I expected him to say something about Elastica having ripped them off. "That first album was pretty good. What ever happened to them?"
A good sign. "Actually, they're playing tonight at the Park West."
"Oh yeah? Sounds fun," he turned around and tap-tapped. "You going?"
"Yeah … with my friends." Ruby, Pimento, and I were going. I had been looking forward to it for weeks. I mean, back in the day, Justine Frischmann and Damon Albarn were the Britney Spears and Justin Timberlake of the Britpop set. I totally copied Justine's haircut, even. She just oozed cool. She was confident and sexy, smart and talented. It was her band that broke big in the U.S., while both her current boyfriend's (Blur's Albarn) and ex-boyfriend's (Suede's Brett Anderson) bands didn't come close. During the frenzied "girl power" climate of the mid-1990s, this was a Big Deal. And while Britpop's heyday had long since passed, and The Menace wasn't as good as their debut album, I was plenty excited to see Elastica play.
Elton was clicking and typing, his back to me. Had I heard a note of interest in his voice? I was bad at this. I'd never asked out a guy before. I happened to glance over at a coworker who was wearing one of those WWJD bracelets. I smiled to myself, WWJD. What Would Justine Do? She'd fucking ask him out, that's what, "You want to come with? I know there are tickets still available…"
He click-clicked, "Yeah. Sure."
I stood there, heart pounding, "Great. You can—"
Little Man interrupted me, "Elton, seriously, are you done? What the hell is taking so long?"
"Good timing," Elton tap-clicked. "I just finished."
Little Man grabbed my mouse and clicked around, trying to look authoritative, "Everything works, right? I'm not going to have to call you, like, two seconds from now to fix it, am I?"
"Relax. Yes, it works, it works, okay?" Elton turned toward me and rolled his eyes.
"Good," Little Man said. "Now you can finally get started on something."
"Great," I said.
"Well, let me know if you have problems," Elton said to me.
"She will," Little Man stood there with his arms folded.
Elton and I looked at Little Man, hoping he would go away but he didn't. "Okay … so … I'll see you later." Elton strode off down the hall, and I willed the floor to open up and swallow Little Man.
"That guy is a total prick, isn't he?" Little Man was frowning. "I bet he totally hit on you, didn't he? He hits on all the new people."
"Uh, no," I felt kind of squicked out, remembering what I'd overheard about Elton the day before. Was it true? "He was … nice."
He sputtered, "Nice? Yeah, if you're a girl, I guess." He shook his head and leaned his elbows on the cube wall. "If he starts bothering you, let me know. I have friends in HR."
"Sure. Thanks."
The Little Man gave me my assignment and waddled away on his stubby legs.
I sat back down at my desk and the phone rang. It was Elton. "Sorry about that. Little Man was freaking me out."
"Me, too. He's kind of weird."
"And a dick."
"Yeah. Well. Thanks for taking all that time to fix my computer. It must have been jacked."
He laughed, "I fixed it the first two minutes I was up there."
"Well what were doing the rest of the time? You were up here forever."
"I wanted to keep talking to you."
"Oh," my face was hot.
"Anyway, what time tonight?"
"At the Park West, around 7:30?"
"Great. Wait. What are you doing for dinner?"
"Nothing."
"Let's leave here around 5:30 and eat."
"Okay."
"Meet me at the front desk?"
"Okay."
"Later."
"Bye."
I turned and stared at my computer. Dinner. Had this turned into a date? It had been so long since I'd been on a date, I didn't know. I thought it best to not overthink it, but it was getting hard to concentrate on work and Little Man kept coming over to check on me. The day couldn't go by any slower. Finally, at 5:28 I couldn't take it any longer, and I grabbed my stuff and bolted for the elevator. The Little Man said, "Wait! Did you get that copy done?" but I suddenly felt brazen and pretended not to hear. Elton was already in the lobby when I got there. "Let's get the hell out of here," he grabbed my hand and we ran for the train.
Elastica, The Menace
Purchased at Tower Records, Clark Street, Chicago
Fall 2000
The computer training room was warm and it was after lunch, so I was having a difficult time trying to stay awake. I kept pinching the skin between my thumb and index finger hoping the pain would keep me from nodding off. This was day two of my new job and I was supposed to be learning how to use the company's Intranet, though I couldn't imagine what was so fancy about it that I needed training. Everyone else in the room looked just as bored, and it was like in movies where the ticking of the wall clock sounds like thunder. We were waiting for the IT guy, who was running late. I imagined he was busy trying to figure out how to write some hack to get his Sims people to have sex or something. I guessed he was fat, his shirt barely able to stay tucked into his greasy jeans, patches of pale, hairy belly poking out from the hem. He probably had a ponytail. He definitely would have glasses. And he would talk to us like we were total idiots.
"Hey." We all turned around and this crazy-tall, indie-rock-looking guy comes to the front of the room. "I'm Elton. I'm sorry I'm late." And he started fussing around with the projector and the monitor in front of him. My brain experienced a disconnect: This was the IT guy? No way! This guy was hip! He was neither greasy nor fat. If anything, brother could have used a sandwich or something. He had messy-on-purpose brown hair and twinkly blue eyes and was basketball-player tall. No glasses. And very, very attractive. I glanced around and noticed that all of a sudden, the other women in the room looked very much awake. Two girls sitting behind me were whispering:
"That's him. That's the guy my friend from marketing was talking about!"
"You're right; he is really cute."
"Yep, but she said he's, like, the office slut or something."
"Yeah, but that doesn't make him less cute …"
I don't remember very much from the class except that at the end, he told us that if we needed any help, his number was XXXX, and all the girls made a big show of scrambling for pens to write it down. Instead, I watched him unhook the cables from the projector and his laptop and noticed that he had a mod bullseye sticker on the cover. I wondered what bands he was into, if he rode a Vespa. He caught me staring at him and smiled, but I quickly slipped out of my chair, got my stuff and left. On the train home that night, I wondered if I'd ever have the chance to talk to him.
As luck would have it, my chance came the very next day. Little Man, my new boss, was a first-time manager and eager to show off his managerial badassed-ness. Now that my training was over, he was chomping at the bit to order me around; when I came in that morning, he practically pounced on me and gave me an assignment. I wasn't able to get started, however, because there was something wrong with my network connection. Little Man came over and started pounding on my keyboard, clicking around, trying to figure out what was wrong. It was quite clear that he didn't know what the fuck he was doing, mumbling something about, "If I had admin access, I could totally fix this." After 10-plus minutes of pounding and clicking, I said, "Maybe you should call the help desk?" He looked pissed and stomped over to his desk to call.
A few minutes later, I heard Little Man say, "Oh great. They fucking sent him." I looked up and saw Elton strolling down our aisle.
"Hey, Little Man. Whose computer is it?"
"It's hers," he pointed to my desk. "Iseult, this is Elton."
"Hi. You were in my class yesterday, right?"
I felt my cheeks heat up, "Yeah. It was … very helpful."
He smiled, "You don't have to lie. I know how stupid that class is—"
"We don't have all day to spend fixing this," Little Man butted in. "How long is it going to take?"
Elton chuckled, "Well, I'm not gonna know until I take a look, now am I?"
Little Man frowned, "Just … Tell me when you're done, okay?"
"How about I don't tell you and then it can be a surprise?"
Little Man glared up at Elton and then walked away. It was only day three of working there, but already I could tell that Little Man was going to be a problem. He was the worst kind of boss: He could never admit when he was wrong or didn't know something, as evidenced by the day's earlier events, and because of his (lack of) height, he was palpably insecure about himself and tried to make up for it by being extremely bossy.
"God, that guy is such a dick," Elton sat in my chair and started tapping at the keys. "I don't envy you."
I sat on the desk and watched as Elton tapped and clicked, "I'm going to install some virus software upgrades. Should only take a few minutes." He typed something then swiveled around in the chair and faced me. "So. What's your story?"
"My story?"
"You know: Where are you from, where did you go to school, how long have you lived here?"
"Oh. Ohio. Ohio State. Just over a year—a year and 10 days, to be exact."
"You like it here?"
"Yeah. It's okay. I still don't really know my way around, though. I have a terrible sense of direction. You?"
"Nah. My sense of direction is pretty good."
"No—your story."
"Oh. Right. Houston. Dropped out. Five years."
"Do you like it here?"
"Yeah. Met some cool people, been to some cool bars. Good music scene."
"Yeah, I've been to some good shows here. Nothing came to Ohio."
He tap-tapped for a second then turned back around. "You have some good CDs," he pointed to the pile on my desk. "Looks like we have similar taste in music."
For some reason, that made me blush. "Oh yeah? What do you like?"
And then we got into an hour-long conversation about music the likes of which I hadn't had since college. Every now and again I looked over the cube wall and saw Little Man watching us and scowling, but I didn't care. It had been ages since I'd met a new guy, what with all the long, slow deaths I'd died with my exes. It was the first time in almost a decade that I'd been officially single. The flirting came easy, to my relief. Elton was opinionated, one of these "Stephin Merritt is a genius and Stereophonics are shit" sort of people. It got kind of old—I'd put up with plenty of overbearing music geeks in college and wasn't looking to go there again—but still, it was refreshing to talk to someone who was on equal musical footing. I liked him.
He held up my copy of Elastica's The Menace. "New Elastica?" He'd said earlier that he liked Wire, so I expected him to say something about Elastica having ripped them off. "That first album was pretty good. What ever happened to them?"
A good sign. "Actually, they're playing tonight at the Park West."
"Oh yeah? Sounds fun," he turned around and tap-tapped. "You going?"
"Yeah … with my friends." Ruby, Pimento, and I were going. I had been looking forward to it for weeks. I mean, back in the day, Justine Frischmann and Damon Albarn were the Britney Spears and Justin Timberlake of the Britpop set. I totally copied Justine's haircut, even. She just oozed cool. She was confident and sexy, smart and talented. It was her band that broke big in the U.S., while both her current boyfriend's (Blur's Albarn) and ex-boyfriend's (Suede's Brett Anderson) bands didn't come close. During the frenzied "girl power" climate of the mid-1990s, this was a Big Deal. And while Britpop's heyday had long since passed, and The Menace wasn't as good as their debut album, I was plenty excited to see Elastica play.
Elton was clicking and typing, his back to me. Had I heard a note of interest in his voice? I was bad at this. I'd never asked out a guy before. I happened to glance over at a coworker who was wearing one of those WWJD bracelets. I smiled to myself, WWJD. What Would Justine Do? She'd fucking ask him out, that's what, "You want to come with? I know there are tickets still available…"
He click-clicked, "Yeah. Sure."
I stood there, heart pounding, "Great. You can—"
Little Man interrupted me, "Elton, seriously, are you done? What the hell is taking so long?"
"Good timing," Elton tap-clicked. "I just finished."
Little Man grabbed my mouse and clicked around, trying to look authoritative, "Everything works, right? I'm not going to have to call you, like, two seconds from now to fix it, am I?"
"Relax. Yes, it works, it works, okay?" Elton turned toward me and rolled his eyes.
"Good," Little Man said. "Now you can finally get started on something."
"Great," I said.
"Well, let me know if you have problems," Elton said to me.
"She will," Little Man stood there with his arms folded.
Elton and I looked at Little Man, hoping he would go away but he didn't. "Okay … so … I'll see you later." Elton strode off down the hall, and I willed the floor to open up and swallow Little Man.
"That guy is a total prick, isn't he?" Little Man was frowning. "I bet he totally hit on you, didn't he? He hits on all the new people."
"Uh, no," I felt kind of squicked out, remembering what I'd overheard about Elton the day before. Was it true? "He was … nice."
He sputtered, "Nice? Yeah, if you're a girl, I guess." He shook his head and leaned his elbows on the cube wall. "If he starts bothering you, let me know. I have friends in HR."
"Sure. Thanks."
The Little Man gave me my assignment and waddled away on his stubby legs.
I sat back down at my desk and the phone rang. It was Elton. "Sorry about that. Little Man was freaking me out."
"Me, too. He's kind of weird."
"And a dick."
"Yeah. Well. Thanks for taking all that time to fix my computer. It must have been jacked."
He laughed, "I fixed it the first two minutes I was up there."
"Well what were doing the rest of the time? You were up here forever."
"I wanted to keep talking to you."
"Oh," my face was hot.
"Anyway, what time tonight?"
"At the Park West, around 7:30?"
"Great. Wait. What are you doing for dinner?"
"Nothing."
"Let's leave here around 5:30 and eat."
"Okay."
"Meet me at the front desk?"
"Okay."
"Later."
"Bye."
I turned and stared at my computer. Dinner. Had this turned into a date? It had been so long since I'd been on a date, I didn't know. I thought it best to not overthink it, but it was getting hard to concentrate on work and Little Man kept coming over to check on me. The day couldn't go by any slower. Finally, at 5:28 I couldn't take it any longer, and I grabbed my stuff and bolted for the elevator. The Little Man said, "Wait! Did you get that copy done?" but I suddenly felt brazen and pretended not to hear. Elton was already in the lobby when I got there. "Let's get the hell out of here," he grabbed my hand and we ran for the train.
Elastica, The Menace
Purchased at Tower Records, Clark Street, Chicago
Fall 2000
posted by Iseult at 5:20 PM
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