I’m sure you’re thinking, “Good grief! It’s about time Ashley actually had to work at the engineering firm instead of twiddle her thumbs and play Solitaire and Hearts.”
Sheesh! Why the hostility?
Just kidding.
So two days ago, I was actually working at work. Crazy, I know. I was sitting in my cubicle editing some notes about circuitry, blah blah blah (I say blah blah blah because I didn’t understand what I was typing. I just follow instructions), when all of the sudden, one of the mechanical engineers walked toward my cubicle and then stopped.
I kept working, keeping up my busy as a bee persona.
“Ashley-girl! What’s new?”
I never know how to answer that question. It’s really hard to make my life sound interesting. I go to evil grad school, I attempt horrendous homework, I barely pass my classes, I grab takeout on the way to the engineering firm where I typically work on homework and the occasional position of a light switch for some building, I pick up my paycheck, I go home, I go to sleep, I wake up, and wait for it…I repeat.
So I finally said, “Same old, same old; work and school.”
“Nothing else? Nothing fun?”
Gee, rub it in. Thanks a lot.
This particular engineer is always nice to me, though, so I just said: “Nope, not really. I may have flunked a test today.”
“So you’re still mathematizing?”
I laughed, “Yes, I’m still trying to mathematize.”
“Mathematize sounds kinda bad. Like cancer. Cancer metastasizes. Not good.”
“Well now that you mention it, that doesn’t sound good at all.”
What else was I supposed to say? I mean, really. How would you have responded to that metastasizing business? I was trying to think about where I should edit text on the screen when I completely froze.
“Why did you freeze?” you ask.
I’ll tell you.
As I resumed my work, immediately following the metastasization business, “So, you getting married yet?”
I laughed.
So he started laughing.
I said, “No!”
“Why not?”
“Well, if the guy would show up, I probably would marry him. I don’t see him anywhere,” I said motioning my arms toward the surrounding cubicles.
“Six months.”
He lost me.
“What?”
“I give it six months.”
…
“Six months ‘til what?”
“You’ll be married in six months.”
I laughed, “What?!”
“Six months.”
“Don’t you think that’s a little fast considering the fact that I’m not even dating anyone right now?”
“Well, you’ll be engaged.”
I looked at him skeptically.
“You’ll know him. You’ll be dating him.”
I stared at him.
“You’ve got until Christmas.”
“Well, I would hate to be your biggest disappointment, but I really don’t date much.”
“Well that’s because you’ve raised a high bar.”
I gave up on working on the electrical plans at this point.
“I have high standards, yes.”
“Well, just lower your standards.”
I must’ve been giving him a look, because he quickly said, “Well, don’t lower your marrying standards, just your dating standards.”
“HAHAHAHA!” Apparently the computer IT guy down the hall had overheard the conversation. “Duuuude, your advice is hilarious! Just lower your dating standards! HA!”
The computer guy’s a character. He’s funny. Good guy. Plus, he laughs at my jokes and makes my laptop connect to the internet, which makes him like a modern-day hero.
I decided this conversation had gone a little too far. I didn’t want seven guys standing around my cubicle giving me advice on romance. It’s happened. Did I mention we have a lot of free time?
Back to the conversation: “Why would I lower my dating standards? I don’t want to date someone that I have no desire to end up with. That’s just a waste of time.”
“Six months.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. Six Months.”
“Dang, Ashley. He’s giving you a deadline.” That was computer guy again.
“I have a deadline?”
“Yes. Christmas.” That was the engineer talking again.
“Oh dear.”
“It’ll happen. College is conducive to marriage.”
“Huh?”
“College. It’s massive crowds of people at a pivotal age combined with lots of hormones. It’s a highly probable place to meet a significant other.”
I may be paraphrasing that part. It was very scientific and engineering-sounding.
“I’m already done with college. I’m in grad school. The college dating pool didn’t work out for me.”
“Six months.”
“Alright. Six months.”
“Talk to you later, Ashley-girl.”
And then he walked away.
Oh right, I thought, I should probably finish my work for the day.
He didn’t give me a deadline for the electrical plans.
About thirty minutes later, I clocked out. As I walked toward the door, caddy-corner cubicle guy said: “Bye Ashley! Go find your husband tonight!”
Very funny.
I told you. This is how math proofs go. Gibberish, gibberish, gibberish, symbols, letters turned every which way so that my homework looks like Alphabet Soup with some Greek letters thrown in, too. Frequently, my professors skip steps, but if I skip them, then they act like this guy: "Be more explicit in step two."
Why do I have to be more explicit in step two? I believe in miracles. Have a little faith, people! I mean, really! The buildings are still standing up, so I think the math must be pretty accurate. Do I really need to prove it again? 
