the peaceful warrior

a gentleman would walk but never run, just like this new guy who started working the other day. he wears white everyday, buttoned up all the way except for the neck, starched collars with a couple of hair strings peeping out from below his also white t-shirt underneath.

he's very proper, always says hi, nods if you catch his eyes on the way to the men's room, or the director's office in the corner. he speaks very slowly, but not too slow, just very clear. he's got a low voice, thick and deep and easily audible, he never raises it. he spews as few words as possible to convey his message, as if he pays sales tax on every single one. he only talks business, with the most subtle smile on his face.

in his small nylon lunch box he carries fruits for breakfast and a sandwich and a tomato for his lunch. he takes his lunch in private, noone ever sees him eating. you just know he's just had lunch if you catch him rinsing off his tupperware in the kitchen. he pops a soda in the afternoon, same time, same can. noone knows if he finishes, he rarely takes a sip. nevertheless, you'd find his can in the recycling bin at the end of the day, everyday.

there was a bee in the office today. v announced its presence with a short cry from her cubicle. then it bugged d and s, and then it was on my monitor and i waved it away. then i heard a loudest slap from the next aisle. i turned around to catch the new guy whirling like a mad man in the middle of the his cubicle, slamming his big white hands together every which way, panting nonstop. he suddenly froze with his hands clammed supposedly on the insect, crunched them together for a while, and dropped the remainder on the carpet and stumped on it with a firm and loud thud.

he straightened his collar, nodded at a few of us staring at him, and sat down at his cubicle, completely in peace with the world. we heard him slurp his soda today, i think he finished it too.