Going to Get What You Deserve

My charming assistant, a dear polyglot from Athens - the original Athens, and please don't ask, "Georgia?" - trained for weeks and out of the blue received both an offer from her previous employers in Stuttgart and another from the Athens Conservatory. Of course, it's not really called "the Athens Conservatory" but I don't really know what it's called because I don't speak Greek. Anyway, a bolt from the blue cannot be fought with petty jealousy - no, this requires industrial-strength jealousy, and I'm just the gal to barely conceal it.

Iona: I'm so sorry! We worked so hard on the purchase orders!
Tata: That's okay, darling! Here, have some microwave popcorn and my best wishes.
Iona: I hate to leave you! You've been so good to me!
Tata: Darling, as much as I'd love to go to Athens with you - or frankly, without you - I understand why you have to go back to the Conservatory and take that last chance on a professional music career.
Iona: I can't believe you're so sweet about this!
Tata: Listen, you don't have time to worry about me. The future is rushing up to meet you. Shoo! Shoo! Hurry!
Iona: I'll never forget you!
Tata: That's not a very interesting future. Forget me as soon as you leave the city limits. Happy life! Goodbye, sweetheart!
Iona: I just remembered I don't have a microwave here or in Greece.
Tata: I trust your ability to drive up Route 1, break into a convenience store and microwave popcorn but you'll need a getaway driver and at least one meat fork...
Iona: I'll find a way!
Tata: Kiss kiss!

I've had shorter breakups. Half an hour later, John emails from twenty-five uninterrupted feet away.

John: What did you do this time? You train your student and just when she could be of assistance you frighten them off.
Tata: Dahhhhhhhhhlink, as with some things and all people, trying to hold them close after they're determined to go only results in ill-feeling and restraining orders.
John: Oh yeah? What happened to "I'm evil, I get what I want, I made you up and if you don't do my bidding I'll imagine you back to eighth grade detention."
Tata: Since you're imaginary, it'll be seventh grade health class. Bon appetit!

Yes, in real life, I stand up in the middle of staff meetings, point at John and yell at my co-workers, "Don't answer him! He's not a real person! You're only encouraging that evil thing!" The first few times, people exhanged glances and mouthed words at each other. After that, they started ignoring him on command. If I can get the university to direct deposit his paychecks into my account I will feel I've accomplished something in life.

And speaking of Me, Ned phoned Me last week about the recording debate. Ned and I lived together for an unspecified number of years and a player to be named later.

Ned: So what did you decide to do?
Tata: I decided when Sean can throw his wife and two adorable daughters out for a few hours we'll record. I haven't seen anything about rights, so once it's recorded we'll take it from there.
Ned: Sounds cautious. I want you to remember something. That piece is really hard on you. I've seen what it takes out of you to do it. You think of it as your masterpiece -
Tata: My hit.
Ned: - but the real masterpiece is the life you constructed. Odds were against it. You should be very proud.
Tata: Thank you. That was right nice of you to say.
Ned: Repay me in cheeseburgers.

That is an excellent trade.