labels, pt. 2

During these mandatory introductions, everyone tries their best to be reserved, but acts out in their anxiety like a caricature of their self. An Asian woman lists her qualifications first, then adds as an afterthought, "Oh, and my name is Tara. Did I say that?" She takes copious notes as we go around the circle. An athletic-looking black mechanic introduces himself as Preston, cracks a few jokes, mostly about being black, in order to defuse the tension. A nervous wreck of a kid, maybe seventeen or eighteen, clutches a wrench through all the introductions to still his hands, then drops it to the floor when his turn comes around and he forgets he's holding it. Before the kid can stutter out his name, Pres tells him, "Take your time, Sparky, none of us has anything better to do." At that point, the kid's too embarrassed to say anything, but we all know what to call him. Ed, the garage manager, who doesn't seem too interested in the human side of his business, calls out impatiently. "Can we get this crap over with? We've got a Sparky, who's next?" A cute, young blonde with apparently nothing to offer except clear skin speaks up. She tells us her name's Kailey, and she just graduated from UCLA, confirming that there's nothing remarkable or interesting about her. Even so, I prepare myself to spend a lot of time hearing about how she feels. "I'm Dan," I tell them, exhaling hard to express my impatience with the exercise. "I fix cars."

As soon as everyone realizes I'm done talking, Ed tells us to get to work. Tara rushes after him to ask a question, and Kailey hurries into the bathroom. Preston cracks his knuckles, then his neck, and gets to his feet. While I gather up my things and wipe my perfectly clean hands on a filthy-looking rag, the mousy kid is staring at me and wringing his hands around the wrists. I'm rubbing my stubbly throat. "You got a problem?" I ask him. He gets alarmed and runs away, looking back once long enough to almost trip over a jack on the garage floor. I laugh once, gruffly, as I'm turning back around, but almost have a collision of my own with a tan, dark-haired woman standing right behind me. I don't know how long she's been there, but I can tell she's sizing me up, as though for a fight; she's almost my height, but not quite. Tough-looking, snarling as long as I look at her. She already has a uniform on, tight over her whole body, but it's not like the one hanging in my locker. The grimace turns briefly to a smile, and then she ducks under the half-closed garage door and disappears.

I'm going to have sex with her.
In the interest of full disclosure, I'm probably going to have sex with all of them.

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These are some of the songs we've been hearing around the garage today - check 'em out on iTunes!
Surfer Blood - Floating Vibes (Kanine)
Thao + The Get Down Stay Down - Body (Kill Rock Stars)
Beach House - Norway (Sub Pop)
Frightened Rabbit - Nothing Like You (FatCat)
Motel Motel - Coffee (Rebel Group)