An Ernest Walk #2
“Are you serious?”
I nod. “Jane was kicking Carmen’s packages across the hall and accusing him of stealing panties, and Carmen asked Jane if
he could borrow her cat’s turds so he could literally box them up. And then with Norman, I don’t know where to star—”
I’m about to go into what went down at Norm’s but stop myself as soon as I turn to face Sami. The easygoing smile has fallen from his face, and it’s like the air has somehow flattened.
“Yeah, that’s tough.” His jaw tightens as he stares back toward the diner. Something I’ve said has broken a string I didn’t
realize was there until now. “That sounds like they might have stuff going on we don’t know about then, eh?”
“Maybe . . .” I pretend to concede, although I definitely don’t see it that way. “How are you always so good with people?
Don’t you ever get annoyed?”
Sami shrugs. “It kind of comes with the territory of being the diner guy, I guess. People come in for coffee in the morning,
half awake, grumpy, whatever. You get five minutes with them, tops. No idea where they’re from or where they’re heading. Least
I can do is remember how they like their coffee, maybe make things a little less crap for them.”
The sincerity in his expression can’t be faked. He’s really a good person. And I am . . . I don’t know.
“Hey, Sami, can I ask some advice?”
He gives my face a once-over. “Of course.”
“So, as you can probably imagine, I’ve had a bit of a tough time communicating with the residents. I’m no you.” I smile stiffly. “And I need to get the rest of the electrical inspections done, but most people ignored my Slack request
to let the inspector in.”
A wince shows up for a flash before he quells it. “I heard about the Slack . . .”
My jaw drops. “People complained?”
“I wouldn’t go that far. But one or two people mentioned it.” He rubs the back of his head. “I think people are used to Irene’s
chattiness when she wants something, so maybe it’s a little impersonal?”
I nod like this isn’t the most ridiculous thing. Sami’s eyes seem to pick up on what I’m thinking and soften. “Don’t worry,
I’m sure people will get used to it eventually.”
“Only these inspections, they’re important. I have the electrician returning June eighth and if they aren’t all completed then, the building could be screwed.”
“They’re that important, eh?”
I nod. Of course, making sure the building is up to code is important, but more pressing: Lana needs a cleared electrical
report because without it I guess it’s pretty much impossible to sell the place. I nudge Sami’s arm playfully. “Don’t suppose
we can fast-forward things if you tell everyone that I’m a wonderful person and they should listen to my instructions?”
“Hmm, I mean, I could try.” He nudges me back and a warm buzz pulls through me. His gaze drifts through the front-door window
toward the lobby. “But I think it would be better if they see that for themselves. Hey, what if we do something, like, a mixer?”
His eyes are too bright for the words that just came out of his mouth. “Oh! That’s an interesting . . . approach.” I try and fail to keep the cringe out of my tone. I genuinely don’t know if these people can even handle anything like
a mixer. Not after what I’ve seen of their interactions with one another and the world at large.
Sami must pick up on my skepticism because he continues, voice bolstered, “No, seriously, this could be great! We could tell
everyone it’s a meet and greet for you and welcome them to share any ideas or issues with the building.”
Okay, that sounds somehow worse than a mixer. Giving those people a pedestal to complain means I’ll be hearing about the geese feedings and package thefts
for hours on end. “Yeah, maybe. Although I’m not sure I’d be able to take on new suggestions when I’m having trouble getting even smaller things done as it stands.”
He shakes his head. “So many people vent to me over their eggs without expecting me to solve their problems. Thing is, they
just want to be heard.” He tilts his head thoughtfully. “They need to feel that you care. That’s how you’ll get their trust.”
He has a point. As it stands, they pretty much ignore me, but I’ve been ignoring them for years. “Okay, yeah, maybe that could actually help.”
His smile creases the corners of his eyes. “I can even promote it at the diner. I’ll be your hype man, tell them all the great
things about you.” I kind of want to ask him what he means, but there’s something in the way his eyes sparkle that makes me
believe he has something to say.
“Yeah, that would be really great.” I nod. “I’ll send out a message about the mixer tonight.”
I guess I can attend one shitty get-together if it means getting things done.
“Of course.” He grins. “Anything for someone who actually cares about these old buildings.”
His words hit me like a splash of cold water. I try not to let my eyes shift as I hand him back Ernest’s leash and wave.
I can attend one shit party to charm a crowd that’ll probably hate me again in a few weeks. I’ve faked my way through enough
corporate networking events to keep a straight face.
What’s the worst that could happen?