I have the unfortunate habit, when I’m distracted by work, of engaging in conversations without being aware of what’s being said. A few years ago I was working on site with a client in Tempe. I had use of a private office and a keyboard, mouse, and screen to which I could attach my laptop. But I prefer the laptop mouse and keyboard in most cases, so I would connect only the screen, as a secondary display, to make use of on occasion. Under most circumstances, the second screen was empty, aside from the background picture my computer displays, which is randomly selected from a collection of family photos I’ve set aside for the purpose.
On this day, the picture shown prominently beside me while I worked was an overexposed mistake of a photograph I took while playing around with the settings on my wife’s camera.
Isabel at eight years old sitting on the trampoline.
This is my child, Isabel when they were about eight. Despite its technical failings, I thought the picture looked neat. I love Isabel’s curious, averted look (they’re fiddling with a different camera below the crop), and the strange way the grid pattern of the block wall came through.
For the client, I was working on a complicated project to reproduce paper engineering documents in a digital form. These documents were “controlled,” meaning each was approved by an engineer any time a change was made, and sometimes audited by the FAA. Since I don’t know the first thing about fixing airplanes, I worked closely with a man named Tony, who was responsible for the engineering department at this company.
One day Tony came into my office to bring me some documents he had marked with corrections. He looked at the picture shining 24 inches diagonal on my desk and said, “You a Dakota Fanning fan?” In case you don’t know, Dakota Fanning is a young female actor who was, at the time, probably 13 years old. She doesn’t look much like Isabel, but I suppose if you over-expose a picture enough…
Unfortunately, I was completely focused on a programming problem and I did what I often do, and what generally gets me into trouble. I conversed agreeably and without thought. “Sure.” I said. “You?” Some part of my brain was wondering why Tony was asking me about Dakota Fanning. It was cross referencing our past conversations looking for some explanation. It was suggesting, probably urgently, that I pay more attention to the conversation and figure out what I was agreeing to. But I just kept working.
Tony left the papers, and I thanked him. He returned to his office. And then, some time later, after I had finished whatever I was doing, I finally internalized the conversation that had passed between us. I looked at the screen beside me and put the pieces together.
Tony, a man I respected, a man whose opinion mattered to me, now believed that I, a 30 year old man, would keep a photograph of a pretty 13 year old celebrity on my screen. He probably imagined my office at home with magazine cutouts of Dakota Fanning pinned all over the walls. He presumed I spent my weekends rewatching Charlotte’s Web and War of the Worlds (two movies I’ve never seen), all the while gazing dreamily at a child.
I threw up a little bit in my mouth.
I tried to find him, but he wasn’t in his cubicle. By the time I saw him next (probably a week later) it seemed too awkward to bring up again, so I let it slide. That’s why I know, to this day, that someone out there thinks I’m a skeeze. I wish I had set the record straight.