Vacant Seat

Frustrated, Sam entered the executive conference room at a brisk pace. His body language advertised an emotional state that he fought to mask with a verbal tone of professional politeness. The food line was short and Sam used the few minutes of slack time to unwind from the “Joodeth encounter.”

From the wide selection of food, he could tell he was early. Sam gathered a small plate of various foods – selecting just enough to be polite. At the end of the food line, he found a seat next to the rickety drink table, picked up a cup and placed it on the empty seat next to him. The buffet line had grown from the few patrons to hundreds. The chatter noise was slightly above normal has various conversations passed his earshot.

“Snider is too old to be playing – he averaged four points per game.” he caught part of a conversation.
“I'm about an hour behind my soft schedule.” One worker explained to his manager.
“Too many people are missing the training, if this trend continues...” Sam continued to relax and sat casually eavesdropping on parts of the conversations as people passed before him with various plates of food and drink.

“I just can't believe that Gucci would do such a thing! None of my wardrobe matches this years line. I am so insulted!” The tension in Sam's neck increased. To him, the voice – that eternally irritating voice which reminded him of sharp, hardened fingernails dragging slowly across an old style chalk board. Recent dealings with Joodeth left him frustrated, angry and very unfocused. He realized too late that next to him remained one of the few vacant seats in the room. A fact that Joodeth recognized. She always enjoyed continuing a conversation even if that conversation began a month ago. Sam held his breath. Would she continue complaining about the bankrupt merchant whom she would endlessly haunt for a piece of junk jewelry or badger him for a copy of the latest software which she illegally wanted.. Whatever her complaint, - her issue, he would rather experience a double prostate exam.

His heart pounded through his chest as she moved towards the seat. He winced when the air in his lungs suddenly thinned. Gasping, he drew in a deep breath and cast his eyes skyward as if seeking divine intervention. She moved closer, he could sense her by the way her shoes crushed the carpet. He could only guess the comments about the terrible state of the food. Not enough salt or that the ice was never too cold. He was preparing himself for it all. Briefly closing his eyes – it appeared to others as if it was a slow blink. He moved his lips in a repetitive prayer.

“Please don't sit here, Please don't sit here, Lord, PLEASE don't let her sit here!”

She stepped closer. He barely flinched when he felt a warm body occupy the chair next to him. Exhaling then inhaling, he expected the scent of an exotic perfume – the kind found free with a car wash.

“I should be doing that myself” a smoky old voice whispered. He opened his eyes and noticed that a man twice his senior sipping on soup. “Might not do any good for me when I face the Master, but it would not hurt if I ask for a few kind words.” The old man smiled.

“Yeah.” Was his reply as he watched Joodeth obtaining a cup and turning away. Relieved and suddenly interested in religion He quoted from scripture and continued eating in reverence and very relieved that Joodeth had taken a seat at the far end of the room. A place where he could barely hear her complaining about the tire streaks her car left on her driveway. The poor gent next to her had suddenly frowned and looked as if he would be happier giving birth.

Sam made eye contact with the man and nodded. He sympathized with the man and the sadness in he eyes matched Sam's relief. Inwardly and silently, he wished the man luck - as the poor gent was about to hear to receive a full dose of Joodeth and hopefully excuse himself before she began talking about the life and times of a pole dancer, who reformed and turned reality television star.

Sam wondered how much he could endure.