“I see you’re left-handed.” Ralph looked at Craig a little confused. Craig continued, “you, you, put your car keys in your left pocket.” He hesitated for a second. “I notice these things especially because I’m left-handed as well,” and without saying another word, he reached into his left pocket and pulled out his keys, “see,” he proudly waved the keys in front of Ralph, who happened to be standing in a small crowd in the foyer of their office building busily discussing their relevant team scores from the weekend.

It was obvious by the reactions of the other men and women in the group that Craig wasn’t particularly liked and especially his proclamation. But Craig was either ambivalent to their glares or didn’t notice them. After a few seconds of dangling his keys in front of the little crowd, Ralph reached into his pocket took out his keys dangled them for a second and then put them into the right-hand pocket of his pants, and about a second later they crashed onto the floor.

Everyone stood in stunned silence, not quite sure what had happened. Or if they were sure, they didn’t want to admit it. “I have a large hole in my right pocket,” explained Ralph stooping down to pick up his keys with his right hand. “See,” he continued, “right hand, now into my left hand and into my left pocket, voila and there they will remain. No Craig, I’m not left-handed. I’m right-handed. I was born right-handed and thanks for pointing out to the crowd that I have a hole in my pant pocket and thanks for embarrassing me.”

Craig took a step backwards to see if anyone was watching him and then another and another until he was finally gone. Once he was nowhere to be seen, Bill another one in the little circle laughed and said, “don’t worry about him. He’s everyone’s least favourite person in the company. He has to be right about everything. Even when he’s wrong, he’ll never admit it, but instead he’ll blame everyone else.”

“He’s always on the losing side of a losing side in any argument and certainly on the losing side of history!” Rita had her moment of trying to inject some more lunacy into the conversation now that Craig had left. When she realised it hadn’t gone over well judging by the puzzled looks on everyone’s faces, she waved and departed as well. “Don’t worry about Rita,” replied Bill, “she’s harmless, unlike Craig.”

Ralph hadn’t been with the company long, only a matter of a couple of weeks and was still trying to make friends and feeling his way around the politics of the company. He felt that now he was somewhat liked, he decided to continue asking some probing questions. “Why isn’t Craig fired? Is he that good at his job that they overlook his idiocy?”

“No,” replied the little ring of seven people, “and not only is he not good at his job, he’s dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” asked Ralph a little confused, “why dangerous?”

“He’s Mr Markham’s son.”

“I see,” replied Ralph still a little confused, “and Mr Markham is?”

“The guy who signs your pay checks.” Ralph gulped.

“You mean he’s the owner’s son.”

“That’s exactly what I mean!” Bill patted Ralph on the back. “You’ll find out soon how to put up with him. I never understood how his mother or his wife for that matter put up with him.”

“He’s married?” Ralph was stunned. He thought about Craig for a second and didn’t think there was a single woman he knew who would date him, let alone marry him. “Did she marry him for the money?” Which was the only reason Ralph could understand, there was a collective shaking of the heads.

“No not at all. She comes from a very wealthy family. Even we have been trying to figure that one out.”

“Wait till you meet Jamie Svendsen,” offered Bill.

“Is she Swedish?”

“No,” replied Bill, “I’ve no idea where she got that name from. Wait till you see her.”

“Is she beautiful?”

“Extremely!”

“Does she come to the company to take her hubby out to lunch and cut up his food for him?”

Again, there was a collective shaking of the heads. Ralph glanced at his watch and then realised he was running late. “I’ve got to go,” he replied anxiously, “I have to put the finishing touches on a presentation I have to give to the HR department regarding who they need to hire for a job in my department.”

“Jenny Svendsen,” replied Bill with a smile. “Cheerio, have a wonderful day. Let’s meet at the pub later and catch up.” Everyone agreed and the little group dispersed towards one of the several elevators which littered the ground floor. Ralph got into his and was about to push the button to his floor when a very beautiful dark-skinned lady walked into the lift. “5 please,” she asked quietly and thanked Ralph for holding the lift for her.

“Same floor as me,” he replied.

“Yes,” she replied again quietly.

Suddenly Ralph panicked. Could she be Jenny Svendsen? he wondered. There was only one way to find out, “hi I’m Ralph, I haven’t seen you before.”

“Jenny,” she replied smiling beautifully and Ralph’s heart sank.

“Am I meeting you later in your office?” he asked hesitantly, still trying to find out for sure.

“No,” she replied shaking her head, “I think we are meeting in Jenny Svendsen’s office. I’m Jenny Richardson.” What are the chances thought Ralph as his heart began to slow down and his breathing eased.

The lift stopped and Jenny got out first. She stopped and pointed down the hall, “that’s Jenny Svendsen’s office. See you in a little while.” Ralph couldn’t wait for the appointed hour. Before he left his office he made sure he looked decent, his tie was straight, the errant hair on top of his head stayed down with the aid with a dab of saliva, and then with a folder under this right arm, stopping for a second to wonder if it should be his left or right arm and cursing Craig for a moment, he marched down the hallway and knocked on the HR director’s door.

He heard a voice invite him in and he opened the door and smiled at the two women in there. He knew one was Jenny Richardson, and so the other must be Jenny Svendsen. An extremely tall and extremely blonde haired lady wearing an extremely dramatic smile. She stood up and extended her hand. Ralph took the folder from under his right arm and shook her hand introducing himself. “Left-handed?” she asked and for a moment Ralph’s heart stopped.

He looked at the still seated Jenny Richardson. “It’s ok,” she smiled at him, “I’m left-handed as well.”

“But I write with my right hand,” blurted out Ralph feeling completely at a loss for words. “I was forced to write with my right hand in Catholic school.”

“You too?” asked Jenny Richardson.

“Yes, me too!” he replied feeling for the first time in his life he was at the wrong place in history.