Monkey Business

kimmy does her patriotic duty

Tuesday, October 14, 10:25 a.m.

I sit next to Layla in Strategy, since it’s the one class where she doesn’t sit in the front row. The spitting bothers her.

“How are you feeling?” she asks.

“Better, thanks.” I can’t believe I spilled all that personal information to her last week. I must be a masochist. I whine about how women screw me over, and then I give someone I barely know the ammunition to stick it to me again. Now I have to be nice to her for the rest of our lives. Or at least until I get kicked out of school.

Russ walks in next and sits in the back.

Martin struts into the room, slams the front door and immediately writes BUSINESS IS WAR! on the blackboard, as he does every day. At least he’s not wearing the army hat he wore on the first day of class.

Jamie opens the door, waves to Martin and sits in the empty seat next to mine. “Hi, gorgeous,” he says, winking.

Layla tries to repress the smile on her face. I definitely should not have spilled the small penis info. Why am I so blessed with verbal diarrhea?

But I have the goods on her, if she turns into a leak, I’m sure the officials at LWBS would be interested to know that she has a photo of an applicant on her night table. For sexual fodder! I can’t believe she was so obvious about…masturbating. I’ve never actually heard a woman admit to masturbating. Guys talk about it all the time, but women? I bet if I’d hung around longer, she would have pulled out her dildos. She’s so…open. Which I guess is kind of cool.

Okay, I admit I’ve masturbated. Once. Tried to, anyway. But I couldn’t climax, and I just got sore. Yeah, I’m pretty screwed up.

But maybe if I found the right guy…

If Russ wasn’t already with Sharon…

“Today, I’ll be teaching you the importance of goals and strategy when dealing with a competitor,” Martin showers on the front row. “Pretend you are a new company wanting to break into the laundry-detergent industry. Your strategy is your roadmap. If implemented properly, it will help you reach your goals. Your strategic plan should be grounded in knowledge about your customer, research about your competitor, and your firm’s current performance.”

I so don’t understand what he’s talking about.

Maybe if applied it to boyfriend stealing…mmm. This could work!

Goal: get Russ to date me.

Now let’s see. I need knowledge about my customer, research about my competitor and understanding regarding my firm’s current performance.

My customer: Russ. What do I know about Russ, other than he’s hot and unavailable? I flip to the Understanding the Customer section of my strategy textbook for appropriate businessy terms.

1. Brand loyal. Russ is not very brand loyal. He’s joined twelve clubs since starting school and can’t decide on a major. He’s always up for a drink, a joint or a smoke break. He can’t seem to make up his mind about anything.

2. Easily influenced. Russ is easily influenced by peers. He has not cheated on his girlfriend (yet), but he gives off vibes that he has a tough time resisting temptation.

3. Potential impulse buyer. Does Russ acquire merchandise on impulse? I certainly hope so, if I’m the potential merchandise.

Not bad. Not bad at all. My heart speeds up. I can do this!

Now, for my competitor analysis: Sharon’s goal is probably to marry Russ. What I don’t know is how close she is to achieving that goal.

Okay, here we go. Find Sharon’s vulnerability and attack. She lives in another country. How can I use that to my advantage and turn “Absence makes the heart grow fonder” into “Out of sight, out of mind”? Obviously, I need to do some research.

Is this horrible? What kind of a person actively tries to steal someone else’s boyfriend?

A person like Cheryl.

An evil person.

Not necessarily. It’s nothing personal, just business, as they say. A matter of economics, supply and demand. (I demand what Russ is supplying?) If business is war, then so must be love! And so, if capitalism is at the heart of the American Dream, I’m doing my patriotic duty.

Besides, if he loves her so much, what the hell was he doing flirting with me?

All right, then. Time to review some vital statistics:

1. He’s not married.

2. He’s not engaged (yet).

3. He’s dating someone who lives in another city. Another country.

4.

5. A guy doesn’t get poached unless he wants to get poached. (I’d be doing Sharon a favor if I win; she doesn’t deserve to spend her life with someone who doesn’t really love her.)

6. And last but definitely not least, I’ve caught him staring at my boobs on more than one occasion.

I spot Nick in line for lunch. “Hey, you.”

“Hey, dude,” he says. How can I be called dude with this cleavage? “What’s going on?”

“Not much. Just hungry. Where’s your sidekick?”

“Marketing meeting. Real estate club. Who knows with that guy?”

For once I’m glad that Russ is missing in action. I want to talk to Nick without interference.

I pick a few vegetables from the salad bar. “Mind if I join you?”

He blankets his plate with a glob of macaroni and cheese. “I was going to head back to my room, but we can eat here if you want.”

“Why not? We could use the break.” I try to appear blasé, as if a break is the reason I’m here. We chitchat for a few minutes while I try to come up with devious and clever ways to uncover information about Sharon. “How’s the studying going?”

“Not bad. Having some trouble concentrating, though.”

“A side effect of pot, I’m told.”

He smiles sheepishly. “Is it that obvious?”

“The Visine gave you away.”

“Russ is the one who’s paranoid about anyone finding out.” And then finally he throws me an unintentional bone. “He’s nerdy that way. Afraid some girl in second year will tell his girlfriend or something.”

Covert research is easier than I thought. “Does Sharon have spies?” I ask jokingly.

“I think she has a friend at LWBS.”

Oh. I take a bite of salad and try to appear thoughtful. “She doesn’t know he smokes?”

“Nope. She doesn’t approve.” He shoves a forkful of macaroni into his mouth. “This is really terrible.”

I try to sway the conversation back to Sharon. “Is she controlling?”

“Who?”

Who? Must I do all the work here? I stop myself from rolling my eyes. “Sharon.”

“I don’t know. Maybe. She makes him call her every night. I think it annoys him.”

Excellent. “Why didn’t she move here to be with him? Are they not that serious?”

“They’re serious, but she has a job teaching in Toronto. She didn’t want to give up her seniority, and besides, it’s not easy getting a visa to work here. Immigration laws are really tight. I think he’s planning on going back to Canada, anyway.”

What? My Prince Charming wants to live north of the border? Don’t they live in igloos up there? Kidding. Kind of.

“I can’t believe we still have two classes left today,” he says, abruptly changing the subject. “Mondays and Wednesdays are way too long.”

“At least we have no school Fridays,” I say, then quietly finish my salad, absorbed in my thoughts.

I’m told it’s easy to immigrate to the U. S. if you’re married to a citizen.

I spend Economics updating my strategic plan.

She’s closer to achieving her goal than I thought if he’s planning on moving back to Canada. I mentally review her weaknesses. She’s controlling, she’s bossy, she’s prudish (schoolteachers aren’t slutty, are they?), and she’s not here. Time for an attack!

Strategy: Illustrate that unlike Sharon, I am not controlling.

· Tactic: Smoke pot with him.

· Tactic: Never tell him what to do.

Strategy: Illustrate that I am not prudish.

· Tactic: Wear revealing clothing.

· Tactic: Allude to sex during conversation.

Strategy: Since he is not brand loyal, show him that there are other, better brands available.

· Tactic: Show him how compatible we are. Play up the business/LWBS power couple angle.

· Tactic: Show that our schedules coincide and Sharon’s and his don’t. (Too bad Toronto is the same time zone.)

Strategy: Since he is easily influenced by peers, make sure that his peers approve of me and not Sharon.

· Tactic: Smoke pot with Nick.

· Tactic: Make Nick believe that Sharon is a bitch.

Strategy: Benefit from his impulse-buying tendencies.

· Tactic: Increase my exposure #1

(i. e. practice borderline stalking).

· Tactic: Increase my exposure #2

(i. e. wear less clothing).

· Tactic: Increase my exposure #3

(i. e. combine #1 and #2, especially when his defenses are down).

When the bell rings after IC, Nick pulls back his chair and says to Russ, “Time for a four-twenty.”

I lean over their desks in my tighter, lower-cut, redder outfit. “Please, shed some light on this four-twenty.”

Nick laughs and Russ looks embarrassed. “It means, it’s time to smoke a joint,” Nick says.

“I think it’s the police code in California for drugs,” Russ says.

“No, dude,” Nick says. “That’s a myth. It was some group in the seventies who met at 4:20 every day after school, and they used four-twenty as their code for marijuana so they could talk about it in front of teachers and parents.”

“Ah. Just like you two. And it’s now-” I use my right arm to point to the watch on my left hand, thereby pressing together my breasts and enhancing my cleavage “-four-twenty.”

Nick nods. “Pretty clever, huh?”

“I think I’ll join you,” I say. Strategy in motion.

I haven’t smoked since college. Wayne wasn’t into it, so I wasn’t into it. But duty calls.

“Are we meeting now?” Lauren asks, poking her annoying head between the boys.

“No!” I say.

“But what about the Organizational Behavior assignment?”

Why is she butting into my tactics? “We’ll meet at five,” I say, leading the boys away. Once back at the Zoo, Nick opens the window in his room, then shoves a towel into the crack between the floor and the door.

I plop down onto Nick’s bed, my back against the wall. Nick sits backward on his computer chair, as if he were riding a horse.

Russ sits next to me. Excellent.

Nick opens a drawer and pulls out what looks like a wooden jewelry box. He takes out his stash, a shot glass and a long pair of scissors.

Russ closes his eyes and leans his head against the wall.

“Tired?” I say.

He blinks. “Yeah. I think I signed up for too many activities.”

Time to commiserate. “This place is a killer. I know just how you feel.”

I let my shoulder gently touch his.

He doesn’t move away.