Archie was going to be so pissed.
I spied him practically a half mile away. For an old man, he was spritely. I ran in my sensible shoes to catch up with him.
When I finally did, I was sweating and out of breath. He barely turned to see who was approaching. There was little to no acknowledgment. Was he mad at me?
It was a big leap to think The Congressman even cared I was there. However, Archie’s paranoia was crawling all over me. The day before there was an “incident.”
We only had one printer in the office, and it was a dinosaur. I was printing out envelopes at the same time Archie was trying to print out a copy of a speech that The Congressman was filming in a few minutes from inside the Cannon Building Rotunda.
Because it was a relic, the printer wouldn’t let me cancel the print job in real time, and it would take close to ten minutes for it to stop and another five to recalibrate to print the speech.
Archie started screaming “Thanks a lot!!!” “And The Congressman thanks you!!!”
The Congressman liked his speeches printed out in a forty-eight size font so he could read it without his glasses.
Archie had to handwrite the remarks and ran out the door muttering what a terrible person/daughter/intern/human being/girl/mammal I was.
Archie ranted all the time, but this was different. This time he was throwing me under the bus to The Congressman.
I started tearing up. I had a full-on panic attack, and Peter was confused why I was so upset. “It’s just Archie…” Peter tried to comfort me. “He’ll forget all about it.”
Sure enough, the whole thing was never mentioned, but I still wondered if The Congressman blamed me for having to decipher Archie’s handwriting on live T.V.
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