ArchivedLogs:Good Samaritans and Bad Reputations

Good Samaritans and Bad Reputations
Dramatis Personae Iztali, Brent
In Absentia	15 June 2013 Random meetings in the cafeteria.
Location <NYC> Columbia University - Morningside Heights
Situated in the Morningside Heights neighborhood, Columbia University is one of the most prestigious universities in the nation. This Ivy League school is the oldest university in New York, and attracts students from all over the world to study in its halls. With a generous sprinkling of Greek life and a Manhattan campus, Columbia students need not sacrifice anything by way of social life for their rigorous academic pursuits. It is a Saturday during the summertime on campus, which means it is not nearly as busy as usual. There are a few people still wandering around for lectureships, weekend courses, research, and other such things that fill the time at a university. Blessedly, this means short lines at the dining facilities! A young woman of obvious Hispanic descent, Iztali is picking her way through the salad bar, adding this and that bit of vegetables to her plate. Her long, dark hair is wound into a hasty sort of bun, held in place by a pen and a pencil. She wears khaki pants and an airy, embroidered forest green shirt with long sleeves. Stranger still are the pair of thin black gloves on her hands, in this weather. She has a pair of standard crutches doubled up under one arm as she slides her tray along, her other arm supported on the counter. She is taking minimal weight through her left leg, only touching down with her toe. This works well until she has made her purchase and moves to take the tray in her hands, which also need to be full of crutches to get to a table. She looks down at the tray with a frown. Unnecessary complications! Brent may be an evil, greedy, corporate worm. He's not above common decency, and so when he's having lunch in between two lectures and notices a young woman having trouble with juggling meals and crutches, the well-dressed man of clear European descent and a very slight hint of a Scottish accent inside his otherwise very Standard American accent offers the woman who was ahead of him in line the most simple of questions. "Need some help, miss?" Tali turns at the question, looking a bit sheepish. "I would usually try to push through some sort of tray in one hand, both crutches in the other process," she admits. "But it would look particularly foolish if I were to drop everything on the floor after the offer of assistance was given, now wouldn't it?" A half-smile plays across her lips. "You don't mind terribly?" "I don't mind being caught in the act of basic human decency, despite the harm it may bring to my carefully crafted reputation as an evil corporate manager." He smiles pleasantly. "I'm going over to have a seat and eat my own food anyway, and I happen to have two hands. I'm pretty sure this won't have a meaningful impact on my finances, so I can spare the effort." He lifts his own plate, having finished payment, and extends his hand so Tali can put hers in it if she so desires. "Besides, I don't know where the good spots are in this cafeteria. I'm an alumni of Yale, I fear." A single brow quirks with a hint of amusement at the fellow's phrasing. "Well, if it isn't going to ruin things so terribly to be seen by a few people," Tali adds playfully, before handing her plate over. "I promise not to spread rumours of your Good Samaritan status." Once her hands are free, she slides her crutches into their appropriate positions, one under each arm. "Fortunately, you haven't found yourself a terrible campus loyalist to gasp at you for daring to do your learning elsewhere. I split my time between this and another university as it is." She gestures for Brent to follow, then leads the way (still toe-touching on her left side) toward a quiet corner table near a broad window, brightly lit but not in a manner that will stab one in the eyes with stray beams of sunlight through the glass. There's a clear chuckle from Brent as he follows along, placing the plates down at the same time. He retracts his left hand fairly quickly, the burn scar on it briefly visible before it's hidden below the table. He's chosen a set of foods that can easily be eaten with one hand, and he starts doing so. "Well I had to pick one, and my family has been investing in Yale so we might as well pick some return on investment there." He extends his right hand at that point, "Brent MacNeil, CEO of MacNeil Insurance. Our headquarters our over in Manhattan." Yeah, he kind of does sound like he's Old Money, doesn't he? He then picks up a fry and pops it into his mouth. "Been a while since I last had cafeteria food, I almost forgot what it's like." “Thank you,” Tali says with a nod as Brent deposits her plate on the table. She sits rather gingerly in the chair nearest to her, wincing slightly as she does so, then props the crutches against the wall. Her eyes dart between the man’s offered hand and her own. “Oh, I’m sorry, I don’t…” She holds her hand up, wiggling the gloved fingers a bit. “It’s a sensory processing disorder. Physical contact can be rather uncomfortable for me.” And it is nearly the truth, as well! Tali has, at least, developed stories to cover these things. “I apologise. Iztali Choben, but please feel free to call me Tali. I am simply a student here, in the anthropology doctoral program. Well, I do some research and TA a class here and there, as well.” The tentative manner in which she picks up her fork seems to match her story. “They do a fairly good job here of being accommodating to various dietary needs. Nevertheless, it remains a cafeteria.” Brent nods, and retracts his hand quickly. "Ah, I understand. I'll not bother you with that then, Tali. Please call me Brent." He's not that old, really. For a CEO he's pretty young, he can't be much beyond his mid thirties and a generous estimate could easily put him in his late twenties. Either way, he doesn't seem to mind, "I hope that doesn't cause any troubles with your studies? I'm hardly an expert on anthropology, I'll admit. It's got to do with people, right? I just manage and negotiate business contracts, most of my work involves numbers and making harsh choices. I swear, there's never an answer to those choices that won't upset anyone." “Thank you,” Tali says again. “For understanding. It is…a difficult thing, at times, to have to forego customary greetings. There is a tendency for interactions to become…somewhat tense and uncertain when the things that are simple and established get derailed. She nibbles at a cucumber slice before answering questions. “It can, at times, make things more difficult, yes. I have found it to be something that can be worked around more and more. With care and practice.” She offers a bemused sort of smile, closed-lipped. “It is, inherently, studying people. My focus is in archaeology, however, so I tend to spend more time with /things/. Remnants from people long gone.” Her fork pushes at the food on her plate idly. “I’m afraid I don’t know a great deal about the business world. I am sure I wouldn’t enjoy having to spend my days on such decisions. It must be draining. How does one become a CEO?” "It depends a lot. In my case, I became a CEO because my family owns the company. I have significant amounts of stock in the company myself. In other cases, they start out lower in the management chain and get noticed by people who are or get into a place where they can recommend people for such positions. Alternatively, you can become one by founding a company and running it for long enough that you have become the CEO, you usually don't start out as one in that case but as time passes the label 'CEO' comes to be an appropriate way to describe your role within the company. I admit I know even less about archeology than anthropology, doesn't it involve digging things like bones and claywork out of the ground?" “Ah, family business. So was that your choice or theirs?” Tali’s fork chases after a grape tomato that tries to roll away before spearing it successfully. “Indeed, it can. It is a fantastically slow and yet rather exciting field. But, yes, it is primarily looking at artefacts, architecture, remains…whatever material culture exists for analysis.” "Must be a fascinating business indeed. I wish you good luck with your studies, though for now I fear that my break is ending. I have another lecture planned, and since I'm not sure how far away it is, I'd rather move on early, lest I get lost and run late. Have a nice day, Tali." He pushes himself up and picks up the plate with his right hand, the scar on the left briefly visible before the hand disappears into a pocket. "And it was both. They encouraged me to take over, and I certainly agreed. Of course I was groomed for it, so how much of a say I had in it is debatable, but they couldn't have forced me to. No lawyers could stop me from saying no if I really hadn't wanted to." “Thanks again. Best of luck to you, as well. It is wise to leave extra time for navigating campus, since it is quite large… People should prove quite helpful in pointing you which way to go, if you get lost, though.” Tali smiles and nods as Brent heads off. “Enjoy the lecture.”