{"id":314,"date":"2011-09-08T13:50:14","date_gmt":"2011-09-08T11:50:14","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/damiengaleone.com\/?p=314"},"modified":"2012-10-15T10:17:38","modified_gmt":"2012-10-15T08:17:38","slug":"get-him-the-hell-out-of-here-whoever-the-hell-he-is","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/damiengaleone.com\/?p=314","title":{"rendered":"Get him the hell out of here, whoever the hell he is!"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"Kitty<\/a>\u201cAhoj,\u201d the boy who leans into the room seems pleasant enough but is wearing a smile which reads: I need something from you. \u201cCan he come in?\u201d the boy asks.<\/p>\n

I look around and see no other person. I guess that the boy is an assistant to one of the many special-needs students at the university, who is probably in the hallway. I say, \u201cOf course, he is more than welcome.\u201d I sit down.<\/p>\n

The boy walks in the room and takes out his index. \u201cHe needs you to sign this,\u201d the boy smiles, \u201cif you have time.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI have time.\u201d I am now searching the room for another sign of life. Nobody. Nothing.<\/p>\n

The boy holds out his index, which is a booklet every student must get signed by every teacher they have had in any given semester, thus proving a satisfactory mark in that class. Sometimes a student brings a friend\u2019s index; I figure this must be the case.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, OK, let me have his index.\u201d I almost wink, take it and flip to the picture on the inside cover. It\u2019s our boy, whose name is Honza, smiling the very same \u201cI need something from you\u201d smile. \u201cWho was your teacher?\u201d I ask.<\/p>\n

\u201cHis teacher was Mrs…\u201d Honza trails off as if he wants me to finish his thought. \u201cHe can\u2019t remember her name.\u201d Honza frowns, \u201cIs that a problem for him?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOK, Honza, I have to ask you a question, alright?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSure,\u201d Honza smiles at me.<\/p>\n

\u201cWho is \u2018he\u2019?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe who?\u201d<\/p>\n

I foresee the Abbott and Costello skit from hell and decide to take a different approach. \u201cWhat is your name?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHonza,\u201d he says this as if speaking to a child who can\u2019t remember the word for Squirrel.<\/p>\n

\u201cSay that in a full sentence,\u201d I command. A thin dew of sweat makes its appearance on my forehead.<\/p>\n

He taps his forefinger against his chest and gives me a condescending smile. \u201cHis name is Honza.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell if he speaks to me like that again, he is going to get an index shoved into his ass. Does he understand?\u201d<\/p>\n

Honza pulls his hands in the air and apologizes with body language. \u201cHe understands.\u201d<\/p>\n

I press my fingers into my temples. \u201cHoly shit, Honza, he is driving me out of my mind.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe apologizes.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFuck.\u201d<\/p>\n

Czech verbs are conjugated to denote the actor of the verb. So, Mluvit is the infinitive meaning to speak. Mluvim means I speak, mluvi\u0161 means you speak, and mluvi means he\/she speaks. In my first three minutes with Honza, I think this is a linguistic problem. But other than this abnormality in his speaking, Honza\u2019s English is very good. And he speaks about other people using the appropriate pronouns. Furthermore, the grammar surrounding his pronoun is flawless: He understands, not He understand.<\/p>\n

For these reasons, I believe that Honza has been sent to me for a reason. But, why?<\/p>\n

I search for a theory; each one more disturbing in its level of paranoia. Is this a practical joke? Has Honza been sent here by the former KGB to drive me insane? Is Honza referring to God? Does Honza think he\u2019s God? Is Honza God?<\/p>\n

I find the teacher\u2019s name and search through her files and tests and find Honza\u2019s name on a class list. It\u2019s there just like any other; nothing unusual about it all. I find his test and scan it for a pathological overuse of the words he, him and his, but there\u2019s nothing out of the ordinary. I look at Honza, who is staring into his phone and attacking an itch on his ankle with the toe of his shoe.<\/p>\n

He puts it away and looks at me. \u201cHow did he do?\u201d he asks.<\/p>\n

I sign my name twice and fill out the index. \u201cHe did fine.\u201d I show him the test mark and hand him back his index. \u201cNow, he must get the hell away from me before he gets thrown out of a window.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe will. He will. Have a nice day.\u201d And just like that, Honza\u2019s out of my life.<\/p>\n

I sit at my desk and decide that I need to talk to his teacher. She is a part-time teacher, only at the university once a month. It\u2019s the beginning of the semester and I haven\u2019t seen her yet. I saunter over to my boss\u2019s office and knock on the door. She tells me to come in.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow are you,\u201d I begin. For some reason I feel as though I am a sixteen year old about to buy condoms or ask a girl to the big dance. I finally ask her about the teacher.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, she\u2019s not coming back,\u201d my boss says. \u201cShe decided to retire.\u201d She looks over her shoulders conspiratorially, \u201cI think she was having some personal problems. Know what I mean?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHoly crap, yes,\u201d I say as I leave the room. \u201cHe surely does.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

\u201cAhoj,\u201d the boy who leans into the room seems pleasant enough but is wearing a smile which reads: I need something from you. \u201cCan he come in?\u201d the boy asks. I look around and see no other person. I guess that the boy is an assistant to one of the many special-needs students at the […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[8],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-314","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-blog"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p1EvEu-54","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/damiengaleone.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/314","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/damiengaleone.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/damiengaleone.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/damiengaleone.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/damiengaleone.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=314"}],"version-history":[{"count":13,"href":"https:\/\/damiengaleone.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/314\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":967,"href":"https:\/\/damiengaleone.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/314\/revisions\/967"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/damiengaleone.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=314"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/damiengaleone.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=314"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/damiengaleone.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=314"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}