Cultural Difference

She sees him almost everyday. He drives in to work at 8:30 a.m., parks in the same spot by the mailroom, always walks in with a grande something from Starbucks with his name written on the side.

A casual acquaintance for 10 months now, he and mom usually talk about reports and deadlines because they have to, but once in a while, something personal slips out - like the fact that mom thinks the Veg Out sandwich at Einstein Bros. Bagels is a little overpriced, or that she cannot listen to an audio book and drive at the same time because both activities require intense concentration.

On his part, the co-worker mentions his adopted children from Russia and China and family outings to the zoo or ChuckE. Cheese’s.

On the way to the restroom yesterday, mom saw him surrounded by a gaggle of cooing co-workers and two shy children clinging to his legs. Mom joined in the general coochie-cooing and smiled at the plump little toddler holding her dad’s hand, and her shy brother.

“I finally get to meet your children,” she gushed. “They’re adorable! Look at those pretty eyes and that bright smile. And they’re so tall!”

“Thanks,” he replied, pushing his son forward to say hello.

Mom shook the boy’s hand, straightened up, and peered over her co-worker’s shoulder. “Is your wife here?” she asked, curious about the kind of woman this Richard Gere look-alike was married to. “I’d love to meet her.”

Suddenly, the room became deathly quiet. The telephones stopped ringing; the fax machine stopped spitting papers; the clock on the wall stopped ticking; the computers stopped humming; the coffee in the kitchen stopped dripping; the gaggle of cooing co-workers sharply sucked in their breaths.

“Actually, my partner, Ken, is over there,” the man calmly pointed to a short, balding, bespectacled guy in baggy jeans. “I’d be happy to introduce you to him.”