Dog Training The American Male Read Online Free PDF Page B

allowing us to establish
a sense of equality in the relationship.”
    “What for? So I can compete with
some young shiksa like yourself? See how your husband feels about you in
thirty years when your boobs start sagging and your pubic hair turns gray.”
    “Oh, Dr. Beach isn’t married,” said
Bonnie, draining her diet-coke.
    Laticia shrugged. “The lady don’t
even got a boyfriend.”
    “That’s not true,” Nancy snapped.
“I mean, I was engaged . . . twice. I decided to break
things off for a variety of reasons, some similar to Edna’s.”
    “Yeah, but that was like decades
ago.”
    Edna’s face flushed pink. “Dr.
Beach, I thought you were a relationship counselor?”
    “I am. If you’d like to see my
degrees—”
    “Who cares about a degree? When I
read the Lifestyle Revolution brochure, I had no idea you were so young.
How could you possibly know what I’m going through. And not to be dating . . . with
your looks? The Puerto Rican slut knows more about relationships than you do.”
    “Got dat right.”
    “You’re right Edna. When it comes
to relationships, my own personal experiences are somewhat limited. But don’t
discount my education. Tapping into my wealth of knowledge, we can craft the
tools you need to work on you.”
    “Know what Dr. Beach . . . maybe
you ought to work on yourself.”
     Nancy watched, feeling helpless
as Edna gathered her belongings and left. * * * * *
     
     
    The phone rang twice before Lana answered.
“Nance?”
    “Pick me up at the apartment at
seven-thirty. I’m in.”

 
     

     
     
    ALWAYS
BE POLITE
     
    The Information
Technology company, I-Guru USA was located on the first floor of the
building formerly owned by American Media Inc., publisher of The National
Enquirer . AMI moved out in the wake of the 2001 anthrax attacks that
contaminated the building and killed one of the tabloid’s photo editors. The
new owners had the property decontaminated, but there was no rush to rent
space. I-Guru set up shop three years later under a heavily discounted
long term lease. Despite the savings, the I.T. company’s Boca Raton overhead
remains considerably higher than its corporate offices in Bangalore, India
where ninety-five percent of its customer calls are routed.
    The company’s lone U.S. satellite
office (a requirement for certain clientele) is limited to the manager’s
office, a small kitchen, supply room, and the phone room where a dozen
semi-soundproof cubicles house I-Guru’s I.T. Techs. Eleven of the
cubicles are manned by graduate or post-graduate students from India. Each man wore
dark slacks, white collared button-down shirts, dress shoes, and matching black
ties. Their work cubicles are organized and kept immaculate. A sign: Always
Be Polite is thumb-tacked to their otherwise vacant corkboards. Each man spoke
with a Zen-like calm into a headset:
    “I am so sorry you are
experiencing these difficulties, Mr. Hollander.”
    “Thank you for your patience,
Mrs. Angsten. If you don’t mind, we will begin to address your problem by
restarting your computer.”
    “Again, I apologize, Mr. Gelet.
Since the last attempt did not resolve the problem, we shall try something
else. I am certain this will work.”
    The twelfth man, occupying the
last booth, was wearing a soda-stained Miami Dolphins tee-shirt, Bermuda
shorts, sunglasses, and thongs. His bare feet are propped up on the desk. A
Miami Dolphins Cheerleader calendar hung crooked from his corkboard, along with
a variety of pictures that include John Lennon, the Three Stooges, and Pamela
Anderson from her glory years on Baywatch. His desk is littered with files; the
floor beneath his cubicle with fast food wrappers.
    Jacob Cope scratched his auburn
beard, then let out a carbonated burp. “Sorry, it’s these damn Big Gulps. Let’s
try this again, Mrs. Badcock, only this time click on the right side of the
gerbil. Yes, I know it’s called a mouse, but when you abuse it like you