|Image from cached newslookup.com|
Every once in a while, a sharp - but odd - memory will burble up. I had one recently, when posting about the fluttering of chickadees around me on the deck. Many, many (many) years ago, in another life, I was unemployed briefly and filled my time between job interviews with trips to the zoo. One day I was the only visitor to the Monkey House and was watching a zoo keeper feed these little bitty monkeys. Being the animal-smitten person that I am (and was and will be), I was riveted, face pressed against the glass separating us.
The zoo keeper noticed me staring and came out from a side door. "Want to feed them?" he asked. I almost peed my pants, I was so excited (delicately put, no?) I trotted, all a-twitter, behind him and before I knew it, I was in their 'off-camera' quarters. He gave me a handful of what looked to be trail mix (without the M&Ms) and the next thing I knew, I was COVERED in little monkeys. I had little fingers poking in my ears, trying to pry open my fist to get at the mix, hunting in my pockets. It was an out-of-body experience. They were chattering away, busy, busy, busy. After about 10 minutes, the keeper came to my rescue and dinged on a metal dish that apparently held something quite wonderful, because they all made a beeline for him and I was able to scoot out the door.
I walked around in a daze (noting that the thoroughly unattractive orangutan was named Susie), until it was time to go to my next interview. Where, unknown to me, I entered their offices with monkey poop down my back and my hair standing on end from little hands. Not surprisingly, it was a short interview with a shocked-looking HR person and I didn't get the job.