MY KNIGHT IN SHINING ARMOR

Maintenance was pretty good about getting my book boxes to me, and it was only a day or two before I walked into my new office to find a guy unloading a cart loaded up with them. He asked me where to put them, and while he was doing it I sort of made conversation with him, and one thing led to another, and I found myself asking him if he ever worked in the Business building. So when he said he sometimes did, I asked him about permanent markers on the whiteboards, and he just laughed it off. “We get that all the time,” he said. “You just write over the permanent marker with a dry erase marker. It comes right off. Alcohol works too. Once in a while you get a stubborn one, but it always comes off eventually.”

“You mean you don’t have to replace the whiteboard?” I asked in surprise.

“No, not at all,” he said. “Which classroom is it?”

“I don’t know, I don’t teach in the Business building.”

“How did you find out about it?”

“Business complained to the Dean. He told me they were super ticked off and wanted us to pay to replace it.”

“Maybe they complained before the staff had a chance to get to it. I wouldn’t worry.”

Well it was all very well for him to say that, but being me, of course I worried. Here was this very basic piece of information, which I guess I should have known before, but I didn’t, and obviously the Dean didn’t either, combined with a completely unjust accusation against my department, and even though I have to say some of my colleagues can be a pain, in this particular case they most definitely did not deserve to be denounced. But I couldn’t exactly just shoot off an email to the whole college, with copies to the entire administration, even though I have to admit I was sorely tempted.

I was still thinking about it when Lionel stopped by to discuss the weather with the admin, which either meant he was hoping to catch me unoccupied, or else he maybe wanted to ask her something about American etiquette, since it wasn’t likely he really needed her opinion of the weather. I stepped out to add my two cents worth, glad to have an excuse to stop unpacking my books, which I was only doing to keep my hands busy while I went over in my head how to deal with Business without just making things worse. Naturally I told Lionel all about it.

He thought it was hilarious and made a number of humorous suggestions, like that I should send Business a case of rubbing alcohol, mixing in a few bottles of scotch. I still didn’t see anything funny about it, but I stopped being quite so mad, and when he offered to approach the Dean himself, with “an old French remedy his grandmother taught him,” I assumed he was still joking, and I laughed it off.

So it took me by surprise when he came back that afternoon with a full report. “I went to the Dean’s office,” he said. “I was careful to choose a moment when they weren’t busy, and the Dean had the door open, so he was listening when I asked the admin for alcohol to clean a whiteboard in my classroom. She was very curious, and I explained that it worked in France, and I offered to bring her some if she would tell me where to buy it. Then the Dean came out and told me he would pay for it if I bought some for him. So I went to the pharmacy in the supermarket, which was where they recommended. I bought some for you, too.” And he held out a nice plastic bottle of isopropyl rubbing alcohol, and I was so happy I could have kissed him.

“My hero!” I exclaimed.

He grinned modestly. “But,” he said, “that is not all. I went then to the Business building, where I had not been before. I found the office where their admin sits, and I introduced myself to her. Do you know the Business admin?” He paused, adding drama and suspense to his tale.

“No,” I said. “That’s not one of my hangouts.”

“Her name is Louisa,” he told me. “And she has a very interesting face. Perhaps her background is mixed somehow, I am thinking maybe Pacific Islander. Anyway, I told her that because I am from France, I know when I see a beautiful woman, and because I am from France, I always tell a woman when I see that she is beautiful, and she, Louisa, is a very beautiful woman.”

“Oh no, Lionel, you didn’t say that! You can’t talk about a woman’s appearance. You’ll get in trouble.”

He looked surprised. “Really? Well, if I get in trouble, you will support me, yes?”

“Of course. If she complains, we’ll say it’s a cultural misunderstanding.”

“Good, but I do not believe she will complain. She did not appear offended. Then I gave her a bottle of alcohol and explained what it is for. I said,” here he looked roguish, “that it is possible that in Spain it is not known, but in France we have much success with cleaning whiteboards. As you know, I only learned of this today, so what I said is not, strictly speaking, true, and I hope I will not be required to prove it. Also, I am very fond of Spain and the Spanish; I would not wish one to believe otherwise.”

I thanked him profusely and set the bottle of alcohol on my desk as if it were a treasured gift to be displayed with pride.



By this time “fences, Bus.” and “talk to Spanish” had been on my to-do list every day for a week while I tried to decide what to do. I crossed them both off with a flourish.