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Dan
by tim molloy There is a man in my office who is a broken man. When I ask him a question he doesn't answer, and then says, "Are you talking to me? "If you're talking to me you need to get my attention first," he says. "My name is Dan." He told me his name two weeks ago when I started here but he knows that I have already forgotten. He is not good with names himself. When I ask a question, a question that hints at the possibility that I doubt his competence, he gives his answer and half-smiles at me. I'm not sure if the smile means, "No problem," or "We're all in this together," or "Don't hurt me." It does not mean, "Take that, wiseguy. I have successfully answered your question. I'm smarter than you think." My question, if you want to know, was this: "Dan? When you said you called their office, did you call them... today?" It may suggest to him that I think he's not being persistent. So he tells me the exact time he called and what was said, and that they haven't called back. And then he gives me that half-smile. The other day someone made a joke about a sheik, and Dan said he preferred Trojans. We all knew he was talking about brands of condoms but we didn't want to think about Dan and condoms at the same time. He is about 50 and has thick brown hair, but it starts high on his head. He has a neat brown beard that makes him look docile and he seems tired. He is a huge man, not fat but soft in the middle and hunched at the shoulders. This is what makes him look broken, bent at the middle. He looks like a person in a costume at a theme park, a cartoon wolf or tiger. 
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