‘Is that Han Solo woman single,’ he asks.
‘You mean Hope Solo, the goalkeeper?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Eh I’m not sure,’ I say, although a part of my brain is just dying to tell him she’s hardly in the market for a balding forty-something who has just lost half his fortune in a bitter divorce. Especially one with Stars Wars figures on his desk.
I’ve been in the hot seat for fifteen minutes listening to the boss tell me in excruciating detail how his daughter made him watch the USA defeat Brazil yesterday. He’s now a fan of the beautiful game for life apparently even if he’s struggling with the names.
‘What about Baby Wombat?’
‘Abby Wambach?
Yeah, yeah, whatever her name is. That play with her head, does she practice stuff like that?
‘I presume so yes.’
‘Amazing, amazing. There’s a lesson there for the corporation I think. I may have to show highlights of the game to the staff and explain the importance of never giving up on a lost cause. I may want you to help me draft the speech.’
Just what I need. The boss developing an interest in the sport. There’s nothing more likely to kill my love for soccer than that.
‘Great, yeah, I can put together some notes for you,’ I say, pretending to be enthusiastic.
‘Now, where are me and you going to watch the semi-final against France on Wednesday?’
‘How about the conference room on the big screen?’
‘Perfect.’
The thought of being alone in there with him for two hours frightens me so as I leave his office I have a brainwave.
‘Can I have your attention please ladies and gentleman,’ I shout, standing on a chair in the center of the room. ‘All staff will gather in the conference room at 11.30am on Wednesday to watch the USA take on France in the Women’s World Cup. Attendance is mandatory. Orders from the boss.’
Smiles all around and pats on the back as I walk back to my desk and await the free frappuccinos that will soon be coming my way from grateful co-workers.
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