In defence of Trainer

I’m feeling a little bit badly. Trainer deserved everything he got of course, but there is more to the story. Perhaps Trainer just needed to be taught for once.

Since my mom now refers to him as “The Asshole”, I’m on a slight quest of redemption, on his behalf. Bear with me.

See, the thing is, I’m a sucker for a good apology. His was good. Slightly trembling hands, puppy dog eyes, nervous energy while waiting for reassurance that apology would be accepted. Evidence of bead of sweat forming on his very pretty brow.

There was a quivering lip.

There is very little in life more endearing than a black man’s pouty, quivering, bottom lip. Gets me every friggin time. Puppy dog eyes are a close second. Rough and tough on the outside, but soft and mushy on the inside. (Tears are usually a bit too far, and certainly didn’t work for the Zimbabwean central intelligence officer who was a bit of a mess at my office back in the day, but if he’d stopped at the quivering bottom lip, who knows where we’d be today).

Trainer had me at “please, can we talk?” but I let him work for it anyways.

His pathetic excuses from the night before were replaced by plausibly sincere reasoning that revolved around the fact that he was wrong and he was sorry.

Plus, he was clearly trying. Earlier that morning, as he made his way around the room (he started with me of course), I was greeted with “Good morning Quinn” and a look that was equal parts “I know it (!)” and “please don’t punch me”.

I texted my friend to say that at least he was ‘getting warmer’.

By lunch, Mzungu GOAL had been replaced by my actual name, in the right order. By dinner, we were on an actual date, at an actual restaurant, in public, with conversation that included excessive use of my name (to make up for lost time).

Date 3, on Day 3, was also lovely.

(The girls in the office were giving me a hard time today – apparently it’s unfair that I picked up so quickly. They want lessons. I suggested we arrange a training. After all, it worked for me)

Trainer nearly choked on his lunch though when I told him I’d posted the Incident Report and that my dad would read it. I waited until dinner to confess that I had made some edits. Personally, I think it was fair to make him suffer.

Then, today, as I was having lunch with my boss, I was surprised to spot him at a table across the restaurant. He came over to our table to chat, and I introduced him just as The Security Trainer. As my boss watched him walk away, she said “mmm, he’s something nice to look at. Looks like he’d be a naughty one though. Good boys are never that pretty”. We both chuckled.

On the inside, I sighed.  I wish I could convince myself that you weren't right. Oh well, at least I’ll have something to blog about.