By dinner, my eye was still bloodshot and in pain but at least it had quit watering. Well, mostly quit watering.
We ordered lobster just like Bill said we would. I've never had lobster before -- at least not a whole one. I started picking at it with my fork, trying to open the shell.
"So do you want to work in customer service forever," Bill asked, striking a nerve.
I hate my job. Do I tell him that? Do I finally tell him about going back to school? What do I say?
I squinted my injured eye. "It's definitely not my dream job. I'm going back to school to get a degree in graphic design."
"That's wonderful. Maybe some day you'll be able to work at Net Tech with me."
Just as Bill said this, movements from my fork caused my lobster to fly off of my plate and across the table and over Bill's shoulder. It hit the back of the booth and fell down to the seat with a thud.
The people dining next to us turned and gave us a strange look. I look from left to right, not knowing what to do. One eye was wide, the other nearly swollen shut. Were my chances with Bill ruined?
"Sorry, I've never had lobster that was still in the shell before."
Bill picked up the lobster and put it back on the plate. "The meat is on the inside so you can still eat it. But you need this tool. I'll show you."
Sure enough Bill showed me how to break open a lobster. And he didn't get mad.