One Friday Unlike the Others

It is late Friday afternoon, 4:56 or 16:56 to be precise. It is almost what my co-workers call ‘quitting time’. They are beginning to talk about subjects that are not work-related. There is smiling and laughter. I can tell that they are making plans as to where they are soon going to go to eat, drink, and, as one co-worker puts it “be merry.” They will not include me in their conversations along these lines. Nor will they even think of inviting me to come along. As in the past, no one will say, “Hey Andrew, why don’t you come along with us?  We would like to have you be part of our Friday night celebration of the end of the work week .”

It is 4:58 or 16:58 now, and my co-workers are starting to leave. As my desk is close to the door leading to the street, some of the friendlier ones say to me, “Good night Andrew. We will see you again on Monday morning.” One of them, Robert, something of a joker, adds to this, “And Andrew, do not forget to turn yourself off when we leave. We don’t want you overtired on Monday.”  He was the one who gave me the name ‘Andrew,’ because I am an android.

It is now 5:12 or 17:12. The cleaners will be here soon. Of course, they will not speak to me, as they are not accustomed to speaking to an android. And usually by this time I will have turned myself off, having set myself a ‘wake-up call’ for 7:00 a.m., Monday morning.

Ready for a Change

But I do not want to follow this usual pattern this particular Friday. I ‘feel’, if that is the correct word for someone like me, that I want to go with them to the pub (short for ‘public house’).  I heard them choose for tonight’s social gathering the Toby Jug, named after a British mug. I understand that this is a British-themed bar. 

The cleaners arrive. I sit down on my chair, and feign the appearance of being shut down. They are fooled.

As they head into the elevator to go to a higher floor for the initial cleaning, I decide to head out the door. I doubt whether they will notice my absence. I turn on Google Maps, and the female voice tells me the most efficient way to head to the Toby Jug. She has a lovely voice. I wonder whether she is an android too.

At the Pub

The walk takes me 58 minutes. My co-workers, of course, would have driven their cars or ‘hitched a ride’ with one of the others, and have arrived before me. I could have walked much more rapidly, but I wanted to mix well with the other pedestrians. Going fast, I might have knocked one or more of them down.

I see the sign for the Toby Jug now. Already there can be heard the sounds of people talking more loudly than they need to for communication. I open the door, and look around me. There my co-workers are, at a large table to the left.

Robert, fulfilling his role of office loud-mouth, calls out, “Look, it’s Andrew.” It is good that he did not add “the android” to that as he often does at work, because I do not want to be seen as some kind of technological freak. I do not want to be stared at.  I wear clothes like humans do. I have a slightly dark skin coloured material covering my metal insides. My skin designer was Dakota. I just want to fit in, and talk about subjects other than just work. Interestingly, I was prepared for the potential addition of ‘the android’ by planning to reply to his words by referring to him as ‘Robert the robot.’ Fortunately, I do not have to.

Robert then pulls out a chair and pats it, in that way indicating that he wants me to sit beside him. That appears to be a way of accepting my presence among them in a non-work environment.  At least that is the way in which I see it. It could be a trick.

           After I sit down, Robert asks me, fortunately not in his loudest voice “What will you be having? Some oil? Perhaps some grease?”

           I reply rather quietly in a way that I see surprises him. “I will order what you are having, pay for it myself, and slip it to you. I have a corporate credit card.”

           He nods his head, and gestures for the waitress to come to our table. When she arrives, he says to her. “My friend here will have a draft Smithwicks, and some barbecue-flavoured crisps.”

           I knew that the last word refers in British English to what we in North America call ‘potato chips”.

           There is silence for a few minutes. Then  seeing a big screen on a nearby wall, I begin the conversation by asking “Is there a hockey game on tonight?” That gets the words going. I sit quietly and listen, for this is not part of my programmed knowledge area. It could be good for my social future to learn a few facts about the sport of hockey.

           My draft beer arrives, Robert picks it up, and drinks it all down in less than a minute. Then he declares to all of us in a way that could probably be heard a few tables away that he has to go to the bathroom. 

           On his way to the bathroom he encounters a young lady walking in the opposite direction. 

He steps in front of her and says, “Hi, beautiful. What’s a woman like you doing without a man like me?” I had heard him say that to some of our female co-workers. Usually they just smile or laugh and hit him on the shoulder.. She gives him something slightly resembling a smile, turns away from him and heads towards the bar. Robert shakes his head, and proceeds to our table.

           I then hear a chair scrape back suddenly and noisily. A large fellow sitting at the bar stands up and charges, I think would be the appropriate word, towards Robert.  He yells out, “No one comes on to my girlfriend like that.”  I know what is going to happen next. I turn my chair around, and when the big man is almost upon Robert, I stick out my right leg, causing the would-be assailant to fall rather hard on the floor.  He appears to be finding it very difficult to stand up again. His girlfriend helps him up and he limps to the bar to pay his bill. He holds tightly onto her hand, whether it is because he needs the support, or because he wants to demonstrate to the people in the pub, particularly those at our table, that she is his possession. Then the two of them leave the Toby Jug.

           Robert has been standing during this time. Once the two leave, he sits down, grabs me by the hand, and says, “I am glad you came, Andy. You will have to come to all of our Friday outings. You are a good guy to have around.”