"What is that noise?" the professor asks with irritation, as if the sound from the buzzing motor beyond the open window is conspiring against her alone.
"It's a leaf blower." I say.
"My word,” her head pushing through the window—glaring, searching for the person responsible for her annoyance “what an awful noise. Can you imagine being a leaf blower? Wouldn't that be an awful job?"
"I've been a gardener," I say strategically cheerful, "it was quite fun actually, especially at this time of year when we'd rake the leaves in great big piles. I wore the blower on my back all day long--getting lost in that hum--quite hypnotic really. A wonderful job," I assert again.
"Hmm, maybe so." She pouts.
I turn my blue collar up and walk away, off to the copy room to run her copies.