Our office manager Catherine had suggested I get to know the employees better. It wasn’t like I wasn’t trying. The entire staff was all very personable and in an office weighted heavily towards female employees, they were using every available opportunity to get to know the fifth male on the staff.

I approached the whole thing as graciously as I could; I didn’t know the city and I didn’t know where to go or what to do, so I jumped at every opportunity for somebody to show me around. Becky the receptionist took me to a Soho-esque section of town one night to show me Toronto’s seedy underbelly. Krista in accounts took me to dinner twice and recommended a third, showing me around the waterfront and Skydome sections of the city. Dawn from our Absolut creative group was going to take me to an art opening in the artist colony of town but I instead spent the entire night hearing about her boyfriend troubles. I sensed she just wanted a third party to vent to and didn't offer advice.

I’m no Dr. Phil.

When Jenna took me out on the town it was different. It was like being on a guided tour. I learned where everything important in the city was located and how to get around town at any time without a car. Jenna was a sweet girl, just out of college and wide-eyed around the office, always eager to learn. She struck me as one of those small-town girls suddenly thrown into big-city living yet retaining the “golly gee” naiveté of her hometown upbringing. She was a nice and sweet enough girl.

That point of view wasn’t shared by one of my male cohorts. “Jenna? I’m sure she wanted to put the moves on you,” said Martin over coffee. Martin was the type of guy who went through alternating phases of saying nothing and saying more than you cared to hear. It was hard to predict which version would show up any given day. Sometimes he was very simple and silent, giving the raised eyebrows move as he'd pass in the hall as his way of saying “what’s up, how’s it going.” Every office has one of those.

“No, she just wanted to show me around, and she did. Nice girl. Sweet.”

“We talking about the same Jenna?” asked Martin. “She put the moves on Hank a month after getting here. I think they even went out a few times.”

“I never picked up she was doing anything more than showing me around town,” I said. I never sensed that from any of the four. I don’t even think I had my radar going since I arrived in Toronto, which was strange because I always have it on.

I wasn’t feeling quite right. I was a fish out of water.

I wasn’t the only one. When I called my parents to see how they were and if life with my ugly dog had changed anything for them, they told me Sophia was having a difficult time adjusting to her new surroundings.

“But she’s been there many times before,” I protested.

“Yes, but never more than a day or two,” said my mother. “She mopes around a lot and whines, like something vital about her daily routine is missing.”

It seemed Sophia and I had something in common.

My best bet of learning anything about these people and this office filled with those I’d infringed upon would have to come through other means. One day it hit me how I’d do it: The iPod.

A traffic manager for print and radio named Margot came in every morning without fail wearing earbuds and listening to her iPod. I’d always wondered what this late-30s single mother was listening to and I figured if I could find out, I’d learn a lot about her. Music reveals a lot about us – maybe more than we’d be comfortable sharing any other way – so I figured I’d give it a shot.

“I’ve got an idea,” I said as I approached her cubicle. “Let’s trade iPods for a day.”

“What on earth for?” asked Margot.

“I’m interested in hearing what you listen to. I have a theory that music reveals a lot about what we’re like on the inside, and since I know very few people around here I thought that would be a way of getting to know somebody.”

“So you think we listen to the same music? I think you’d be surprised,” she answered.

“That’s not what I mean. What do I know about you? Zip. What do you know about me? Same answer. We swap iPods for 24 hours and listen to whatever is on them. Then the next day we see if we can figure out anything about the other person based on the music we’ve heard. What do you think?”

“Umm, okay, I guess it doesn’t hurt to experiment every so often.” Bet that attitude is what landed you with the kid, I thought.

“Do you want my headphones too?” she asked.

“No, that’s gross. Keep them, I have my own.” We swapped players and I stuffed hers in my pocket.

“See you tomorrow.”
____________________________________________________________________________________
Here we go, don't ya know
We're the ones that keep it wicked
Rock n' Roll, all good, mix it up
That's my ticket
Cruisin' in my Cadillac Escalade trickin'
Sometimes like it easy, sometimes like it rugged

Pink’s Try This CD is blasting through my headphones as I listen to Margot’s iPod on the walk to work the following morning. Normally I’d forward right past Pink, but Tim Armstrong, the guitarist for the bands Rancid and Transplants who’s serving as Pink’s co-writer and producer, has crafted some catchy guitar lines that have me hooked for the time being. I scroll down the list of artists in her directory: Jem, Kelly Clarkson, TLC, 98 Degrees, My Chemical Romance, Evanescence, and Avril Lavigne to name a few. What is with this list? I select TLC and “Red Light Special” soon comes on. I can only listen for a minute before going randomly to the next track – Kelly Clarkson’s “Since You’ve Been Gone.” Maybe this was a bad idea.

Margot was already waiting for me at my desk when I arrived. “So let me ask you - how did you come up with this collection?”

“What do you mean?”

“I haven’t heard of half of these bands.” She started scrolling through some names. “Tones on Tail. Death Cab for Cutie. Suffrajet. Foo Fighters.”

“You’ve never heard of Foo Fighters? They’re very mainstream.”

“I didn’t even know what it was, so I listened. The guy just yells, he doesn’t even sing. So I’m going to guess you are the type of guy who is angry all the time, or kicks small animals.”

I laughed. “Not even close. I admit I’m schizophrenic when it comes to my music tastes, but I’m a very mellow guy. Besides, I have plenty of music on there from Frank Sinatra, Miles Davis, even the Beatles.”

She smiled. “I guess we can be varied with our tastes. So what did you surmise about me?”

I stood there looking at her. I was hoping to get some visual clues from her because I had very little to go on from what I’d heard on the iPod. I looked her over for a moment and then scrolled her table of contents one last time. She stood there in her wool checkered pattern sweater and business slacks, staring silently back.

“You’ve got a lot of juvenile-type music here, so I’m going to guess that over time you’ve adopted your child’s music tastes. Daughter, perhaps?”

“Not quite. I’m monitoring my daughter’s music for any offensive material. They listen to such filth these days. So do you I might add.” She went back to my iPod contents. “Bitch Beta Have My Money,” she recited. “That’s horrible.”

“AMG – come on, that’s a classic!”

She shook her head. “I went by my daughter’s room one day and she was listening to that 50 Cent guy, and all I heard was bitch this and ho that, and how he was going to ‘bend this ho over.’ No way. Not in my house is she listening to that.”

“Well I commend you for being involved in your daughter’s life that way. How old is she?”

“14. The fun years.” She rolled her eyes as she said this. “Her name is Corrine.”

We ended up talking off and on for the rest of the day when time allowed. Then late in the afternoon Margot showed up one last time at my desk.

“What are you doing tomorrow night for dinner?” she asked.

I sat back in my chair. “Margot, are you asking me out?” I flirted. I leaned over towards Cindy, seated a few feet away. “Margot’s asking me out. Wanna watch?” Cindy giggled.

“Stop it, you,” said Margot, play-slapping me on the shoulder. When I turned back to Margot her face was a little flushed.

“Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day,” I replied, smirking.

“I know. There are a bunch of us going out to dinner tomorrow night. Cindy’s going. Aren’t you?” Cindy nodded while she continued to work. “There’s a nice restaurant literally around the corner from where I live we’re going to meet at. I thought you might like to join us.”

“You know tomorrow night is supposed to be when we try the new bottle designs out in the bar. I can’t.”

“No, they changed the date, didn’t you know? Nobody realized it was Valentine’s Day back when they firt arranged a night, so they changed the date with the bar to Saturday.” She smiled. “So you can go.”

I thought about my options. Things were running hot and cold with Elizabeth and I was becoming increasingly annoyed with her. The woman neither respected nor considered my time important. Everything was done when she wanted. I also had a difficult time reaching Elizabeth. It was as if it was okay for her to call me, but I couldn't respond in kind. Always voicemail. Oh well - minutes ago I thought I was going to be anchoring the corner stool at some bar watching patrons make their choice of vodka and keeping notes on the results. This couldn't be any worse.
“Okay. Consider me in,” I said.

“Good. It’s a pretty dressy place, so make sure you’re dressed for it. Since it’s right around the corner, why don’t you stop by first and then we can walk over.”

“Pick you up first? You sure you aren’t asking me out?” I again joked.

Margot got a little brave. “You know, if I were ten years younger...” she stared. Then she laughed. “You’re funny,” she added.

After I got directions to Margot’s place and she had left I turned back to Cindy. “I guess I’ll see you there,” I remarked.

“You’ll see a lot of us there,” Cindy replied.

“Pardon?”

“Oh, there’s about...” she started counting on her fingers, “...I’d say nine of us.”

“What? How many guys, including myself?” I asked.

“Including yourself? One.” She smiled and turned back to her work. “See you there.”

Eight women with just me as the lone guy? And on Valentine’s Day? I gulped and cursed my deficient radar.

I had just walked into a trap.