H is devastated to hear I didn't get a job I recently applied for, one where we would have been working together, thus ensuring that I could stop calling him and leaving threatening voicemails asking where he is and why he hides from his friends. He takes the news personally, even though I'm smiling and telling him I'm actually relieved, because it means I won't have to work on weekends and holidays after all.
"But I would have worked all those shifts for you!" he protests.
"Dude, really, you don't need those extra shifts. And, trust me, I'm glad I didn't get it after all."
"I'm so mad at her!" he exclaims, stomping around like a little kid about to throw a temper tantrum. "I put in a good word for you. I said all these nice things. And then she didn't even hire you!"
"Don't worry about it, really. It's not important anymore."
"She and I are gonna have a little talk," he says mutinously.
"Calm down, child," I say in amusement.
He rubs his hands across his jaw and chin, patting the neat little beard that just recently was a goatee. "Fine. Now I'm going to grow my beard extra-bushy, just to spite her," he says of his supervisor, as I collapse in laughter.