| 10 February 2010
During the mid-70s, with the oil crisis in full bloom and everyone talking about energy conservation, Wally became upset that so many Digesters were leaving lights burning in empty offices. So he issued a decree -- a memo that went to every Digester: “During these parlous times,” he wrote, “it behooves us all to do what we can to save energy. Please, when you leave your offices, take care to see that the lights are off.” (Or something close to that.) ...(click Read More above)The next day, dark and drizzly as I remember, I returned to my office after my daily noontime jog on Digest grounds with fellow editors Jerry Dole and Ben Cheever. The lights in the office were off (thank God for smart secretaries! Fran Pecora, bless your heart!), and since I meant only to write out a check and then go to the bank, I didn’t bother to turn them on. I sat at my desk in the darkness, hunched over my checkbook, scribbling some figures. And suddenly I had a feeling that someone was watching me. I looked up. A tall, familiar form was filling my doorway. It was Wally.
“Um ... Peter,” he said, stepping forward. “You don’t ... you don’t have to work in the dark.”
I started babbling an inane explanation -- “Wally, I was just ... I was just ... you see....” -- but he didn’t want to hear it and began backing away. A mistake. In those days I biked to work every morning, and parked my bike in my office, just to the left of the doorway. Wally backed into the bike, and it crashed to the floor. Wally’s arms shot into the air. His eyes bulged. He turned away and fled down the hallway.
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