Hey, thanks for coming out here. Yeah, we’ve been having trouble with this bathroom sink. So, uh, you know, have at it.

I’m still here, by the way. Not, like, here here—I’ve backed up enough to give you what feels like a healthy amount of personal space. But I am still close enough to watch you work on the sink. Not because I think you need supervision or because I don’t trust you or anything. I guess because you might have questions? Although if I was the type of person who could provide intelligent answers to questions about sinks, I probably would not have needed to call you in the first place.

So, yeah, I guess I have no idea why I’m still standing here, but for some reason it feels like it would be ruder to leave, especially now that I’ve already stayed here for what feels like between six seconds and an hour. So I’ll stick around.

I have a job, too, just to be clear. It’s just that my job is the type where I can work from home and step away from my computer at 3:17 p.m. on a Tuesday to watch you do your job without causing a problem. But please don’t ask me anything specific about what I do, as every second I spend watching you work makes me more insecure about how it doesn’t involve fixing anything that exists in the physical world.

Oh, hey, do you want water? Is plumbing the type of job that makes you thirsty? Or does it give you a weird aversion to water since you’re around it so much? Either way, just rest assured that I know where we keep the water in our house, and I will offer you some at least three more times while you’re working, even if you keep saying no because I can’t think of any other way to be helpful.

I guess we could just make small talk? People love answering banal questions while performing complex tasks, right? Not that I have any clue whether or not these repairs are complex. I’d ask you, but that would just reveal how little I know about plumbing, and I don’t want you and your cool plumber friends to laugh about me at the swanky club I assume you’re meeting up at once you finish here.

So, do you like—oh, nope, forget I hesitantly started asking you anything. That wrench looks very intimidating, so I will assume whatever you’re doing with it requires absolute concentration. We have a toolbox as well, if you need any other tools, like a hammer or three nails of alarmingly different sizes or… no, that’s it, actually. That’s our entire toolbox.

Everything okay? Yeah, I figured. I was just starting to feel a little creepy staring at you in silence, so I opened my mouth to say words. And that made everything better, right? Because we’ve confirmed that everything is okay? And that you still don’t need water? Or, like, a Pop-Tart or Cheez-Its or something? Actually, we’re running low on Cheez-Its, so forget I said that last one.

Oh, so the sink is all set? Great! And what was the problem? It was something complicated enough to merit calling you but easy enough for you to explain to me so I can fix it myself next time, right? Because if it was anything other than that, I might have a panic attack.

Well, thanks again for your help. And are we friends now? I’m genuinely asking—I still have no idea how making friends as an adult works and wasn’t sure if this counted. No? Well, all right then. Have fun at the swanky club, and please tell everyone how charming I was.