The Dangers of Eating Alone

I discovered this afternoon that eating alone in Carleton's bustling basement library isn't as benign an endeavour as I thought it was. It turns out that it can also be taken as a sign that one is susceptible to being scammed by strange, intrusive 19 year olds named "Paul" with no apparent conception of what constitutes 'normal' social behaviour.

Shortly after sitting down to a four-seated table to eat my packed lunch and read an article in our campus newspaper on Stephen Lewis' recent lecture at Carleton (the second time I had picked up "The Charlatan" this semester), I was approached from the side by Paul. At first I thought he was simply an inquisitive, or perhaps lonely, first or second year student with mild acne.

"What's that you're reading?", he said.
"Uh, an article about Stephen Lewis' talk at Carleton", I somewhat cautiously replied.
"Hmm, that sounds interesting. Mind if I join you?"

And so began lunch with Random Paul. Not feeling like a conversation with Random Paul (RP), I decided that giving him the paper might provide him with enough of a distraction for me to eat much lunch in piece, read my course material and be on my way. It turns out it only gave him more ammunition. With RP sitting directly opposite me, though he clearly could have sat in the seat diagonally opposite mine, and with his paper encroaching on my own reading material, he started commenting on various "interesting" articles in front of him.

With my willingness to continue the conversation declining and my aggravation at being disturbed during my time off from studying increasing steadily, he noted that I didn't seem too keen on talking.

"Having a busy day?"
"Yes..."
" What do you study?"
" International affairs.."
"What's that?"

And so on. When he found out the origin of my name, he wanted to know what languages I spoke.

"French and some Italian", I said.
"French - is that what they speak in Norway?"
"Actually, they speak Norwegian..."
"Ohhh..."

He picked up one of the books I had just taken out of the library, and started flipping through the chapters.

"Is this your book?"
"Yes, I just checked it out."
"Hmm...what does this word mean?"
"Fiasco...in the context of policy evaluation (the book's topic), it basically means a poorly planned program involving a massive waste of money."
"Oh."
"For example, the Sponsorship Scandal would be a 'fiasco", I continued.
"Sponsorship? What's that all about?"
"You don't know about the Gomery inquiry?"
"No..."

At this point I became resigned to the fact that this was no ordinary student, (in fact, the conversation above was proof that he was likely wasn't a student at all), and that my bid to politely attempt to demonstrate that I wasn't too keen on talking had failed miserably. I also realized that it was all quite funny and there was no harm in playing along rather than being gruff and walking away (even though that was an appealing option). Nevertheless, I didn't waste anytime packing up my books and tupperware container once I'd finished my lunch.

"Well, I'm heading off", I stated contentedly.
"Oh, what do you have to work on?"
"A final exam".

RP got up from his chair as I was putting on my coat. Not really a good sign.

"Listen, a friend of mine has a business, and he's looking for some sharp people to help him out."
"Uh huh" (Now it's all becoming clear...)
"Can I give him your information?"
"Take care, Paul..." I said, turning away.
"..."

And so ended my unexpected, uncomfortable lunch with Random Paul.