The Rosie Project by Graeme Simsion Read Free Book Online

correct?”
    “More or less, sir.”
    What can I say about this sort of rule? I was prepared to keep my jacket on throughout the meal. The restaurant would presumably be air-conditioned to a temperature compatible with the requirement.
    I continued toward the restaurant entrance, but the official blocked my path. “I’m sorry. Perhaps I wasn’t clear. You need to wear a jacket.”
    “I’m wearing a jacket.”
    “I’m afraid we require something a little more formal, sir.”
    The hotel employee indicated his own jacket as an example. In defense of what followed, I submit the Oxford English Dictionary (Compact, 2nd Edition) definition of jacket : “1(a) An outer garment for the upper part of the body.”
    I also note that the word jacket appears on the care instructionsfor my relatively new and perfectly clean Gore-Tex jacket. But it seemed his definition of jacket was limited to “conventional suit jacket.”
    “We would be happy to lend you one, sir. In this style.”
    “You have a supply of jackets? In every possible size?” I did not add that the need to maintain such an inventory was surely evidence of their failure to communicate the rule clearly, and that it would be more efficient to improve their wording or abandon the rule altogether. Nor did I mention that the cost of jacket purchase and cleaning must add to the price of their meals. Did their customers know that they were subsidizing a jacket warehouse?
    “I wouldn’t know about that, sir,” he said. “Let me organize a jacket.”
    Needless to say I was uncomfortable at the idea of being redressed in an item of public clothing of dubious cleanliness. For a few moments, I was overwhelmed by the sheer unreasonableness of the situation. I was already under stress, preparing for the second encounter with a woman who might become my life partner. And now the institution that I was paying to supply us with a meal—the service provider who should surely be doing everything possible to make me comfortable—was putting arbitrary obstacles in my way. My Gore-Tex jacket, the high-technology garment that had protected me in rain and snowstorms, was being irrationally, unfairly, and obstructively contrasted with the official’s essentially decorative woolen equivalent. I had paid $1,015 for it, including $120 extra for the customized reflective yellow. I outlined my argument.
    “My jacket is superior to yours by all reasonable criteria: impermeability to water, visibility in low light, storage capacity.” I unzipped the jacket to display the internal pockets and continued, “Speed of drying, resistance to food stains, hood . . .”
    The official was still showing no interpretable reaction, although I had almost certainly raised my voice.
    “Vastly superior tensile strength . . .”
    To illustrate this last point, I took the lapel of the employee’s jacket in my hands. I obviously had no intention of tearing it, but I was suddenly grabbed from behind by an unknown person who attempted to throw me to the ground. I automatically responded with a safe, low-impact throw to disable him without dislodging my glasses. The term low impact applies to a martial arts practitioner who knows how to fall. This person did not and landed heavily.
    I turned to see him: he was large and angry. In order to prevent further violence, I was forced to sit on him.
    “Get the fuck off me. I’ll fucking kill you,” he said.
    On that basis, it seemed illogical to grant his request. At that point another man arrived and tried to drag me off. Concerned that Thug Number One would carry out his threat, I had no choice but to disable Thug Number Two as well. No one was seriously hurt, but it was a very awkward social situation, and I could feel my mind shutting down.
    Fortunately, Rosie arrived.
    Jacket Man said, apparently in surprise, “Rosie!”
    Obviously he knew her. She looked from him to me and said, “Professor Tillman—Don—what’s going on?”
    “You’re