Began the day just post asscrack of dawn and drove out to Middling City U where Yours Truly had an odd conversation with a student receptionist with listening comprehension issues. Apparently all the staff was in a meeting or vaporized and I was awaiting the arrival of my photo subject, a man who works at a top-secret defense contracting site associated with the U. As I am waiting and dropping off work for one who works at the desolate Friday office, I make some chat with the hearing impaired girl who, I am gathering, is probably a gigantic follower of all things sci-fi. Why, You may ask, is that my deducement of her. It had to do with her aerospace engineering studies, her manner of speaking, her sci-fi-looking shirt that would fit into any movie which outfits the femmes aboard a celestial ship of sorts in concurrently fetching (read revealing) yet sturdy and work-ready wear. So we're talking as the man/subject is late and then later yet. She says she's going on to grad studies in all things aerospace and so YT states Oh, you're done. Well, nearly done. She is squinting her eyes. WHAT, she replies. You are done, well, nearly done. Repeat exchange once more. Then I realize that she thinks I've called her dumb so I re-say You are nearly finished. She gets this.
The man arrives.
I have been warned that he's been hard to agree to being photographed, harder to schedule. This shoot was arranged by one of my editors so I only just found this all out yesterday.
He is sweaty and apologizing and says he could not find the building.
I suggest we leave this building and expect an argument but YT has gracefully pointed out that we will have a better time of portrait-making elsewhere. I give the nouveau location and off we speed. He is then late and then later still at the other spot.
I think he's pulled an archetypal male move of not saying he does not know how to get to this new destination. A car pulls up and it's not him.
Ten minutes drift along and then he arrives, saying he ran into someone he knew in the parking lot.
So we're making small talk as I photograph him and he goes into a rant about how his business is super-secret and that he's jetting off a lot to lobby in Washington and we discuss airports. Then he returns to ranting about how the Middling City Daily has misquoted him severely four times and the whole time I'm shooting away, offering some compositional strategies and thinking Uhh, okay, I'll be certain not to misquote you in any photo captions, Mr. Secret.
He wants a jpeg sent to him to prove to some of his colleagues far away that it's not always snowing in the Middling City and then I suggest we do a few portraits outdoors. He declines.
So, I'm thinking Wow, Mr. Secret is kind of kooky for how in h-e-double-hockey-sticks are some images of him standing inside a very neutral building with some very natural and pleasing window light going to prove a damned thing about weather maps in this region.
Moral:
You may be a lobbying scientist but that does not make you a MapQuest or Art scholar.

Scholarly Love.