Fun with microbiology.

Last night, I met Dr. Green, my new part-time co-worker at the bookstore. Dr. Green's a bit older than some of our part-time staff, so I assumed he had a full-time job. Dr. Green told me that he was - get this - a retired microbiologist from Coca-Cola.

So I'm thinking, at first, that he mixed recipes and such. But then I realized that my thinking was off. That would be either a cook's job or a chemist's.

Microbiology is different. And when I put two-and-two together, the conversation became just fascinating.

So then, I asked him, "Was it your job to see what sort of bacteria and germs could live in old Coca-Cola?"

Dr. Green said the biggest problem he ever found was yeast. Of course, he admitted that, if he'd found a culture of something truly heinous, he wouldn't be able to tell me about it - because he'd signed a confidentiality agreement.

"Cool," I asked him excitedly, then I jumped to something else.

"How many single-celled organisms are living in my eyebrows right now?" I asked.

Dr. Green told me that probably hundreds were.

"But you've probably got bigger things to worry about," Dr. Green said. That's microbiologist humor.

So I start asking Dr. Green if he'd be able to help us out if the bookstore was exposed to anthrax or something.

He said he'd be little help in the event of bioterrorism in the bookstore.

"Yeah," I said. "But if I got you a microscope, you'd probably be able to tell us what was making us all sick, right? Like, if the bookstore became THE HOT ZONE or something."

"And that would do you no good at all if we were already exposed," Dr. Green said.

Dr. Green was cool. He's my favorite new employee - just because he's got a Ph. D. in microbiology.

When we left the store, I guided him out of the parking lot in my beat-up Saturn so that his polished, souped-up 2004 silver Corvette wouldn't get scratched.

I knew I picked the wrong field in college. I shoulda been a microbiologist.