"Yeah," she said. "You sound a bit whiny." This was the first time we had gotten together since she played designated driver. Rather than put her through another drunken tirade I thought she would appreciate wings on the water at my second favorite bar.
"The market sucks. It's been almost three months. I've had a few nibbles but no real bites." I said dipping the wings into the tasty blue cheese.
"It's not whiny crybaby whiny but it still sounds like you're whining. Holy shit these wings are good!" She did a little wiggle in her chair as she covered her mouth with her napkin.
"Did you try the HR contact at my company?"
"I got shot down. I decided to be honest and let her know that I was fired. She couldn't get off the phone fast enough. It was like 'Oh...hey...yeah I forgot I have another meeting with someone else who is going to get this job. Sorry.' Meh. There are other jobs out there. I have the comfort of knowing I was true to myself."
"Seriously?"
"Yeah, I mean she didn't even give me five minutes..."
"No. No. No!" She interrupted looking like a one cheeked chipmunk. "You told her you had been fired?!?"
"Of course I did. She asked. What am I going to do? Lie to her now then be fired later for lying to her?"
"You don't have to lie. You tell them that after ten years you felt that it was time for new challenges."
"New challenges like what? Job Hunting?" We both laughed a bit. "You sure I can't say I was fired by a guy with a small cock trying to prove he's somebody to people who don't care?"
"No," she said dipping another wing. "That's probably not in your best interest either."
"You do realize this is what I meant by 'Whine' & Wings, right?" I said making air quotes.
"Nice. You're ok, right?". She said wiping her hands with a napkin.
"I'm all right. I have more contingency plans than Batman. I mean this goes on too much longer and things could get bad but right now I'm ok."
"What about that girl you talked about?" she asked changing the subject. "What about the moment you mentioned?"
I looked up and caught a quick glimpse of myself in the mirror behind the bottles again. This time I saw a man who had laid his soul bare. I saw a man who had made a decision and was comfortable with the direction it had taken him.
"I got shot down. She asked about forever. I decided to be honest and let her know I couldn't promise forever when I didn't know what the next day would bring."
"Sorry," she said finishing her first glass, "I think it's time we replace the whine with wine. Agreed?"
"As long as you don't think I'm some guy with a small cock trying to prove he's somebody to people who don't care we'll be fine."
She put down her wine glass and grabbed her purse.
"Seriously?!?" I asked with eyes wide open.
"No, I don't think that would be in my best interest because there are still tasty wings left and my glass is empty." she said doing a little wiggle in her chair. "Bar tender," she said smiling, "more wine!"
Monday, December 26, 2016
Monday, December 19, 2016
People of the Moment
"It's not enough," she whispered.
"I can give you right now," I started. "I can give you this moment. I have no idea what forever holds but I know that I am here right now."
"It's not enough," she repeated quietly.
"There is no promise of tomorrow or forever but there is now. All I'm asking for is this minute. I would love for you to forget about everything else and just give me now. Can you do that? Can you let me keep you company for a little while?"
I had watched promises of forever fall apart in a few years, sometimes a few weeks. As long as I was willing to accept the consequences of my actions I found that the moment rarely disappointed.
I always seemed to lose the moment when I chased forever. I became complacent when I knew something would always be there. I had watched people chase the big picture and ignore the little things. The thought process seemed to be that the overall end justified the means. I had watched the compromises come back to haunt them in the end.
People I know that live for the moment appreciate each and every second like it were their last. They ask themselves the question, 'If everything were to end for me right now and someone were to judge me for my last few moments how would I be remembered?'
Big picture people are surprised when couples break up over what looks to be an innocuous mistake from the outside. People who live for the moment see all of the small mistakes that lead to the final break up.
People of the moment move with the knowledge that the future is uncertain but you should prepare just in case you make it and things work out.
"I think I deserve the promise of forever," she said. "I think that this would be cheapening things. I think by avoiding forever you are avoiding building a future with someone. I need to know that I can count on you for that future. It's not that I can't keep you company for a a little while. I don't want to.
"If you can promise me forever," she said resolutely, "I can give you this moment."
I covered my mouth with my hand and stared at the table. I could see the flickering candle through my empty wine glass. The moon drew my eyes toward the patio beyond the French doors.
The moment was gone and so was I. We were no match for her forever. I had accepted the consequences of my actions but as I drove home alone in silence I couldn't help but feel a little disappointed.
Monday, December 12, 2016
Ramble
"What the fuck?" Asked Derich. "You were just going to let me ramble? You were going to just let me bitch about having a job?"
"You were venting," I responded waving my hands in the air. "I wanted you to get what was bothering you off your chest."
"This," he said wagging his finger, "this is the shit I'm talking about. You are deep in your own head, my man." He was now pacing back and forth.
"You need to do one of two things now. One call that friend in California and start writing or two call your boy in Hartford and get on that finisher job."
"Finishing job." I clarified
"What?"
"Finishing job. This is the job with which I had hoped to finish my career. I would have worked at my former job for the next five years and then go into my next gig with a certain level of gravitas due to my age and career history."
"Whatever..."
"Wait a minute. You were just telling me how you were happy to have some time to yourself but I have to get a job right away? I don't get it. I'm going to be ok, for a little while at least. Then something good will happen. It always does."
He sat on the couch and looked out the window of my living room. The late September sun was streaming through the window. It was still warm out but strangely you could tell it was going to be a rough winter.
"You are a better man than I am." He said quietly. "As much as I was hoping to get the axe and the hush money I need the job. We're not dying but we're in deep."
I knew things were tight but opted not to say anything. As loud as Derich was he still had his private spaces.
"I get it. Look at my house. Look at the way I live. I can take the hit for a while and be ok. I didn't think I would still be here at this age. I didn't think I'd live passed 40. I look at every day as a gift. I look at every moment as a new challenge that I can conquer.
"I have an idea of what I need and what I have to do to make it happen. I'm going to be all right. So are you."
"What do you mean?" He said as the sun beamed off of his face.
"You asked why I let you ramble. I can point you in a specific direction and you get there with no problem or I can let you just go on until you find it yourself. If you find your own way you can figure out the mistakes to avoid and you can pass that knowledge on to people who need it."
"What the fuck..."
"We all have different paths. This is me rambling on mine and I'm going to be all right."
"You were venting," I responded waving my hands in the air. "I wanted you to get what was bothering you off your chest."
"This," he said wagging his finger, "this is the shit I'm talking about. You are deep in your own head, my man." He was now pacing back and forth.
"You need to do one of two things now. One call that friend in California and start writing or two call your boy in Hartford and get on that finisher job."
"Finishing job." I clarified
"What?"
"Finishing job. This is the job with which I had hoped to finish my career. I would have worked at my former job for the next five years and then go into my next gig with a certain level of gravitas due to my age and career history."
"Whatever..."
"Wait a minute. You were just telling me how you were happy to have some time to yourself but I have to get a job right away? I don't get it. I'm going to be ok, for a little while at least. Then something good will happen. It always does."
He sat on the couch and looked out the window of my living room. The late September sun was streaming through the window. It was still warm out but strangely you could tell it was going to be a rough winter.
"You are a better man than I am." He said quietly. "As much as I was hoping to get the axe and the hush money I need the job. We're not dying but we're in deep."
I knew things were tight but opted not to say anything. As loud as Derich was he still had his private spaces.
"I get it. Look at my house. Look at the way I live. I can take the hit for a while and be ok. I didn't think I would still be here at this age. I didn't think I'd live passed 40. I look at every day as a gift. I look at every moment as a new challenge that I can conquer.
"I have an idea of what I need and what I have to do to make it happen. I'm going to be all right. So are you."
"What do you mean?" He said as the sun beamed off of his face.
"You asked why I let you ramble. I can point you in a specific direction and you get there with no problem or I can let you just go on until you find it yourself. If you find your own way you can figure out the mistakes to avoid and you can pass that knowledge on to people who need it."
"What the fuck..."
"We all have different paths. This is me rambling on mine and I'm going to be all right."
Monday, December 5, 2016
Basketball
"And then," seethed Derich, "these clowns told me that they were actually EXPANDING my division!"
We were getting together for the first time in a while. His summer plans didn't quite work out.
It had been a long couple of months. Derich's company had decided he was far too valuable of an asset to let go. They had expanded his division, increased his responsibilities, and given him more people to manage. The only part missing was the salary increase.
"Oh, Derich," he said mocking his bosses speech pattern, "once the Q4 earnings are out we'll have a better idea of how to take care of you. We took a beating the last few quarters but we know you'll help us turn it around."
"God damn it!!" He continued in his own voice. "I was doing just enough to make sure they would walk me out! Jacobson was killing himself so I was sure they were going to keep him."
"Who is Jacobson?" I asked while he paced back in forth in my living room.
"He's the other team lead. They hate him. He doesn't play basketball during lunch. He's in early. He leaves late. He eats lunch at his desk. He does good work but he's not a team guy." He looked out the window while the sun set on my porch.
"We used to tell him to loosen up."
"So what team did Jacobson get?" I asked out of curiosity even though I already knew the answer.
"He was the first one they walked out. At 3:50 they told him they had a 4:00 meeting about expanding the team leadership position. By 4:05 they were walking him out the door.
"They called me in at 4:15 and I was ready, man. I had already told Karen that we could probably coast the month of August and some of September. I sat there with a big smile on my face and then they told me that they were giving me most of Jacobson's team."
I just put my face in my hands.
"So let me see if I can get this right," I said trying not to laugh out loud. "You put your feet up on your desk, play the occasional game of basketball with the boss, follow the team plan and they promoted you. This Jacobson guy doubles down on the work, eats lunch at his desk, BUT he's not a team player so they walked him out?"
I shook my head. Derich looked out the window as the silent truth blanketed the room.
"Blah, blah, blah. Enough about me," he said changing the subject. You were supposed to have that meeting about your job today. How'd it go?"
"Well," I said smiling. "I don't play basketball."
We were getting together for the first time in a while. His summer plans didn't quite work out.
It had been a long couple of months. Derich's company had decided he was far too valuable of an asset to let go. They had expanded his division, increased his responsibilities, and given him more people to manage. The only part missing was the salary increase.
"Oh, Derich," he said mocking his bosses speech pattern, "once the Q4 earnings are out we'll have a better idea of how to take care of you. We took a beating the last few quarters but we know you'll help us turn it around."
"God damn it!!" He continued in his own voice. "I was doing just enough to make sure they would walk me out! Jacobson was killing himself so I was sure they were going to keep him."
"Who is Jacobson?" I asked while he paced back in forth in my living room.
"He's the other team lead. They hate him. He doesn't play basketball during lunch. He's in early. He leaves late. He eats lunch at his desk. He does good work but he's not a team guy." He looked out the window while the sun set on my porch.
"We used to tell him to loosen up."
"So what team did Jacobson get?" I asked out of curiosity even though I already knew the answer.
"He was the first one they walked out. At 3:50 they told him they had a 4:00 meeting about expanding the team leadership position. By 4:05 they were walking him out the door.
"They called me in at 4:15 and I was ready, man. I had already told Karen that we could probably coast the month of August and some of September. I sat there with a big smile on my face and then they told me that they were giving me most of Jacobson's team."
I just put my face in my hands.
"So let me see if I can get this right," I said trying not to laugh out loud. "You put your feet up on your desk, play the occasional game of basketball with the boss, follow the team plan and they promoted you. This Jacobson guy doubles down on the work, eats lunch at his desk, BUT he's not a team player so they walked him out?"
I shook my head. Derich looked out the window as the silent truth blanketed the room.
"Blah, blah, blah. Enough about me," he said changing the subject. You were supposed to have that meeting about your job today. How'd it go?"
"Well," I said smiling. "I don't play basketball."
Monday, November 28, 2016
What Type Of Man
It was March 2003. I stood in the driveway of the exclusive dealership waiting for a ride from someone in my office. I had just been screamed at for not providing a car that was up to the client's standards.
The conversation included comments like 'Do you know who I am?' & 'Do you know how much I made last year?' None of that really mattered. As I listened to this person vent I realized that all they had was their money. I hated being yelled at but I felt bad because this person felt their money put me beneath them.
I decided that wasn't the type of man I wanted to be even if I was successful at the job. I tried to picture in my head what I wanted. Yes I did want a nicer car but I wanted it for safety and reliability.
I was driving an hour fifteen minutes each way to work everyday. I had seen my share of accidents made worse by cars that couldn't cope with the collision. I didn't need to have something nice. I needed to have something safe and reliable.
My flip phone rang with a number I didn't recognize.
"Hello?" I answered with a half question.
"Hi," said an extremely pleasant voice. "It's Julie from The Yard."
I took a deep breath. Julie was a sweet quiet little red head who could drink most of us under the table, dance all night, and still make it to work 15 minutes before her shift was supposed to start. This was exactly the voice I needed to hear.
"Hey, Jules. What's going on?"
"I have kind of a strange question for you."
"Shoot."
"Are you seeing anyone right now?"
I felt the slick smile cut across my face.
"Why no, Jules. I'm not what's on your mind?" I could barely contain my enthusiasm. It's one thing when you spend time chasing after someone and they finally say yes. The world is a completely different place when you get a call out of the blue and someone expresses interest.
"Oh that's awesome," she started matching my enthusiasm, "because I have a friend who I think would just love you."
The 'I have a friend' speech is almost as ambitious as the 'I Have A Dream' speech. I was going to say no. I had a preconceived notion of what this girl was going to look like. I had a thought that this was going to be a disaster. Then I took a deep breath.
Jules may not have been interested but she thought I was good enough to introduce to one of her friends. My momentary lapse of enthusiasm was gone.
It was time for a shake up. Up until then I had a basic idea of what I wanted in life but there was no clear direction. Why not take a chance?
"What night works for you?" I asked remembering I was happy someone expressed interest.
"Tomorrow at The Yard. We'll meet you there around 8."
"Sounds like a plan."
I hung up the phone as my ride arrived. I decided not to prejudge. I decided to take a chance. Before the phone call someone was just yelling at me because they had prejudged who I was without knowing me. Who was I to do that to someone else? That wasn't the type of man I wanted to be.
The conversation included comments like 'Do you know who I am?' & 'Do you know how much I made last year?' None of that really mattered. As I listened to this person vent I realized that all they had was their money. I hated being yelled at but I felt bad because this person felt their money put me beneath them.
I decided that wasn't the type of man I wanted to be even if I was successful at the job. I tried to picture in my head what I wanted. Yes I did want a nicer car but I wanted it for safety and reliability.
I was driving an hour fifteen minutes each way to work everyday. I had seen my share of accidents made worse by cars that couldn't cope with the collision. I didn't need to have something nice. I needed to have something safe and reliable.
My flip phone rang with a number I didn't recognize.
"Hello?" I answered with a half question.
"Hi," said an extremely pleasant voice. "It's Julie from The Yard."
I took a deep breath. Julie was a sweet quiet little red head who could drink most of us under the table, dance all night, and still make it to work 15 minutes before her shift was supposed to start. This was exactly the voice I needed to hear.
"Hey, Jules. What's going on?"
"I have kind of a strange question for you."
"Shoot."
"Are you seeing anyone right now?"
I felt the slick smile cut across my face.
"Why no, Jules. I'm not what's on your mind?" I could barely contain my enthusiasm. It's one thing when you spend time chasing after someone and they finally say yes. The world is a completely different place when you get a call out of the blue and someone expresses interest.
"Oh that's awesome," she started matching my enthusiasm, "because I have a friend who I think would just love you."
The 'I have a friend' speech is almost as ambitious as the 'I Have A Dream' speech. I was going to say no. I had a preconceived notion of what this girl was going to look like. I had a thought that this was going to be a disaster. Then I took a deep breath.
Jules may not have been interested but she thought I was good enough to introduce to one of her friends. My momentary lapse of enthusiasm was gone.
It was time for a shake up. Up until then I had a basic idea of what I wanted in life but there was no clear direction. Why not take a chance?
"What night works for you?" I asked remembering I was happy someone expressed interest.
"Tomorrow at The Yard. We'll meet you there around 8."
"Sounds like a plan."
I hung up the phone as my ride arrived. I decided not to prejudge. I decided to take a chance. Before the phone call someone was just yelling at me because they had prejudged who I was without knowing me. Who was I to do that to someone else? That wasn't the type of man I wanted to be.
Monday, November 21, 2016
Fog
I was coasting. I was coasting in life. Going to sleep early and drinking the proper amount of water had paid off. It wasn't just something for drinking too much on a random weeknight. Drinking enough water and getting enough sleep had changed my general mindset. There was minimal fog and even less pain. It was going to be a good day. I knew there wasn't much time left at the job so I had to make a decision.
I decided that they had to fire me. I wouldn't walk out. Walking out wouldn't cut it. I couldn't just quit. In my mind you don't quit. You stop doing things that don't work for you. You refocus your energy on things that move you forward. You do these things but you don't quit.
I could have crumbled when they told me that after 10 years I didn't deserve to be there but, I didn't. I could have broken when they told me that I was (and had always been in their eyes) unfit for the job but, I didn't.
I realized that these comments were made by a person lashing out and making choices based on fear. I was ok. My mind was clear. The goal was to hold on to the job for as long as I could. Rather than throw a wrench in the system I would do my best and make it work for me as long as it could.
Going to sleep early and drinking the proper amount of water had paid off. There was minimal fog. Coasting wouldn't cut it any more. It was time to stop before I ran aground. The fog was dissipating and the path was becoming clear.
Monday, July 11, 2016
Day 114 - Happy Birthday
"Did you just leave another birthday message?" the kid asked with his coffee in hand.
"Yes," I said stepping out of the quiet room of the office. Every other room had walls seemingly made of paper. If you sat quietly while there was a meeting going on in the adjoining room you could hear almost everything down to the typing on the keyboard.
I had a friend who had access to the mother's room in the office. When we were sure it wasn't busy I would swoop in and record a song for a friend and send it via text. I did this when I didn't have time driving in in the morning. I liked to wait until afternoon because sometimes the morning voice didn't cut it.
Lately I was so deflated in the evenings that they would know my heart just wasn't into it.
"That's nice. I only have a few people who remember my birthday," he said taking a swig of his afternoon pick me up. "You must get a shitload of calls and texts on your birthday."
"Funny you should mention that," I said watching the blue bar slowly crawl across my screen. "I had about five people who reached out to say happy birthday this year."
"Five?" he said choking back a cough. "You leave two to three messages a week. I think I've heard you call three people in one day. How does that happen?"
"I've been off twit/face/sound/space for a while so people tend to forget. Most people wait for a hint from social media then they chime in. The only place I might be lower on the totem pole might be here."
"That's some sad shit," he said leaning against the wall. "It's almost like you're a second class citizen. When is your birthday anyway?"
"It was a few months ago. I was actually at a wedding with people who had no idea. I had given them hints a few weeks before but no one caught on. It was a wedding. I didn't think much of it. My Mom and my sister remembered. That's all that mattered.
"How's the coffee?" I asked hoping to change the subject.
"Almost as shitty as the people who don't call or write to you on your birthday. Well happy belated birthday."
"Thank you and happy birthday to you, too." He looked surprised. "Don't be shocked. It's this weekend. They post the office birthdays in the kitchen near the coffee machine. They feel it will increase office morale."
"I never noticed it. Thanks." Said the kid as he walked back to his desk.
I had one more message to send. I scrolled back through a few years of texts to see if they had wished me a happy birthday in the past. I saw that I was always the wellwisher.
I decided to just send a quick HBD message. After that last conversation I was so deflated that if I tried to sing they would know my heart just wasn't into it.
"Yes," I said stepping out of the quiet room of the office. Every other room had walls seemingly made of paper. If you sat quietly while there was a meeting going on in the adjoining room you could hear almost everything down to the typing on the keyboard.
I had a friend who had access to the mother's room in the office. When we were sure it wasn't busy I would swoop in and record a song for a friend and send it via text. I did this when I didn't have time driving in in the morning. I liked to wait until afternoon because sometimes the morning voice didn't cut it.
Lately I was so deflated in the evenings that they would know my heart just wasn't into it.
"That's nice. I only have a few people who remember my birthday," he said taking a swig of his afternoon pick me up. "You must get a shitload of calls and texts on your birthday."
"Funny you should mention that," I said watching the blue bar slowly crawl across my screen. "I had about five people who reached out to say happy birthday this year."
"Five?" he said choking back a cough. "You leave two to three messages a week. I think I've heard you call three people in one day. How does that happen?"
"I've been off twit/face/sound/space for a while so people tend to forget. Most people wait for a hint from social media then they chime in. The only place I might be lower on the totem pole might be here."
"That's some sad shit," he said leaning against the wall. "It's almost like you're a second class citizen. When is your birthday anyway?"
"It was a few months ago. I was actually at a wedding with people who had no idea. I had given them hints a few weeks before but no one caught on. It was a wedding. I didn't think much of it. My Mom and my sister remembered. That's all that mattered.
"How's the coffee?" I asked hoping to change the subject.
"Almost as shitty as the people who don't call or write to you on your birthday. Well happy belated birthday."
"Thank you and happy birthday to you, too." He looked surprised. "Don't be shocked. It's this weekend. They post the office birthdays in the kitchen near the coffee machine. They feel it will increase office morale."
"I never noticed it. Thanks." Said the kid as he walked back to his desk.
I had one more message to send. I scrolled back through a few years of texts to see if they had wished me a happy birthday in the past. I saw that I was always the wellwisher.
I decided to just send a quick HBD message. After that last conversation I was so deflated that if I tried to sing they would know my heart just wasn't into it.
Monday, July 4, 2016
Day 113 - Responsibilities
"I remember asking my Dad for something. I don't remember exactly what it was but I know it had a bit of a price tag on it," I said as the car negotiated the curved exit ramp with ease.
"Turn right at the light, then when you hit the first stop sign turn left.
"I do remember that he didn't say no. I was fifteen so he knew I wasn't going to take no for an answer any way. I thought the money would just come from somewhere. I didn't know any better. His answer, though," I paused "his answer was even better than no."
"The left right here?" V asked as we got to the stop sign.
"Yes."
The night air felt good. Had it been twenty years ago this ride would have been made at 2:30 in the morning. I was surprised to look at the dashboard and see that it was only 9:30 at night.
This made me happy. If I drank the right amount of water and got to bed within the hour there was a possibility that I wouldn't be dealing with a raging hangover in the morning.
"I remember saying something like 'I'm part of this family so I should have a say in things!' He just looked at me and said 'You can have a say. I have no problem with that. The only thing you have to do is come up with enough money to cover the mortgage, pay the phone bill, electric bill, gas bill, and put food on the table for the month. Once you are able to shoulder that responsibility you can have a say.'"
"Sounds like a smart man," she said.
"He was," I said reflecting. "He was. I didn't have the answer. I just stood there dumbfounded. That is when I came up with the first plan."
"Speaking of plans, when were you planning to tell me which house is yours?"
"Sorry. It's the little brown colonial on the left."
"Plans Change," whispered a voice in the back of my head as we pulled into my driveway. I sat up a little bit straighter in my seat. I wasn't jolted sober but I was jolted alert. I remembered the last time I had a rock solid plan. I remembered how my feet were trapped in stone while the machines hammered my soul into the floor. I remembered that plans borne of pain play out poorly.
"Are you going to be ok?" She asked, noticing my back was a little bit straighter.
"I'm not going to read about you being found dead in your house a few days from now, am I? You're not going to fall asleep on your porch are you?"
"You could always come up and tuck me in," I said feeling the slick smile cut across my face, "BUT this wasn't a hook up call."
She put her head down and smiled.
"You're right," she said still smiling. "This was not a hook up call. Sleep well you beautiful black man."
"Safe travels. Shoot me a text when you get home so I know you're ok."
"You've got it," she said with a little salute. "and keep me in mind if you decide to leave this job. Sorry about your kitty."
"Thank you," I said stepping out of the car.
The little convertible roared off into the darkness. The night air felt good. Twenty years ago I would have been worried about a raging hangover. I knew I was going to get a good night's sleep. I knew I would wake up the next day and have no problem with the mortgage, the phone bill, the electric bill, the gas bill, and putting food on the table. It's amazing how time and good direction can teach you to shoulder the necessary responsibilities.
"Turn right at the light, then when you hit the first stop sign turn left.
"I do remember that he didn't say no. I was fifteen so he knew I wasn't going to take no for an answer any way. I thought the money would just come from somewhere. I didn't know any better. His answer, though," I paused "his answer was even better than no."
"The left right here?" V asked as we got to the stop sign.
"Yes."
The night air felt good. Had it been twenty years ago this ride would have been made at 2:30 in the morning. I was surprised to look at the dashboard and see that it was only 9:30 at night.
This made me happy. If I drank the right amount of water and got to bed within the hour there was a possibility that I wouldn't be dealing with a raging hangover in the morning.
"I remember saying something like 'I'm part of this family so I should have a say in things!' He just looked at me and said 'You can have a say. I have no problem with that. The only thing you have to do is come up with enough money to cover the mortgage, pay the phone bill, electric bill, gas bill, and put food on the table for the month. Once you are able to shoulder that responsibility you can have a say.'"
"Sounds like a smart man," she said.
"He was," I said reflecting. "He was. I didn't have the answer. I just stood there dumbfounded. That is when I came up with the first plan."
"Speaking of plans, when were you planning to tell me which house is yours?"
"Sorry. It's the little brown colonial on the left."
"Plans Change," whispered a voice in the back of my head as we pulled into my driveway. I sat up a little bit straighter in my seat. I wasn't jolted sober but I was jolted alert. I remembered the last time I had a rock solid plan. I remembered how my feet were trapped in stone while the machines hammered my soul into the floor. I remembered that plans borne of pain play out poorly.
"Are you going to be ok?" She asked, noticing my back was a little bit straighter.
"I'm not going to read about you being found dead in your house a few days from now, am I? You're not going to fall asleep on your porch are you?"
"You could always come up and tuck me in," I said feeling the slick smile cut across my face, "BUT this wasn't a hook up call."
She put her head down and smiled.
"You're right," she said still smiling. "This was not a hook up call. Sleep well you beautiful black man."
"Safe travels. Shoot me a text when you get home so I know you're ok."
"You've got it," she said with a little salute. "and keep me in mind if you decide to leave this job. Sorry about your kitty."
"Thank you," I said stepping out of the car.
The little convertible roared off into the darkness. The night air felt good. Twenty years ago I would have been worried about a raging hangover. I knew I was going to get a good night's sleep. I knew I would wake up the next day and have no problem with the mortgage, the phone bill, the electric bill, the gas bill, and putting food on the table. It's amazing how time and good direction can teach you to shoulder the necessary responsibilities.
Monday, June 27, 2016
Day 112 - Derailed
"She died in my arms," I said through the tears. "I'm not out drinking because of the job. I'm sad because I had to put my cat to sleep." I covered my face with my hands. I was too drunk and sad to be embarrassed.
"I'm so sorry," V said touching my shoulder.
"I was so derailed by my own mess..." I started. "But she knew she was loved." I finished, wiping my eyes with one of the bar napkins I grabbed before we left. "That's the important thing. She knew she was loved."
I looked at the light of the moon in my lap. It was a warm April evening and the sky was clear. The little sports car exploded once we reached the highway. Her hair flowed in the wind. She had put the top down on the convertible because she didn't want me to throw up in her car if I got too sick on the ride home.
"Is that what you meant by the wrong decision?" She asked while her hair whipped around her face. "Because there was nothing you could do for her. She was clearly suffering. You said it yourself, she knew she was loved."
I stared at the light in my lap and felt a few hot tears burn down my cheeks.
"I just wish I could have done more. Maybe I was too busy being angry. Maybe she absorbed the bitterness that's been coursing through my veins lately. Maybe..."
"You are the worst drunk ever," she said shaking her head. I looked at her sideways for a second and then we both started laughing.
"I don't mean to sound crass. I know what you've been through. I had to put Kayla down last year but oh my god you are a horrible drunk."
"It's the wine," I started.
"That leads to the whining," she finished. We both laughed again. I felt a bit more of the heaviness leave my chest. Kayla was her companion. I wasn't a big dog person but Kayla liked me and I liked her. She had seen my friend through a rocky marriage, a rough divorce, and a later in life career transition. I could relate to her world of hurt.
"I guess I'm in for the long haul." She said. "How far is your Mom's place from here? 40 - 45 minutes?"
I looked over in surprise.
"You were going to drive me all the way back to the boondocks?!? Wow you are a friend. I'm actually two exits up. I have a little crash pad for emergencies." I did the slow motion face wipe again.
"Being on the road two to three hours a day was killing me so I set up a place where I could chill out if I needed to, like tonight. It's nothing special. It's like a dilapidated frat house with less testosterone and more responsibility."
"Oh nice," she mocked. "You're pretending to be an adult."
"If I could afford to be an adult I'd be happier but that's all part of the plan."
"You were supposed to tell me about this 'plan'."
I looked from the moonlight in my lap to the moon in the sky. I wondered if Kayla and my kitty were running through the clouds keeping each other company. I was trying to figure out how I got were I was. I was still drunk but I wasn't as sad or embarrassed any more. Even in this fluid state I decided to fortify my resolve.
"I'm sorry. I was derailed by my own mess. Let me tell you about my plan for love. Let me tell you about my plan for personal responsibility."
"I'm so sorry," V said touching my shoulder.
"I was so derailed by my own mess..." I started. "But she knew she was loved." I finished, wiping my eyes with one of the bar napkins I grabbed before we left. "That's the important thing. She knew she was loved."
I looked at the light of the moon in my lap. It was a warm April evening and the sky was clear. The little sports car exploded once we reached the highway. Her hair flowed in the wind. She had put the top down on the convertible because she didn't want me to throw up in her car if I got too sick on the ride home.
"Is that what you meant by the wrong decision?" She asked while her hair whipped around her face. "Because there was nothing you could do for her. She was clearly suffering. You said it yourself, she knew she was loved."
I stared at the light in my lap and felt a few hot tears burn down my cheeks.
"I just wish I could have done more. Maybe I was too busy being angry. Maybe she absorbed the bitterness that's been coursing through my veins lately. Maybe..."
"You are the worst drunk ever," she said shaking her head. I looked at her sideways for a second and then we both started laughing.
"I don't mean to sound crass. I know what you've been through. I had to put Kayla down last year but oh my god you are a horrible drunk."
"It's the wine," I started.
"That leads to the whining," she finished. We both laughed again. I felt a bit more of the heaviness leave my chest. Kayla was her companion. I wasn't a big dog person but Kayla liked me and I liked her. She had seen my friend through a rocky marriage, a rough divorce, and a later in life career transition. I could relate to her world of hurt.
"I guess I'm in for the long haul." She said. "How far is your Mom's place from here? 40 - 45 minutes?"
I looked over in surprise.
"You were going to drive me all the way back to the boondocks?!? Wow you are a friend. I'm actually two exits up. I have a little crash pad for emergencies." I did the slow motion face wipe again.
"Being on the road two to three hours a day was killing me so I set up a place where I could chill out if I needed to, like tonight. It's nothing special. It's like a dilapidated frat house with less testosterone and more responsibility."
"Oh nice," she mocked. "You're pretending to be an adult."
"If I could afford to be an adult I'd be happier but that's all part of the plan."
"You were supposed to tell me about this 'plan'."
I looked from the moonlight in my lap to the moon in the sky. I wondered if Kayla and my kitty were running through the clouds keeping each other company. I was trying to figure out how I got were I was. I was still drunk but I wasn't as sad or embarrassed any more. Even in this fluid state I decided to fortify my resolve.
"I'm sorry. I was derailed by my own mess. Let me tell you about my plan for love. Let me tell you about my plan for personal responsibility."
Monday, June 20, 2016
Day 111 - The Quiet Place
"Just ring the bell when you arrive and we'll unlock the door for you." I slowly hung up the phone and looked at the kitchen floor. My happy healthy kitty was gone. She had gotten progressively worse since her last two visits to the vet.
"She's so soft," they would always say. This was usually followed by "I'm so sorry."
I had tried everything I could to keep her comfortable. I tried the expensive cat food. She liked plain grilled chicken better. I played with her a bit more so she felt more engaged. She slept under the covers behind my knees to stay warm. I made sure the faucet was on before my shower so she could get fresh water.
Over the past few days none of this mattered. She had found her quiet place in the house. She followed me downstairs in the morning to see me off to work but other than that she stayed in her quiet place. She lost all interest in toys and looking out of the common windows.
I was used to coming home to a cheerful 'I miss you' meow followed by a thumping of paws down the stairs but lately there was silence. I found myself laying next to her and stroking her soft fur until she gathered the strength to venture from the quiet place.
I had moved her food and her litter box near the quiet place so she didn't have to fight stairs every time she needed to eat or use the bathroom. The stairs were no longer her friend. Even after I moved it she was barely making it to the litter.
I started going home for lunch to pet her and make sure she was as comfortable as possible.
A few days ago I went home for lunch to make sure she was ok. She stumbled into the bathroom and barely peed in the litter. She then slowly made it back to the quiet place near the bed. I open up the crawl space so she could sit near her other favorite window. She perked up for a moment then stumbled back to the quiet place.
I decided to finally let her outside after eight and a half years. She got in the sun and you would have thought she was a kitten. She was sniffing around. She was alert. She actually tried to bolt passed me. When I brought her in the house her spirits were up. She was so happy.
Unfortunately the vet was right.
"When the turn for the worse comes," he said, "it will come quickly. Her disease has advanced to the point where her decline will be rapid. She could go from playful kitty to suffering in a snap."
She fell trying to get water from the faucet at three in the morning. Nothing was broken but I could tell she was weaker than just hours before and confused. I cradled her in my arms like a baby but she fought to get down. As I set her down I noticed her back right leg was dragging and she couldn't keep her head up anymore.
She desperately looked for new quiet places in the house but couldn't get comfortable. I felt the lump growing in my chest and the welling of tears in my eyes.
"I think it's time," I choked out after I gave the vet all of the necessary information.
"Just ring the bell when you arrive and we'll unlock the door for you." I slowly hung up the phone knowing soon my kitty would be in her final quiet place.
"She's so soft," they would always say. This was usually followed by "I'm so sorry."
I had tried everything I could to keep her comfortable. I tried the expensive cat food. She liked plain grilled chicken better. I played with her a bit more so she felt more engaged. She slept under the covers behind my knees to stay warm. I made sure the faucet was on before my shower so she could get fresh water.
Over the past few days none of this mattered. She had found her quiet place in the house. She followed me downstairs in the morning to see me off to work but other than that she stayed in her quiet place. She lost all interest in toys and looking out of the common windows.
I was used to coming home to a cheerful 'I miss you' meow followed by a thumping of paws down the stairs but lately there was silence. I found myself laying next to her and stroking her soft fur until she gathered the strength to venture from the quiet place.
I had moved her food and her litter box near the quiet place so she didn't have to fight stairs every time she needed to eat or use the bathroom. The stairs were no longer her friend. Even after I moved it she was barely making it to the litter.
I started going home for lunch to pet her and make sure she was as comfortable as possible.
A few days ago I went home for lunch to make sure she was ok. She stumbled into the bathroom and barely peed in the litter. She then slowly made it back to the quiet place near the bed. I open up the crawl space so she could sit near her other favorite window. She perked up for a moment then stumbled back to the quiet place.
I decided to finally let her outside after eight and a half years. She got in the sun and you would have thought she was a kitten. She was sniffing around. She was alert. She actually tried to bolt passed me. When I brought her in the house her spirits were up. She was so happy.
Unfortunately the vet was right.
"When the turn for the worse comes," he said, "it will come quickly. Her disease has advanced to the point where her decline will be rapid. She could go from playful kitty to suffering in a snap."
She fell trying to get water from the faucet at three in the morning. Nothing was broken but I could tell she was weaker than just hours before and confused. I cradled her in my arms like a baby but she fought to get down. As I set her down I noticed her back right leg was dragging and she couldn't keep her head up anymore.
She desperately looked for new quiet places in the house but couldn't get comfortable. I felt the lump growing in my chest and the welling of tears in my eyes.
"I think it's time," I choked out after I gave the vet all of the necessary information.
"Just ring the bell when you arrive and we'll unlock the door for you." I slowly hung up the phone knowing soon my kitty would be in her final quiet place.
Monday, June 13, 2016
Day 110 - Resolve
The next few weeks slowly started to unravel. I became the employee I hated. I was forgetful, distracted, and on occasion, late. JP was right. Why was I going out of my way to prove myself to people who didn't want to respect me?
Everything came to a head one night.
"Have you done that?" I think I asked again.
"Please don't do this to yourself," I could hear the stern pleading in V's voice.
"Have you gone back to that moment? I mean the moment where you think you made the wrong decision? I have. I do it all the time." I picked up the wine glass and tipped the stem to the ceiling. The red didn't even have flavor anymore. I could feel it making its way into my system to join the rest of the bottle.
Every once in a while there is a day where no matter what you do you're done. Every movement boxes you into a corner. Every attempt to make things right comes up short.
The clock can't tick fast enough and the day can't end soon enough. Even the machines were tired of hammering relentlessly. The grinding metal cacophony had finally reached its fever pitch and had pulled back to a steady hum.
I closed my eyes and let the last glass hit me like a wave.
"Thank you," I heard myself say. "Thank you for coming to pick me up." I extended my hand to shake hers. I heard the empty wine glass clink against the bar in the distance. Luckily the glass didn't break. If only my resolve could have been that strong.
My hand hung in the air.
"I didn't give you my business card for some drunk hook up," she seethed.
"I didn't call you to hook up." I did the slow motion face wipe. There were a few goals. The number one was to keep it together. The number two goal was to not puke on myself. The number three goal was to not wake up on my front porch in my underwear.
"I just need to talk to someone who has had a bit of distance. I know it might not seem like it right now but I have a plan and I need to run it by someone."
"Ok," V said rolling her eyes, "but you can tell me while I drive you home."
"Deal," I said.
Over the drive home I explained how the last few weeks slowly unraveled the grand plan.
Everything came to a head one night.
"Have you done that?" I think I asked again.
"Please don't do this to yourself," I could hear the stern pleading in V's voice.
"Have you gone back to that moment? I mean the moment where you think you made the wrong decision? I have. I do it all the time." I picked up the wine glass and tipped the stem to the ceiling. The red didn't even have flavor anymore. I could feel it making its way into my system to join the rest of the bottle.
Every once in a while there is a day where no matter what you do you're done. Every movement boxes you into a corner. Every attempt to make things right comes up short.
The clock can't tick fast enough and the day can't end soon enough. Even the machines were tired of hammering relentlessly. The grinding metal cacophony had finally reached its fever pitch and had pulled back to a steady hum.
I closed my eyes and let the last glass hit me like a wave.
"Thank you," I heard myself say. "Thank you for coming to pick me up." I extended my hand to shake hers. I heard the empty wine glass clink against the bar in the distance. Luckily the glass didn't break. If only my resolve could have been that strong.
My hand hung in the air.
"I didn't give you my business card for some drunk hook up," she seethed.
"I didn't call you to hook up." I did the slow motion face wipe. There were a few goals. The number one was to keep it together. The number two goal was to not puke on myself. The number three goal was to not wake up on my front porch in my underwear.
"I just need to talk to someone who has had a bit of distance. I know it might not seem like it right now but I have a plan and I need to run it by someone."
"Ok," V said rolling her eyes, "but you can tell me while I drive you home."
"Deal," I said.
Over the drive home I explained how the last few weeks slowly unraveled the grand plan.
Monday, June 6, 2016
Day 109 - Mailbox
I paced around for a few seconds then stood stone still. I couldn't for the life of me remember why I had come into the room. My cat was perched on the back of the couch. She raised her head and gave me a sad look of disappointment.
Was I just coming through? Was I looking for something in particular? Was I just losing my mind?
I backtracked my steps trying to jog my memory. As I got to the top of the stairs I thought about Marrianne. It had been a while since we had actually spoken.
The last time I actually called her was to leave a quick voicemail to let her know I hadn't forgotten about her.
There had been a few random texts of hello since then but nothing of any significance. I went for my phone to shoot a quick hello.
"Son of a bitch," I said out loud. I realized I had originally gone downstairs to get my phone.
I went back to the living room and grabbed it from the armrest on the couch. My cat's sense of disappointment deepened and she burrowed her head under her paw.
I decided to call rather than text this time. I thought about taking time to put pen to paper but it had been longer than usual. Normally that would have been prime letter time but there was a strange sense of urgency.
The call went directly to voicemail like before. I got a weird pang in my chest. I prepared to leave her a quick message letting her know things were stressful but manageable. I knew when she called me back she would tell me to suck it up and get back to the business of business.
"The person you have called has a mailbox that is full. You can not leave a message at this time. Press one to disconnect.." The phone went dead.
I hadn't just come to get my phone. I had come to get my charger as well. I backtracked my memory to the last time I spoke with Marrianne. For the life of me I couldn't remember. I paced around the living room for a few seconds then stood stone still.
Was I just coming through? Was I looking for something in particular? Was I just losing my mind?
I backtracked my steps trying to jog my memory. As I got to the top of the stairs I thought about Marrianne. It had been a while since we had actually spoken.
The last time I actually called her was to leave a quick voicemail to let her know I hadn't forgotten about her.
There had been a few random texts of hello since then but nothing of any significance. I went for my phone to shoot a quick hello.
"Son of a bitch," I said out loud. I realized I had originally gone downstairs to get my phone.
I went back to the living room and grabbed it from the armrest on the couch. My cat's sense of disappointment deepened and she burrowed her head under her paw.
I decided to call rather than text this time. I thought about taking time to put pen to paper but it had been longer than usual. Normally that would have been prime letter time but there was a strange sense of urgency.
The call went directly to voicemail like before. I got a weird pang in my chest. I prepared to leave her a quick message letting her know things were stressful but manageable. I knew when she called me back she would tell me to suck it up and get back to the business of business.
"The person you have called has a mailbox that is full. You can not leave a message at this time. Press one to disconnect.." The phone went dead.
I hadn't just come to get my phone. I had come to get my charger as well. I backtracked my memory to the last time I spoke with Marrianne. For the life of me I couldn't remember. I paced around the living room for a few seconds then stood stone still.
Monday, May 30, 2016
Day 108 - Video Chatting
"You should just quit," said my friend JP. "Get on a plane and come to California. There's a lot of solid opportunity out here for you, buddy. I understand you have a plan but your plan sacrifices some of your soul. It's not worth it."
"It just feels like a solid betrayal. It feels like I have to prove myself to these people all over again." I said letting the wine wash away the day.
Video chatting is strange to me. I never know if I should look at the camera on the phone/computer/tablet so it looks like I'm looking at the person directly or if I should just look at them on the screen. As much as I love some of this technology I'm still figuring it out.
"Why would you take the time to try to prove yourself to people who don't want to respect you?"
I took a deep breath and let his words sink in.
"This is more for me than it is for them. I need to show that I can do the job. I need to show that I can..." I stopped mid sentence.
He had crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair.
"What?" I asked.
"They may have already won, buddy."
"I don't know what you mean," I said feeling my brow furrow again. This was becoming a constant state of face lately.
"All I'm hearing from you is doubt. You are questioning your every move. You even seem like you're questioning the things you know you're good at. You can't stay somewhere that doesn't constructively challenge you. There is a difference between pushing people to reach new levels for a greater purpose and crushing someone's soul. This sounds like someone wants to make sure you are 'where you be long' in the soul crushing kind of way.
"How much writing have you done lately? How much music have you made?"
I ran my hand over my growing beard and looked over the screen to the wall behind it.
"That's what I thought. They may have won because YOUR armor is cracked. Once they get you to question yourself they got you by the balls. You are either the star of your own dreams or a background player in someone else's."
"I just feel like I got stabbed in the back." I said quietly.
"You can't keep hanging on to the anger. You've got to let it go. No one other than you will taste the bitterness in your mouth no matter how long you keep swishing it around."
I looked right into the camera to make sure he knew I was listening.
"What did you tell me ten years ago?" He asked.
I told him to stop talking about his dreams and start doing something about them. He had already written a book series but he wanted to get into film. After our conversation he finished his first script. I actually bet him he wouldn't do it. I told him if he did end up producing something I would fly out to help him. Within seven months we were standing on a set built in someone's living room. We had a micro budget but we were determined to make magic happen.
Now, ten years later, his production company was about to embark on their first international venture. There were multiple directors, multiple locations, and hundreds of people involved. All of this stemmed from two friends talking about believing in something more.
"If you really want to do something don't just sit there..." I started.
"Do SOMETHING!" He finished with the same enthusiasm I had ten years ago.
"JP," said a voice in the background, "the production meeting starts in ten minutes."
"Thank you. Ok, buddy, you heard the lady. I've got to go. Let me know when you're on your way out here even if it's just for a visit. Keep your head on straight and spit that bitterness out. The world has much sweeter things in store for you."
"Thank you," I said feeling a bit more of the weight lift from my chest. "I will revamp the plan."
"You should just quit limiting yourself. There's a lot of solid opportunity out there just waiting for you. Revamp that plan so it doesn't sacrifice your soul. It's not worth it."
"It just feels like a solid betrayal. It feels like I have to prove myself to these people all over again." I said letting the wine wash away the day.
Video chatting is strange to me. I never know if I should look at the camera on the phone/computer/tablet so it looks like I'm looking at the person directly or if I should just look at them on the screen. As much as I love some of this technology I'm still figuring it out.
"Why would you take the time to try to prove yourself to people who don't want to respect you?"
I took a deep breath and let his words sink in.
"This is more for me than it is for them. I need to show that I can do the job. I need to show that I can..." I stopped mid sentence.
He had crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair.
"What?" I asked.
"They may have already won, buddy."
"I don't know what you mean," I said feeling my brow furrow again. This was becoming a constant state of face lately.
"All I'm hearing from you is doubt. You are questioning your every move. You even seem like you're questioning the things you know you're good at. You can't stay somewhere that doesn't constructively challenge you. There is a difference between pushing people to reach new levels for a greater purpose and crushing someone's soul. This sounds like someone wants to make sure you are 'where you be long' in the soul crushing kind of way.
"How much writing have you done lately? How much music have you made?"
I ran my hand over my growing beard and looked over the screen to the wall behind it.
"That's what I thought. They may have won because YOUR armor is cracked. Once they get you to question yourself they got you by the balls. You are either the star of your own dreams or a background player in someone else's."
"I just feel like I got stabbed in the back." I said quietly.
"You can't keep hanging on to the anger. You've got to let it go. No one other than you will taste the bitterness in your mouth no matter how long you keep swishing it around."
I looked right into the camera to make sure he knew I was listening.
"What did you tell me ten years ago?" He asked.
I told him to stop talking about his dreams and start doing something about them. He had already written a book series but he wanted to get into film. After our conversation he finished his first script. I actually bet him he wouldn't do it. I told him if he did end up producing something I would fly out to help him. Within seven months we were standing on a set built in someone's living room. We had a micro budget but we were determined to make magic happen.
Now, ten years later, his production company was about to embark on their first international venture. There were multiple directors, multiple locations, and hundreds of people involved. All of this stemmed from two friends talking about believing in something more.
"If you really want to do something don't just sit there..." I started.
"Do SOMETHING!" He finished with the same enthusiasm I had ten years ago.
"JP," said a voice in the background, "the production meeting starts in ten minutes."
"Thank you. Ok, buddy, you heard the lady. I've got to go. Let me know when you're on your way out here even if it's just for a visit. Keep your head on straight and spit that bitterness out. The world has much sweeter things in store for you."
"Thank you," I said feeling a bit more of the weight lift from my chest. "I will revamp the plan."
"You should just quit limiting yourself. There's a lot of solid opportunity out there just waiting for you. Revamp that plan so it doesn't sacrifice your soul. It's not worth it."
Monday, May 23, 2016
Day 107 - That Thing
"What in the hell is that thing on your face?" V asked with a combination of surprise and confusion. I had let the hibernation beard grow out of control. Shaving just wasn't a part of the equation this year.
The events that led to this last hibernation had left me numb. No matter how hard I tried to dial things back I couldn't. No matter how close I came to a total reset of mindset the final piece wouldn't click into place.
This year the hibernation seemed like a Sisyphean task.
"Oh Hey! It's the hibernation beard."
"Wow! I've seen you with a five o'clock shadow before but this..." Her voice trailed off a bit. "I have to admit you kind of look like a bad ass."
Every once in a while it happens. The line is just long enough for me to get caught talking to someone. Usually I can time it just right. I run in. I grab what I need and go. Even though I look like a 'bad ass' I must look like a nice bad ass because ocassionally random people will just start a conversation.
Sometimes it's about how long the line is. Sometimes it's about how the person in front of us MUST be paying in pennies because 'no transaction on earth takes this long!'. Sometimes it's about the weather.
Normally I will say I forgot my wallet in my car and go on a short walk until the line dissipates. Unfortunately this was my second go round. I had already gone on my walk and the store was closing in ten minutes. More important, I was out of wine.
She knew me from work. We worked together for a few years but then she got an offer at a different company making different money.
"Thank you. I think?" The question hung in the air for a second.
"No, no, no. It's a good thing. I've also never seen you in jeans before."
"Sir," I heard the cashier say. My heart sang. As much as I do like seeing people I like sometimes I just want to get in the store and get out. "I'll be right with you," she said running to the back of the store. My heart sank.
"So how's the new job?" I asked, genuinely curious.
"It's different. Different pay structure. Different environment. I went from being one of the oldest people in the office to being just one of the crowd."
We heard a flurry of sneezes from the back of the store intermixed with a few "Oh My Gods". This commotion was followed by a long coughing fit. V and I just looked at each other moderately concerned.
"I'm sorry," said the red faced cashier as she returned. "It's my allergies." She put her right wrist to her nose and fanned herself with her left hand.
"Bless you," we both said at the same time.
"Talk to you after hibernation," I said after I checked out and headed for the door.
"Here's my card. I know it's been kind of a rough year for you. We're always looking for good people. If you want to get a clean start I'll put in a good word for you."
"Thank you," I said slipping her card into the good pocket. "I'll keep you in mind."
"You might have to shave that thing on your face for the interview but other than that I think you'd be a perfect fit." We laughed a little then she disappeared into the darkness.
As much as I needed a change I also needed to find the weakness in the armor and watch it spread. I had a plan and shaving just wasn't part of the equation this year.
The events that led to this last hibernation had left me numb. No matter how hard I tried to dial things back I couldn't. No matter how close I came to a total reset of mindset the final piece wouldn't click into place.
This year the hibernation seemed like a Sisyphean task.
"Oh Hey! It's the hibernation beard."
"Wow! I've seen you with a five o'clock shadow before but this..." Her voice trailed off a bit. "I have to admit you kind of look like a bad ass."
Every once in a while it happens. The line is just long enough for me to get caught talking to someone. Usually I can time it just right. I run in. I grab what I need and go. Even though I look like a 'bad ass' I must look like a nice bad ass because ocassionally random people will just start a conversation.
Sometimes it's about how long the line is. Sometimes it's about how the person in front of us MUST be paying in pennies because 'no transaction on earth takes this long!'. Sometimes it's about the weather.
Normally I will say I forgot my wallet in my car and go on a short walk until the line dissipates. Unfortunately this was my second go round. I had already gone on my walk and the store was closing in ten minutes. More important, I was out of wine.
She knew me from work. We worked together for a few years but then she got an offer at a different company making different money.
"Thank you. I think?" The question hung in the air for a second.
"No, no, no. It's a good thing. I've also never seen you in jeans before."
"Sir," I heard the cashier say. My heart sang. As much as I do like seeing people I like sometimes I just want to get in the store and get out. "I'll be right with you," she said running to the back of the store. My heart sank.
"So how's the new job?" I asked, genuinely curious.
"It's different. Different pay structure. Different environment. I went from being one of the oldest people in the office to being just one of the crowd."
We heard a flurry of sneezes from the back of the store intermixed with a few "Oh My Gods". This commotion was followed by a long coughing fit. V and I just looked at each other moderately concerned.
"I'm sorry," said the red faced cashier as she returned. "It's my allergies." She put her right wrist to her nose and fanned herself with her left hand.
"Bless you," we both said at the same time.
"Talk to you after hibernation," I said after I checked out and headed for the door.
"Here's my card. I know it's been kind of a rough year for you. We're always looking for good people. If you want to get a clean start I'll put in a good word for you."
"Thank you," I said slipping her card into the good pocket. "I'll keep you in mind."
"You might have to shave that thing on your face for the interview but other than that I think you'd be a perfect fit." We laughed a little then she disappeared into the darkness.
As much as I needed a change I also needed to find the weakness in the armor and watch it spread. I had a plan and shaving just wasn't part of the equation this year.
Monday, May 16, 2016
Day 106 - Pie Hole
"Fuck 'em," said Derich giving the world the finger. "Fuck 'em right in the pie hole!" He put his feet up on the ottoman.
"And then I was asking myself should I quit or just wait for them to..." I tried to continue.
"Fuck them and fuck that! You do not quit! You hang on to that job until they fire you. If you quit you get nothing. Now if they fire you," he said smiling, "they have to explain it. You have too much going on now to just walk away. Besides if you walk away they win."
He was the second person to say that. In my mind everyone had already lost. There were not going to be any winners here, just people nursing bruised egos and mending broken promises.
"Yes, I know. I get it." My cat moved from her perch on the back of the couch to my lap. Her freshly shaved belly was warm. She had been incredibly cuddly since her visit to the emergency room. Two thousand dollars later she was home. I wasn't sure how long she was here for but she was here now. We had that in common.
"Trust me," he said pointing to the ceiling.
Derich was the king of getting fired lately. He had actually done very well for himself over the last few years but in an unorthodox way. Six years ago he had worked his way up to an executive level at an international company. When the market crashed they let him go. At first he was worried about how he was going to make ends meet until he got his severance package. It wasn't what he was used to making but it was more money than most people see in five years.
Three years ago it happened again. This time it was more than what most people see in a decade. He was chomping at the bit to get fired from this latest company because they were known for golden parachutes.
"Most of my department is about to get canned. I love it."
"You are a lunatic."
"I get the summer off. We'll go visit her parents for a few weeks, which will suck, but for the most part I get to enjoy some quality time with Karen and the kids."
He laced his fingers and smiled.
"So how much is the buy out?" He asked coming back to our conversation.
"The what?" I started laughing.
"The buy out! How much are they going to pay you to walk out the door and keep your mouth shut?"
"Buy out? Man, there is no buy out. They just walk me out. I'm going to have to fight for my vacation time."
He stared at me blankly.
"You've been there, what, five or ten years, right?" He asked slowly.
"Yes. About five or ten years."
"No buy out?" He asked incredulously.
"Nope. No buy out for me. I'll be lucky if the patch of land they drop me over has grass to break my fall. I have no golden parachute."
There was a long pause.
"What'd you make last year?"
I gave him the number and he almost choked.
"It's time for you to take that job working for your friend in Hartford. If you can survive on the amount you just told me you'd kill it as a financial planner. If I made that little I'd be living in a cardboard box. A very small cardboard box."
"Well now that makes me feel better." I said shaking my head. "I can't work for him. For him or with him or whatever. Friends and money don't mix. I value his friendship too much to have work get in the way."
He looked at his watch then rubbed his forehead.
"I have to meet Karen for lunch. She wants to go over our finances before the layoff. Look," he said standing up to leave, "if I were you I would just buckle down and make as much as you can for as long as you can. Have the best year you've ever had. That way if they fire you they have to explain it."
"Then what?" I asked. My cat perked her head up like she was waiting for an answer, too.
"Fuck 'em," he said. "Fuck 'em right in the pie hole!"
"And then I was asking myself should I quit or just wait for them to..." I tried to continue.
"Fuck them and fuck that! You do not quit! You hang on to that job until they fire you. If you quit you get nothing. Now if they fire you," he said smiling, "they have to explain it. You have too much going on now to just walk away. Besides if you walk away they win."
He was the second person to say that. In my mind everyone had already lost. There were not going to be any winners here, just people nursing bruised egos and mending broken promises.
"Yes, I know. I get it." My cat moved from her perch on the back of the couch to my lap. Her freshly shaved belly was warm. She had been incredibly cuddly since her visit to the emergency room. Two thousand dollars later she was home. I wasn't sure how long she was here for but she was here now. We had that in common.
"Trust me," he said pointing to the ceiling.
Derich was the king of getting fired lately. He had actually done very well for himself over the last few years but in an unorthodox way. Six years ago he had worked his way up to an executive level at an international company. When the market crashed they let him go. At first he was worried about how he was going to make ends meet until he got his severance package. It wasn't what he was used to making but it was more money than most people see in five years.
Three years ago it happened again. This time it was more than what most people see in a decade. He was chomping at the bit to get fired from this latest company because they were known for golden parachutes.
"Most of my department is about to get canned. I love it."
"You are a lunatic."
"I get the summer off. We'll go visit her parents for a few weeks, which will suck, but for the most part I get to enjoy some quality time with Karen and the kids."
He laced his fingers and smiled.
"So how much is the buy out?" He asked coming back to our conversation.
"The what?" I started laughing.
"The buy out! How much are they going to pay you to walk out the door and keep your mouth shut?"
"Buy out? Man, there is no buy out. They just walk me out. I'm going to have to fight for my vacation time."
He stared at me blankly.
"You've been there, what, five or ten years, right?" He asked slowly.
"Yes. About five or ten years."
"No buy out?" He asked incredulously.
"Nope. No buy out for me. I'll be lucky if the patch of land they drop me over has grass to break my fall. I have no golden parachute."
There was a long pause.
"What'd you make last year?"
I gave him the number and he almost choked.
"It's time for you to take that job working for your friend in Hartford. If you can survive on the amount you just told me you'd kill it as a financial planner. If I made that little I'd be living in a cardboard box. A very small cardboard box."
"Well now that makes me feel better." I said shaking my head. "I can't work for him. For him or with him or whatever. Friends and money don't mix. I value his friendship too much to have work get in the way."
He looked at his watch then rubbed his forehead.
"I have to meet Karen for lunch. She wants to go over our finances before the layoff. Look," he said standing up to leave, "if I were you I would just buckle down and make as much as you can for as long as you can. Have the best year you've ever had. That way if they fire you they have to explain it."
"Then what?" I asked. My cat perked her head up like she was waiting for an answer, too.
"Fuck 'em," he said. "Fuck 'em right in the pie hole!"
Monday, May 9, 2016
Day 105 - Healing
I looked at myself in the mirror. I wasn't used to wearing jeans to work. It didn't make sense to me. I felt like I was wearing pajamas. The heaviness in my chest was still there. The machines whirred differently. It was almost like they were concerned.
Should I just go back and sit there quietly? Should I just go do the job and keep my mouth shut? Would that lift the heaviness from my chest? There was too much going on to just walk away. The kid was right. I couldn't just quit
I looked at the mirror again. My jeans didn't quite fit the way I thought they should. The shirt was a little more snug than it was when I bought it a few years ago. I saw a man who was getting older. Was it too late? Did I have the strength to start from the bottom again? Was it time to suck it up and learn how to 'listen'? The heaviness started to feel like pain.
They were not here to heal my pain. They did not care that I was in a world of hurt. Why should they? This was not their world. Their world was one of blissful ignorance. As long as I continued to show up and function they were not at fault. I was.
The beautiful part was that I could still work. I would love to have enjoyed my work but I was just happy that I could still do it. I loved the concept of the work. I loved that I had the ability to work. I was disappointed that I didn't enjoy the work or the work environment. I would like to have believed things would get better.
Whatever I wanted to believe didn't matter. I simply needed to contend with what was. This seemed to some like a bleak view of the world. It wasn't. It was just an observation of my immediate surroundings. It was not a happy place or a sad place. It wasn't boring or exciting. It simply was. Right then I made a choice about how I would absorb what came to me and how I would react to it.
I opted to just take it in and let it wash over me. I wasn't going to fight back right away. I would watch for the weakness in the armor. I wouldn't strike. I wouldn't lash out. I would wait for the weakness to spread. I would wait until the armor was as brittle as glass. I would watch it shatter on it's own and I then would tread lightly on it's broken promises knowing that they could cut no deeper than it's blissful ignorance.
I looked at myself in the mirror again. It still didn't make complete sense to me but at least I had a plan. I took a deep breath and a bit of the heaviness lifted.
Should I just go back and sit there quietly? Should I just go do the job and keep my mouth shut? Would that lift the heaviness from my chest? There was too much going on to just walk away. The kid was right. I couldn't just quit
I looked at the mirror again. My jeans didn't quite fit the way I thought they should. The shirt was a little more snug than it was when I bought it a few years ago. I saw a man who was getting older. Was it too late? Did I have the strength to start from the bottom again? Was it time to suck it up and learn how to 'listen'? The heaviness started to feel like pain.
They were not here to heal my pain. They did not care that I was in a world of hurt. Why should they? This was not their world. Their world was one of blissful ignorance. As long as I continued to show up and function they were not at fault. I was.
The beautiful part was that I could still work. I would love to have enjoyed my work but I was just happy that I could still do it. I loved the concept of the work. I loved that I had the ability to work. I was disappointed that I didn't enjoy the work or the work environment. I would like to have believed things would get better.
Whatever I wanted to believe didn't matter. I simply needed to contend with what was. This seemed to some like a bleak view of the world. It wasn't. It was just an observation of my immediate surroundings. It was not a happy place or a sad place. It wasn't boring or exciting. It simply was. Right then I made a choice about how I would absorb what came to me and how I would react to it.
I opted to just take it in and let it wash over me. I wasn't going to fight back right away. I would watch for the weakness in the armor. I wouldn't strike. I wouldn't lash out. I would wait for the weakness to spread. I would wait until the armor was as brittle as glass. I would watch it shatter on it's own and I then would tread lightly on it's broken promises knowing that they could cut no deeper than it's blissful ignorance.
I looked at myself in the mirror again. It still didn't make complete sense to me but at least I had a plan. I took a deep breath and a bit of the heaviness lifted.
Monday, May 2, 2016
Day 104 - Steering Wheel
"Just grip the steering wheel and breathe." I said to myself. I sat quietly in the basement of the parking garage trying to figure out my next move. The kid ran out of the stairwell and looked around like a lost puppy. I debated waiving him over but I just wanted to be left alone.
His eyes landed on the Saab and he slowly made his way over.
"Son of a bitch," I whispered to myself.
He stood at the driver's side door and leaned on the dusty car parked next to me. I rolled down my window and looked through him.
"Did they fire you?" He asked, eyes wide open and out of breath from running down the stairs.
"Worse," I said feeling my brow furrow. "They put a leash on me. It was an HR ambush call. They set up a meeting on the pretense of going over accounts and then they told me HR was on the phone."
"What?!?" He said with complete disbelief. "They wouldn't..."
I just looked him in the eye and watched his demeanor change as the truth washed over him.
"But they always laugh and joke with..." His voice trailed off.
He was right. They always laugh and joke when they want something. Unfortunately for me I had called the wrong asshole an asshole. I had also called one of their top bullshitters on his bullshit. Even though I was doing well I wasn't doing well enough. It was explained to me that I didn't know how to 'listen'. I had called out one of their pets on trying to bang new hires and interns. It didn't go well. I was told to mind my own business.
There was too much going on in my real life for me to be concerned with the fragile office egos or the petty office politics so I told them to go pound sand.
I would be better if I was in an office with doors rather than the open office infrastructure. I am old school when it comes down to how things should run.
The new hires need to earn their worth. They don't earn my respect their first day on the floor. You need to prove you belong there. They also don't need to worry about some senior employee trying to bang them either.
"At some point it went from laughing and joking to evidence gathering." I leaned back in the seat and crossed my arms.
"You aren't going to quit are you?"
"I was..." I started.
"You can't!" He said a little too quickly. "If you quit they win."
I knew he was right. I laced my fingers behind my head and stared at the roof of my car.
"Nah. I just need to figure out how to make this work. You should go back upstairs. No reason for you to be guilty by association."
"Guilty of what?" His eyes grew wide.
"Don't worry, kid," I said laughing out loud. "I have too much going on in my real life. This is an inconvenience. You don't have to worry about me doing anything stupid. I still have to pay bills and put food on the table. Go on. Go back upstairs. Do the work. Make the money.
"I'm going to go home, put on a pair of jeans, and come back to work comfortable." The suit I had grown to love felt constricting. "Go," I said waiving him back to the stairwell.
He put his hands in his pockets and slowly walked away.
I tried to start the car and head home to change clothes but my chest felt heavy. The only thing I could do was just grip the steering wheel and breathe.
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