Phone Time

     “How much time do you typically spend on your phone?”  I asked.

     “Where in the hell are all of these questions coming from?”  Tony asked with a cheek full of wings.

     “I’m just curious.  Maybe it’s this new phone but I was on this thing for 5 hours the other day!”

     “That seems like a bit much.”

     “I know, right?”

     “Did you use any of that time to narrow down your contact list?”

     “You know I thought about that.”

     “And?”

     “AND if I ever do write a book or put out new music I can use that contact list to let people know what’s going on.  I’m actually expanding on it. 

     “I’m also reaching out to see if there are any jobs available.  I just can’t do this anymore.  I don’t like the drive.  I’m not a big fan of the office.  I don’t want to be there.  It’s obvious.”

     “Do you need anything else?” Rachel was on her rounds.

     “No, Rach, we’re good.” I smiled.  “Last wings until May.” 

     “Everything all right?” She asked.

     “Hibernation!”  I announced proudly.

     Tony rolled his eyes and Rachel just smiled.

     “You’ll be missed.”

     “Thanks, buddy.”

     “So what’s next?” Tony continued as Rachel took our empty plates.

     “I have no idea.  I have solid office experience.  I’ve been moderately successful but I’m also over 45, I’m black, and I know my worth.  That has been a turn off to some people.”

     “You’re right.  Solid office experience is a turn off.”  He shrugged his shoulders and rolled his eyes again.

     “You laugh.  I started putting out feelers when I turned 40.  I had 5 years in at the tech company.  I had won a few high profile deals.  Nothing.  I got the interviews but no offers.  When they let me go, also nothing.  I had built a multimillion dollar book from damn near nothing.  Nada.”

     “Embrace the suck.”

     “What?”

     “Embrace the suck.  You have to embrace the shitty aspects of the job until it gets better.”

     “Nope.  The suck can suck it.  That would be like paying for shitty wings when you know somewhere out there is a place that has really tasty wings.  

     “The last three jobs made great promises and delivered nothing.  I have nothing against long drives and long hours when you value what the outcome will be but right now thinking about leaving this job there is no love lost.  That’s how I know it’s time to go.”

     “I thought you were going to wait until May?”

     “I am but I have to put the feelers out now.  That’s why I haven’t cleared the contacts, yet.”

     “Well just be careful.  This China thing is starting to get crazy.  I mean really crazy.”

     “You sure it’s not just marketing shit?  Some type of large scale negotiation tactic?”

     “I mean crazy like not just in China crazy.  Amber mentioned more meetings are getting canceled with clients all over the world.”

     “We’ll see what happens.  Hope for the best.  Prep for the worst.  If I can’t find anything else by April the busy months at the firm are May, September, and October.  Between seminars and client visits I can possibly make it work through November.  The last 3 years have been hell.  Honestly how can 2020 be any worse?  Seriously.”

     I smiled and checked the screen time on my phone.  4 hours 35 minutes.  Tony rolled his eyes one last time and motioned to Rachel for the check. 

The Build Up

      I had prepared myself with the standard isms and questions ‘How’s the family?’  ‘How are the kids?’.  The goal was to be as personably impersonal as possible, get the new phone, and get to the comfy couch at my Mom’s house.  That’s what I told myself.
     I wanted to stop by the store earlier but just felt like that would have made things awkward.
     The parking lot was quiet.  This little town on the way to Mom’s place was struggling.  It used to be a factory town.  In the 1980’s and 90’s the factories left.  The internet exploded in the early 2000’s.  The new hip internet business model wasn’t quite ready for business yet and it slowly fell apart.
     The town had barely started to recover from the collapse of the dot coms when the great housing crash hit.   The big box stores had moved in and were slowly moving out smaller Mom & Pop shops leaving empty store fronts.
     The people in town had few choices and many of them chose to leave.
     Today was the day.  Months of talking and planning were about to be replaced with a few minutes of doing.  The rep at the phone/tablet/watch store had given me the lowdown on the phones I was looking at and how long they had been at this store.  For some reason the color black wasn’t popular at this store so it wasn’t flying off the shelves like it was every where else.
     I knew this was divine intervention.  Everything happens for a reason.  It would be a quick hello to Grocery Girl, make sure all was good, and then we would get down to business.  Scratch the standard isms and the personal questions.  Get your phone and go.  Keep it sparse.  Don’t poke the bear.
     I pumped myself up at the door before I went into the store.  Today’s mantra: Get your phone and go.
     The phone/tablet/watch HQ was pristine and practical teeming with twenty somethings alert, attuned, and attentive.
     This corporate cellular store had gray and navy carpet squares to offset the bold but dated wallpaper.  The cases that held the accessories were basic plastic.  The goal was to hold and display the product.  The cases did their job.
     “Be right with you, sir,” said the woman behind the counter.  Her reading glasses were at the end of her nose.
     “Thank you … Shelly,” I said as I got close enough to read her name tag.
     When she was done we exchanged pleasantries and then got straight down to business.  I had narrowed it down to the upgrade of my current phone or last years latest, but not greatest, phone.
     I was also looking out for Grocery Girl while trying not to look out for her at the same time.  Get your phone and go.
     “Are you sure you don’t want to look at this years new model?”  She asked.
     “I’m just not a huge fan.  It seems like all the updates and new camera kind of kill the battery life.”  I had been doing research and just hadn’t been impressed.
     “I am torn between the two.  I like the update of my old phone.  Last year’s phone has great battery life even with a bigger screen  BUT it’s $150 more.”
     “You’ve done your research.  And you are right.  The phone is sort of $150.00 more.”
     “Sort of?”  I leaned in.  She had my attention.  
     “How long have you been a customer?”  She walked back to the counter.
     “20 years.”
     “Have you checked our promotion page?”
     “No.’
     “Have you gotten our texts or emails?” She asked over her reading glasses.
     “This little phone has been crashing … a … lot.  If the texts and emails weren’t from friends they were just deleted.”
     She turned the computer screen around for me to see.  I could upgrade to last years model for a $200.00 discount.
     “The payments are broken up over 30 months.”  She let her glasses hang from their chain on to her practical black sweater and clasped her hands on the countertop.
     “Oh Shelly,” I said as the realization kicked in, “this isn’t a discount.  It’s a contract.”
     She smiled a knowing smile.
     “It’s a discount that saves you $200.00 on what’s arguably been their best phone in 5 years,” she said with a confident energy that her twenty something counterpart wouldn’t be able to muster for at least another ten years.
     I honestly couldn’t argue with her.  I was about to try when I finally looked up and saw the literal writing on the wall.
     This was divine intervention.  Everything does happens for a reason.
     “Can’t argue with the … the … new manager.”
     Over her shoulder was a recent promotions photo I had missed earlier. 
     “Thank you.  It’s recent.  My boss’s husband got a great offer in Iowa.  She was able to get a management position out there and I was promoted.  It all happened so quickly.”
     “Congratulations,” I said awkwardly.
     I decided on last years discounted device.  The parking lot was still quiet when I walked back to my car.  
     I was struggling a little bit.  Apparently I had missed Grocery Girl by about a week.  
     I had prepared to not poke the bear only to find out there was no bear to poke.  Like most of those before her, she had chosen to leave.  My build up had been blown up like the dot coms.
     I had the satisfaction of bringing home the new phone to the comfy couch at my Mom’s house, at least that’s what I told myself.

The Outfit

      There is a certain outfit I wear when going to buy a new phone/tablet/watch.  I go directly to the phone/tablet/watch store to check them out in person.  I can’t just order it online.  The option is there but with purchases like this, walking out of the store with the item in hand is the preferred experience.
     There is a satisfaction derived from riding home with a new phone/tablet/watch on the passenger’s seat.  I can feel it tempting me to open it.  I want to open it but I also want to wait to get to the comfort of my own home.
     The job at the tech sales company was good for a few things.  Sometimes if you did well enough vendors would give you shirts, sweaters, pens, and other general swag as a thank you for selling their items.  Most of those things were donated to the local charities as soon as the job ended.  No point in having useless items around to harbor bad memories.
     Some things were kept for their practical use.  There was a fleece that was as warm as a comforter.  There were multiple water bottles.  Each bottle had it’s special purpose.  There was a UV light bottle.  There was a stainless steel bottle.  There was a recycled plastics bottle.  There was a crazy coffee mug and state of the art thermos.
     There were pens galore.  I gave these to bartenders and waitresses on top of tips.  There were minimalist wallets, umbrellas, snow globes, mirrors, and backpacks.
     I just happened to have a t-shirt, zip up hoodie, pen, and water bottle combo from the phone/tablet/watch company.  The last time I walked into the phone/tablet/watch store wearing this little combination you’d have thought I was a naked supermodel.
     The color of the outfit was different from the people working the floor.  It was also different from management.  Whispering hinted that an exec from corporate was in the building checking up on customer service.  I was respectful.  I answered only the most basic questions.  I was treated like royalty.
     Unfortunately this time the outfit didn’t help.  The color I had set my sights on was out of stock.  Apparently Black was that years new Black and it was flying off the shelves.
     The next delivery would be in two weeks.  There was something going on in China.  I thought back to Tony and Amber’s worry about him. 
     “Is there another location where I might pick one up sooner?  I don’t know if this little phone will make it two weeks.”
     The crew that works at this store were so perky and happy it was almost sickening.
     “I can check the system to see if there are any in the general area,”  She said.  Her deep brown eyes sparkled against her olive skin.  Her face reminded me of someone but I just couldn’t place it.
     “Thank you, Kyiana,” I said reading her name tag.  “That would be wonderful.”
     The phone/tablet/watch store is a sight to behold.  There was pristine presentation, friendly staff, and experts ready to answer any questions you might have.  They were doing everything possible to justify the incredibly high prices they charged.
     “There are six available.”
     “Awesome.”
     “In the state.”
     “Damn it.”
     “You can always have it delivered to your house.”
     “I know,” I said tapping the beautiful wooden table.  I thought about the drive home with the phone in hand.
     “Where is the closest one?”  I asked, determined to walk out of a store with phone in hand.
     “No problem, sir,” her energy was infectious.
     I looked at the screen and laughed to myself.  Grocery Girl’s cell phone store was on the way to my Mom’s house.  It wasn’t the closest but it was pretty high on the list.
     The only place more comfortable than my house was my Mom’s house.    The only thing more satisfying then the thought of driving home with the new phone on the passenger’s seat was knowing I now had a rock solid reason to get good with Grocery Girl.

35

      “What is with you and this 35 age cut off?”

     Tessa.  Tony and Amber had kind of talked through their respective worries and had now focused their concentration on me.  I had become wary of any interaction at anyone’s house lately except Marrianne’s.  There was a lingering fear that an intervention was somewhere around the corner.

     There were no drugs.  The drinking was under control.  It was more of a lifestyle intervention.  Next week began the 4 to 5 month hiatus.  The idea was no visits, no trips, just back and forth to work with a trip to see Mom every two weeks.  If I could’ve worked from home I would’ve.  Corporate wanted us in the office. 

     The goal is always the same: meditate, work out, clear the mind and body, get myself back on track to find out what I want and where I want to be for the next 7 months.

     “35.  How do I explain this?  Usually by age 35 you have kind of filtered through at least one or two levels of bullshit, either with your partner/spouse/live-in whatever or yourself.  You have bought something together, not something huge like a house or a car but a couch or a chair or a mattress.  Not something overtly major but something that has required a compromise and a quiet promise.

     “In your 20s you’ve argued to win.  Hopefully by 35 you are discussing to evolve, move forward, or at least learn why winning isn’t always in your best interest.”

     “You hooked up with that French doctor.”

     “She was older.  She might even be 55.”

     “There was the girl, a few years ago, from the theater…”

     “Who I did not know was 28 and didn’t believe me when I told her about hibernation.  She thought she was being humped and dumped.  I told her the truth and it didn’t fly.”

     “How about the teacher from Massachusetts?”

     “Man, that woman showed up with a whole bag of toys.  I could have used one of them to jackhammer the sidewalk in front of the ... what is that?” I asked distracted by the bottle on his kitchen table.

     “This is the new Motor Oil. High Mileage.  It was five years in the making.  Brewed in cherry bourbon barrels.  It is the strongest thing they’ve brewed.  17.1 abv.”

     I almost felt a tear welling up in my eye.

     “How did you get this?  This isn’t supposed to hit the market for a month.  Did you know that as strong as that is, if you let it mature for a year it will just get stronger?”

     “They’re one of Amber’s top clients.”

     My confused look asked the question for me.

     “She handles national and international accounts.  This is one of her national accounts.”

     “Is this … a … bribe?”

     “Think of it as an offering.”

     “You’ve got to be kidding!”

     I was tempted to call Derich.  And tell him about the…

     “No, This is not an offering.  This is mine but I will share it with you in three weeks.”

     “God damn it.  I’ll be in hibernation.”

     “Oh, really?,” he smiled a knowing smile.

     “Clarity, this time gives me clarity.  You can always come to visit me.  You know that right.”

     “Yeah I know.  Sunday afternoons between 2 and 8 pm.  Calls and texts are good during the week but it takes you a little bit longer to get back.”

     “See.  It’s not all bad.”

     “You know Tessa is the oldest one of the crew, right?

     “Is she 35, yet?” I asked picking out last year’s 12.3 abv Motor Oil out of the fridge.

     “No.”

     “The only thing under 35 I will actively be pursuing is that High Mileage Motor Oil and I might even let that mature for a year so it’s at least 18.”

Impromptu Interview

      There is a certain outfit I wear when going to buy a new phone/tablet/watch.  I go directly to the phone/tablet/watch store to check them out in person.  I can’t just order it online.  The option is there but with purchases like this, walking out of the store with the item in hand is the preferred experience.

     There is a satisfaction derived from riding home with phone/tablet/watch on the passenger’s seat.  I can feel them tempting me to open them.  I want to open them but I also want to wait to get to the comfort of my own home.

     The job at the tech sales company was good for a few things.  Sometimes if you did well enough vendors would give you shirts, sweaters, pens, and other general swag as a thank you for selling their items.  Most of those things were donated to the local charities as soon as the job ended.  No point in having useless items around to harbor bad memories.

     Some things were kept for their practical use.  There was a fleece that was as warm as a comforter.  There were multiple water bottles.  Each bottle had it’s special purpose.  There was a UV light bottle.  There was a stainless steel bottle.  There was a recycled plastics bottle.  There was a crazy coffee mug and state of the art thermos.

     There were pens galore.  I gave these to bartenders and waitresses on top of tips.  There were minimalist wallets, umbrellas, snow globes, mirrors, and backpacks.

     I just happened to have a t-shirt, zip up hoodie, pen, and water bottle combo from the phone/tablet/watch company.  The last time I walked into the phone/tablet/watch store wearing this little combination you’d have thought I was a naked supermodel.

     The color of the outfit was different from the people working the floor.  It was also different from management.  Whispering hinted that an exec from corporate was in the building checking up on customer service.  I was respectful.  I answered only the most basic questions.  I was treated like royalty.

     Unfortunately this time the outfit didn’t help.  The color I had set my sights on was out of stock.  Apparently Black was that years new Black and it was flying off the shelves.