World Wide Worry

     “It looks like,” said the owner of the firm stepping out of his office to conduct the emergency meeting, “things are going to be different for a while.”  The numbers of infected people had skyrocketed.  The number of people dying had also spiked.
     “Mandate has just come from California that we are to work from home until this ‘pandemic’ thing is figured out.”
     It was a double whammy.  The office had just produced and posted a video stating that this would not become a pandemic.  In that same video it was stated that this was all hysteria.  That video was quietly removed two weeks later.
     The idea that there was a worldwide worry had been kicking around in the background for the last few weeks.  It had made its way to the forefront.  There was fear for Mom.  There was fear that this was it.  We had pushed the boundaries of the planet to the point where it was finally pushing back.  
     Mother Earth had found the right combination to kill us all and start all over again.
     On another note, I was happy not to have to drive into Hartford every other day.  I remember thinking to myself, “This is terrible, BUT (provided my Mom and my sister are ok) if I never have to make this drive again and most people I care about don’t die, I’m ok.”
     After months of crushing anxiety something was really happening.  When you think the world is falling apart and it actually does, you are strangely prepared for it.  The machines are an internal terror.  They take your worst fears and run them over and over again.  They do everything to cause you anxiety and then feed off that anxiety.
     You feel like everything is ending.  When everything actually feels like it is ending, due to say a pandemic of unknown origin, you shift from internal terror to worldwide worry.  The machines can’t compete.  Because you have thought of every shit scenario and every soul crushing terrible thing that can happen, you are strangely prepared for the worst.
     It’s a twisted validation that cleans the slate and brings forth a moment of almost pure joy.  You are able to say, ‘See, things are as bad as I thought they were.”
     We were also going home because the building was shutting down for at least a week.
     “Oh my God!  This is just like that movie with that guy from Boston and that super hot English guy.  The one about the virus … you know the one where the mother and son died in the first 10 minutes.” started the secretary.
     “Seriously,” said the female rep.  “Why the fuck do you keep bringing that movie up?”
     “Because he’s hot,” she said, pouting a little.
     “Hot or not our clients will be just as freaked out as everyone else.”  He grabbed his backpack, jacket, and phone.  “Tragedy prints money!  Make those phone calls!  Now is the perfect time to shine.  Move that money before the market is a mess!”
     He was on a roll.  His eyes were wide with the coming commissions that could be made by ‘moving the money’.
     “Where are we moving them?” He asked, headed for the door, already knowing.
     “Darwin Defined Funds, where your money evolves with the market.”  We all responded.
     “All right.  Go home.  Don’t die.  Don’t worry.  The greatest president of our lifetime is handling this.”
     Things were going to be different all right.  We had pushed the boundaries and now the boundaries were pushing back.  Maybe Darwin had more to do with this than we thought.

Due Diligence

      Normally around this time of the year I would’ve been deep into hibernation.  Between the jolts and the job hunt I was still going out, albeit on a limited basis.  I wanted to just disappear.  My senses weren’t really that sharp.
     It took me a little time to realize it, but once it did it hit me like a bolt.  Marrianne’s husband was named Kyle.  Who was Karl?  It made sense now.  Of course, she was more interested in Karen’s guy from work story.  Was it a slip of the tongue or had she also found a new friend?  
     I would have noticed it sooner if the night before hadn’t left me feeling fuzzy.  Maybe I was overthinking things.  I hadn’t done my due diligence.  I would ask her the next week.
     Maybe she wasn’t really interested in either story.  At this age people were tired of hearing about random acts of stupidity, hook ups, crushing anxiety, and complete uncertainty with the world.
     I remember being on twit/face/insta/space years ago watching a woman we all knew have a public meltdown.  There was a lot going on in her life but a lot of what was going on in her life was for show and attention.
     In one of her posts she laid bare what she thought was the greatest tragedy of the moment.  There were tear emojis and exclamation points galore.  After about two hours she had received 5 responses from her 600 friends.  There was an all caps plea of ‘DON’T YOU PEOPLE CARE WHAT’S HAPPENING?’.
     Underneath was a small answer.
     “It’s not that no one cares.  It’s that so many people have so much going on in their own lives that they may not be able to respond right away.”
     “But this is important,” she responded with sad eye emojis.
     “I’m sure it is.”
     And with that it was done.  Two hours later there was a post of puppies that got 150 likes.  She, like so many other people, had gotten what she wanted, engagement.  There was no solution to the problem given.  There was no hint that the problem was actually solved.  There was no reason to think that the presented problem was actually a problem.
     Conflict driven reality shows with no real stakes or consequences are the most popular things on tv, streaming, etc.  Maybe people don’t mind hearing about random acts of stupidity, hook ups, crushing anxiety, and complete uncertainty in the world as long as there is a layer of distance.  They have so much going on in their own lives.
     If you get too close, the terror takes its toll.  The distance is deliberate.  I still had my questions:
     Who was Karl?  Was there even a Karl or was it a slip of the tongue?  How would Karen’s weekend go?  How would this potential new gig work out?
     Other than those few little things, I was happily headed into hibernation where my due diligence was to disappear into the distance. 

Bread Crumbs

      “She didn’t actually say that, did she?” asked Marrianne flopping back on to her living room couch.  “Seriously?”
     “I don’t make this stuff up.  I just report it.”
     I told her about the new job opportunity, the conversation with Karen, and the ‘Oh Hey!’ from yesterday.
     ‘Abby’ had caught her 5 a.m. flight and was kind enough to let me sleep in the room until checkout time.  She did let me know if I ran up the tab on drinks and breakfast, she would find out my real name and track me down.  I had actually tried to give her my name a few times but she wanted no part of it.  When people want to get lost, they don’t leave bread crumbs.
     I needed a coffee with hot chocolate.  Marrianne loves caramel with cream.  Her house was on the way and I needed to tell someone about what might be the last great act of debauchery.  Right now, sharing wasn’t for Karen.
     Marrianne and I had never dated.  I tried when we were younger but she had casually explained that she liked her men 6’ 2” or taller.  She was 5’ 10” barefoot.  If she wanted to go out with her hair up and dressed in a pair of heels, she was an impressively imposing 6’ minimum.
     I was 5’ 7” on a good day …. with a full head of hair.  Us holding hands in public would look like photos of supermodels walking with their little kids to get ice cream.  I am not tall enough for her vagina to acknowledge my presence as a suitable suitor.  She does not date Scale Model Men.
     I bring a decent ear to the table and I don’t break things when I’m around.  Lately the exchange of dinner ideas has been pretty good.
     Normally a mid morning mocha and a quick conversation could ward off a world of worry.  Today wasn’t the day.
     Her face was a bit pensive.  
     “Is this too much too early in the morning?”
     “No.  It’s Karl and the kids.  Things are just getting ...”  Her voice trailed off.
     “Do you need anything?”  I worried I had overstepped.  “Should I leave?”
     “Thanks for the caramel with cream.  Yeah, I have an 11 o’clock and I just want to make sure everything is ready for the presentation.
     “I just can’t believe she said that.”
     “I know, right. ‘And if we aim just right’..” I started.
     “No, not that.  Karen and the guy from work.  Those things never …” Her voice trailed off again.
     “You’re a mess,” she said, changing the subject.  “Shoot me a text when you get home - BEFORE you pass out - so I know you got there safe.”
     “Yes, Mom,” I said letting myself out the front door.
     As I drove home it struck me that I had come across a few bread crumbs Marrianne thought were lost.

There’s This Girl (Something Different)

      “What is that?” I asked, almost spilling some of my fourth glass of wine, standing in the doorway.

     She just laughed and rolled her eyes.

     “You’re kidding, right?  You’ve never seen this before?”

     “I’ve seen this before but …”

     “Butt … very funny.  I see what you did there.”

     It was my turn to roll my eyes.

     “I’m four glasses deep.  Any attempted witticisms on my part would be best in that thing.” I just pointed because couldn’t think of the word.

     “I mean that thing is better than the leather chairs in the lobby.  I hear it gets you cleaner.”

     Something about Karen and movie night had caught me off guard.  The friendship always had and always would come first.  As nice as it would be to explore more, the tradeoff is usually a friendship lost.

     The Derich thing was different.  The friendship might not be over but there was a bit of nastiness that had been explosive and, seemingly necessary.  He was struggling with the fact that he wasn’t where he wanted to be.  His life was a complete success by most standards.  He had a great job where he, until recently, did nothing.  His wife made enough money so, if he wanted to, he could just sit at home and play Mr. Mom.

     In his mind the man was supposed to be the bread winner.  He wasn’t.  He was mad at me because, my life wasn’t where he felt it should be, either.  We still hadn’t spoken since the blow up at the bar.  His daughter Riley was almost two and I still hadn’t met her.

     At some point I would have to find time to fix what was fucked.  Tonight was not that night.

     “You’re pretty articulate for four glances of wine,” she laughed at herself.                       

     “Glances.  It would be so much less expensive if we could just glance at bottles and get buzzed.”  She was amused and she was amusing herself.

     She told me to call her Abby.  Her goal was to disappear into something different.   She had just sat down at the bar and started talking.  I was convinced she thought I was someone else.  

     My goal was to wash away the world then work off the hangover from home the next day.  I would drown the machines in just enough alcohol to take the edge off but not so much that I couldn’t safely get home.

     She was funny, attractive, and interested with no strings and nothing to lose.  That’s a combination that wins every time.  She also had the presidential suite at the hotel.

     “It’s the executive bidet,” she said wrapping her hair back in to a ready for fun bun.  “Or as I like to call it, an ‘Oh Hey!’, because that’s how I feel every time I use it.”  Her voice slowed.

     “I like it because I know what’s about to happen,” she smiled.  

     “I know when it’s about to happen,” the smile disappeared and she pulled me closer.

     “And if you aim just right, it feels pretty damn good.”  Her kiss was deep and deliberate.

     The rest of her conference had been canceled and everyone was scrambling to get home before everything shutdown.  She had found a five a.m. flight and was looking to kill some time before she got back to her life.

     The machines were running rampant.  The job was just a job.  There was another option on the horizon, that was just a job, too.

     Metaphors have never been a great aphrodisiac.  I mean, the world was falling to shit.  Maybe it was more than just a metaphor.  Maybe this was just the distraction we needed.  There was no question of Karen.  There was no fighting with friends.  Her history was a mystery.

     We washed the world away for the next few hours.  We didn’t really know what was going to happen.  We didn’t really know when it was going to happen.  We did know that if we aimed just right everything would feel pretty damn good.