Story 224: I Forgot to Wear Red Today

            “Don’t forget to wear red tomorrow.”

            “What’s tomorrow again?”

            “It’s Heart Health Month or something, so Corporate wants us all to wear red and they’ll take a group photo.  There’ll be cookies there, too, so more people show up.”

            “Sure, OK – I should have something red-ish lying around somewhere.”

THE NEXT DAY

            “Where’s your red?”

            “Shoot, I completely forgot!  When I picked out my clothes this morning it was so cold all I wanted was this really comfy sweater.”

            “Oh well, there’s always next year.”

            “Yes, but what about the photo?”

            “There’s almost 200 people working here; I doubt anyone’ll notice you’re not there.”

            “Yeah, but… you know….”

            “You want a cookie, don’t you.”

            “Yes!  And they won’t let you take an extra one for me, I just know it!”

            “Now that’s the spirit of this whole exercise.”

            *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

            “Psst.”

            “Huh?!  Oh, hey, why are you hanging out on top of my cubicle?”

            “You got an extra red shirt I could borrow?”

            “Heh-heh, you forgot?”

            “Clearly.”

            “Well then, I clearly wouldn’t randomly have an extra red shirt on me today, but I do have this red pen I never use that you can wear as flair.”

            “Forget it.”

            *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

            “Hi – you got a red scarf, or tie, or hat, or some other kind of accessory that I can borrow for the photo later?”

            “Really?  How could you have forgotten about that – we got all those memos and your manager even reminded you again yesterday!”

            “I don’t know, how could you have forgotten about your New Year’s resolution of spending more time with your kids?!”

            “Wow.  That was unnecessary.”

            “I am not myself today.”

            “It’s the cookie, isn’t it.”

            “…Maybe.”

            *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

            “Hey, would you miss those red suspenders if I appropriated them for about 10 minutes?”

            “My pants would, yes.”

            *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

            “Oh hi, you made it!  What are you wearing?”

            “It quite obviously is a maroon blazer.”

            “Made of taped-together construction paper?”

            “I don’t need to answer to you!”

            “Actually, you technically do.”

            FLASH!

            “Boy, that was great, I feel so part of a worthy cause, lives have been saved today because of me, now where’s the cookie set-up?”

            “Didn’t you get the e-mail earlier?  Corporate thought it would be a bit counter-message to serve sugary snacks when we’re supposed to be promoting healthy hearts, so they scrapped that whole deal last-minute.”

            “Oh.”

            “However, they did have these car magnets all made up – ”

            “Mine!”

Story 223: Binge-Reading

            (Co-Worker 1 sees Co-Worker 2 slump onto the chair at the adjoining desk; Co-Worker 2 has bleary eyes, messy hair, and an all-round dissipated look)

            Co-Worker 1: Wow, you look hideous.

            Co-Worker 2: I know.

            Co-Worker 1: I mean it – you look like someone literally rolled you.  In garbage.

            Co-Worker 2: Thanks.

            Co-Worker 1: I mean, your face –

            Co-Worker 2: I need you to shut up now.  (Holds head while taking five aspirin)

            (Co-Worker 1 tries to go back to work, then turns to face Co-Worker 2 again)

            Co-Worker 1: All right, spill it: did you go on an actual binge this weekend?

            Co-Worker 2: (Lying head on desk) Of sorts.

            Co-Worker 1: I knew it!  You always say you don’t drink, but this place drives everyone to it – I knew it was only a matter of time – I had a bet going with –

            Co-Worker 2: It wasn’t alcohol.

            Co-Worker 1: Huh?  Oh.  (Peers into Co-Worker 2’s face) Ohh, now I know that look.  You binge-watched something all weekend, didn’t you.  Let me guess: all 27 seasons of Sword Slash?

            Co-Worker 2: Hardly.

            Co-Worker 1: All 15 films of the Astro Conflicts saga, including the animated series and the short-lived puppet show?

            Co-Worker 2: No!  (In a small voice) I saw those when they came out.

          Co-Worker 1: (Leans in again, conspiratorially) No one else has to know – it was Hearts Restrained by Corsets and Honor, wasn’t it?

            Co-Worker 2: Ew, no.

            Co-Worker 1: All right, it’s just that some people enjoy the writing on that show, you know.  Nothing to be ashamed of.

            Co-Worker 2: (Leans back in chair to administer eye drops) Well, you’ll never guess because I didn’t binge-watch anything; I actually binge-read.

            Co-Worker 1: Binge… read?  As in, a book?

            Co-Worker 2: Yes.  With words and everything.

            Co-Worker 1: Are you taking an English class or something?

            Co-Worker 2: No; I’d always wanted to read it, that’s all.  We had the snow this weekend, so I thought it was as good a time as any.  Got a comfy blanket, got some tea, played some soothing piano music, and… read.

            Co-Worker 1: Wow.  What did you read?

            Co-Worker 2: All three books of The Master of the Bangles.  Although, I don’t know if I can really count that as three separate books since they were originally published as one large volume.  Took me from Friday night through to 3:00 this morning, with five-minute breaks for whatever.

            Co-Worker 1: You read that?  I don’t get it – why didn’t you just watch the movies, you’d’ve been done in half a day!

            Co-Worker 2: (Gives a withering look) It’s not the same.

          Co-Worker 1: It’s close enough!  The filmmakers said they were very faithful to the source material!  And how’d you even finish those things in one weekend anyway, they must have been over a thousand pages long!  Each!

            Co-Worker 2: Grand total was 1,372.  Including the appendices.

          Co-Worker 1: Appendices!  I’m not working that hard for something that’s supposed to be entertainment!  (Sees alert on phone) Ooh, the next installment of the unauthorized Sword Slash Encyclopedia was just released.  (Sees Co-Worker 2 staring) It’s not the same!

          Co-Worker 2: Well, you binge on whatever you want to binge on – I personally feel very fulfilled in reading what is considered to be a classic, and my brain feels all the more enriched by the experience.

            Co-Worker 1: Whatever you say.  A binge is still a binge, though, and you feel slightly gross and ashamed afterwards no matter the material or the medium.

            Co-Worker 2: (Cradles head on arms, leaning on the desk) At the moment, I couldn’t agree more.

             Co-Worker 1: (Hesitates) Got something lined up for next weekend?

            Co-Worker 2: (Perks up) Oh yeah: The Complete Collection of the John Houses Mysteries, Unabridged.

            Co-Worker 1: Nice!  Mind if I come over and binge-read those with you?

            Co-Worker 2: If you want, but you’ll have to wait until I finish at least the first set – spoiler alert, the last set is shorter because the author killed off the main character so he could end the series.

            Co-Worker 1: It’s not a spoiler if it’s been published over 100 years ago.

Story 222: When I Grow Up….

            Child, Age 6: Momma, Poppa: when I grow up, I’m going to be a doctor, a police officer, a ballet dancer, and a firefighter.

            Mother: That’s great honey – now get ready for school.

            Child, Age 6: Aw, do I have to?

            Father: If you want to have any of those careers, yes.

            Child, Age 6: OK – oh, and I also want to be an international spy.

            Mother: Well isn’t that nice.  (Mentally reviews toys currently in the house for ones that may need to be relocated)

            Child, Age 10: Mom?  How much schooling do I need to be a barrister?

            Mother: That’s in England, sweetie: if you want to be a lawyer here, then you have to go to law school after college.

            Child, Age 10: Oh.  How about if I want to be a lion tamer?

          Mother: I believe that’s a mix between being a part of the family business and on-the-job training.

            Child, Age 10: Oh.  I think I want to be a politician.

           Mother: If you want, but be prepared to have half your constituents hate you and the other half asking you for favors all the time.

            Child, Age 10: Cool.

           Child, Age 18: Dad, do you know who I should contact if I want to work for a newspaper after college?

          Father: That’s great – I think I know a few people, and I’m sure your school’s career center can help with an internship.  Interested in being a reporter, eh?

          Child, Age 18: I actually want one day to be in charge of the Obituaries.  I find all those stories absolutely fascinating.

            Father: …OK.

            Father: So, how’s life in the obits?

           Child, Age 20: Kind of limiting, really.  They have me also doing features on local restaurants and community carnivals, and the whole thing day in, day out, week in, week out, and on and on is getting a bit repetitive.  I don’t think I can stay in this business for the next half-century, if I even last that long.

            Father: Have you been looking into anything else, then?  What about your goals way-back when of being a lawyer, or a doctor?  Or a ballet dancer?

            Child, Age 20: Dad, I haven’t wanted to be a ballet dancer since I was a kid!

            Father: And what are you now?

            Child, Age 20: Dad!  But seriously, I don’t know, maybe I’ll try doing the doctor thing.

            Father: “Try”??

            Child, Age 22: So Mom, hate to have to tell you this, but I decided to take some courses to be a CPA now.

            Mother: Your major was English.

            Child, Age 22: Yeah, but that can translate into almost any career – that’s the beauty of it.

           Mother: If that’s what you really want.  You do realize that this round of schooling’s on you, yes?

            Child, Age 22: Huh?  I mean, yeah, I knew that.

         Child, Age 30: Mom, Dad: I wanted to let you know that I can’t stand being a paralegal anymore and I decided to go back to school to become a physician’s assistant.  Or a nurse practitioner – you know, whichever.

           Mother: That’s great, hon, but are you sure you want to change careers so drastically?  It’s a lot more schooling, and what if you wind up not liking it?

            Father: Or you’re just no good at it?  (Mother lightly smacks him)

           Child, Age 30: I’m sure it’ll all be worth it.  I’ve always wanted to help people, and I know I’ll never be able to do the whole doctor bit so I figured this would be the next best thing.

          Mother: It’s going to be a lot of work and dedication, though, plus malpractice insurance – what if you get sued? –

            Child, Age 30: But Mom, it’s such a noble profession!

            Child, Age 35: So, I think me wanting to be a P.A. was a bit of a mistake.

            Mother: How’s that, dear?

          Child, Age 35: Turns out that, try as I might, I really don’t like people that much, and I’m really not that good at medicine.  Or math.  Or stressful situations.  Or life.

            Father: All right, you’ve figured that out, now what?

           Child, Age 35: I think I’ll go join the Peace Corps, or some other worthwhile cause.  Maybe then I’ll feel fulfilled.

            Mother: What about going back to journalism, hm?

            Child, Age 35: I guess, if I wanted to kill my soul!

            Mother: Don’t be dramatic; you have to do something with your life, though.

            Child, Age 35: I know, you’re right.  It’s the whole paradox of choice that’s getting me down, is all.

            Father: I can solve that for you by enlisting you in the reserves.

            Child, Age 35: That would be something.  Yes, I think that will do nicely –

            Father: Thank goodness.

            Child, Age 35: – for now.