I find it amazing how easy it is to block out your surroundings when you're deep in thought. It's almost as if your mind builds a wall around you so that you are protected from all that is not what it deems important. I'm not one to think a lot, but I couldn't seem to do much else for those couple of weeks. I guess big decisions do that to you when you're used to someone else making them for you.
"Andrew! Are you ok? You seem kinda out of it..."
I nodded my head and replied "Y-yeah I'm fine sorry. What were you saying?"
It was at this point that I realized how ridiculously cold it was at the bus stop that Thursday. I didn’t hear what Sara, my morning bus stop buddy, had to say for a second time; I was too focused on how it could be so cold still in June. My hair on my arm stood as if it was at attention under my suit jacket and my teeth began chattering. I nervously checked my watch, as was my custom when I felt impatient. 7:07. Seven of my precious minutes had been burned by someone else’s tardiness. I’ve never been one to wait on people happily.
“Where is this damn bus?” I groaned.
“Seriously, Drew what’s wrong? I’ve never seen you so on edge.”
I just turned towards the road and tapped my left foot three times, then my right. Finally, I saw that filthy public transit bus pop over the hill; welcome to the most exciting part of my day. It was on this 48 minute bus ride that I observed some of the most interesting people and habits I had ever seen in my life. It was also one of the most diverse environments I had the pleasure of being a part of: I saw men and women in love, crack heads, teens that didn’t have cars, men and women in uniform, transients, hung over men from last night’s bar escapades, and every morning there was one person who was in awe of the scene, a newcomer.
I often wondered what these people thought of me, what category I fell into. I liked to think that I was the type of man that everyone thought seemed out of place, because the truth is I probably was. With a salary of over $240,000 a year, I had no business riding the bus every morning. I found some sort of sick comfort in this ritual though. It reminded me of a simpler time, when I didn’t have a CEO breathing down my neck and I could go fishing or camping on the weekends. I think it made me feel just a little less disgusted with the work I did. I secretly hated my life; the problem was I didn’t even know that I did at that point. It would only take me about three hours to figure it all out though.
As I walked absentmindedly into the office building I was immediately bombarded by interns asking if I needed anything or if there was something for them to do. I shed each of them by assigning random, worthless bits of work, anything to get my extra 53 seconds of peace during my elevator ride to the 12th floor. I snapped twice with my left hand and clicked the number 12. The sudden change in temperature when I entered the building made me start to sweat, so I wiped my brow as the doors slid open with a ding.
“Damnit Wilson why are you late?!” Mr. Grogden, the head CEO, snapped at me as I walked in the door.
“Sir, I’m 20 minutes early today,” I shot back.
“Well that obviously isn’t early enough. What have you figured out about the Hanson project? The president is barking up my tree and I’ve been going to bat for you but I can’t stall him any longer!”
“My report is almost finished and will be on your desk by the end of the day sir.” I had to count down from 11 in my head to keep from losing it.
“Get your ass to work then and don’t bother me until you’ve finished!”
The Hanson project was this idea that Grogden had cooked up in an attempt to give the appearance of giving back to the community. In all actuality, we were on a path of rampant destruction of one neighborhood, Valley Springs, while drawing attention towards the one on our block that we were “donating” a park to. It was injustice at its finest, a sweet candy with a sour inside. It had come to be my responsibility to plan the attack and pull it off swiftly and quietly. I was the double agent, the inside man that Valley Springs trusted, only to find themselves betrayed and looking for new homes for the sole reason of company expansion. This part of the plan was called “Shit or Get Off the Pot Time.”
I had spent most of the past two weeks stalling. I made it look like I was working and manipulating, but the manipulation part was at a standstill. I was only making it harder on myself. Befriending those you are about to pull the rug out from under is breaking cardinal rule number one when screwing people over. I decided my sweat had nothing to do with the temperature change.
I only made it ‘til about mid morning before I began the march back to Grogden’s office. I had been staring at a blank report for over two hours prior to then, and had managed to accomplish nothing besides enhance the stomach ache I’d been suffering from all morning. I took a deep breath, blinked four times and pushed open the office doors without so much as a knock.
That Saturday I was up in the woods, well out of cell phone coverage and far from the world of public transit and heartless CEOs, completely at peace with myself.
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