Might Be Time To Do Something About It

I'm at The Asylum this morning.

Get a phone call from another store - the store I used to work at - the store where five older gentlemen worked together smoothly, slickly and with constant laughter.

Call was from The E Man - the guy I was closest to due to his emotional vulnerability. He wears it on his sleeve like I do.

We had many honest, heartfelt conversations. And we laughed. A lot. A whole hell of a lot.

I have explored this topic before, how it makes me feel to reconnect with him on a purely honest level for a minute - maybe two - on the phone and then have to go back to the intensely meaningless and phony atmosphere that permeates the store I currently inhabit.

But today I put an exclamation point on it.

I released a couple of belly laughs while talking to him and tried to keep him on the phone as long as possible.

When I hung up, my head was inflated to twice its size out of rage. Rage at the painful and intense realization of where I was before and where I am now.

I was standing at a register. Boxes piled up next to me for easy access to better accommodate our deserving customers.

I let out an angry groan and slammed my fist into the boxes, knocking four or five onto the floor.

The only problem was, there were a lot of customers in the store. Many of them up front near the registers, all of whom stopped to look at me.

I quietly picked up the boxes and commenced to smiling again.

It might be time for me to do something about this unforgivable situation I have boxed myself into.