Thursday. Day of 8:30 meetings Not so bad, I usually say what I need to say after Marcus speaks his piece. I try to put a humorous slant on my take; sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. I have found jokes about men in vans with candy near school yards are not as funny in the morning as they could be at night.
It’s what they call Friday eve, which is nice enough though not quite there. Bill was on the road, and Mike was incommunicado, which takes him off the favored nations list and relegates him to ordinary. After a year, there are still some aspects which are a bit off-putting.
Yesterday he spoke of his idea, to rent a car which Bill would drive, and a road trip to Atlantic City. A visit to a casino, a $10.00 limit on slot machine gambling, and all that. I do not want to go to Atlantic City and tried to get that point across. Mike insisted, but I know that all I have to do is tell Bill that I do not want to go to Atlantic City and we will not.
Plus, after Mike’s behavior on my birthday trip to Long Branch, on my birthday could sway Bill in the direction of not wanting to do anything beach-related with Mike. Mike was a fucking sourpuss and made no effort to be fun or wish me a happy birthday, so there’s that whole ‘Fuck you, Mike’.
I mentioned Sandy Hook, Asbury Park, and Ocean Grove, which flew right over Mike’s head. It’s his idea, but it’s our wheels, and you can’t have one without the other. Bill and I have been discussing Ocean Grove this summer, which we did not do last year. Neither one of us has heard anything from Ocean View Inn, so perhaps we need to take the initiative.
I just sent off a short email saying hello and a rather clumsy inquiry. We shall see how it works out.
And Annemarie is coming for 10 days at the end of June until July 3. I have to accumulate the time to take off since the agency does not give personal time off, but rather that personal time off needs to be earned. The next holiday is Memorial Day at the end of May which seems far off but as one goes through life, it sometimes feels sped up.
I just read a short article about 2 young ISIS-inspired wannabe terrorists who were going to attempt to injure or kill dozens during a protest by Gracie Mansion. Let’s face it, these young people are deadly and foolish, and this is just the beginning. We are probably going to see more of this behavior as life goes on. Foolish young people, mainly men, are plotting to do things to injure or kill people.
Not all of them will be caught and their nefarious actions will occur. People will be injured or killed because of a foolish ideology, much like the young and foolish ideology that I once had for the IRA. A different time, a different world, but with the same ignorance.
The awfulness of TD Bank and their antisocial tellers. TD Bank has a new campaign about real talk. The teller I dealt with was barely communicating. Chit chat was not her thing. I had just gotten a $20.00 bill from the ATM and wanted to get a ten, a five and five singles.
I gave the masked teller the $20 and my debit card which was handed back to me with the instructions to put it in the keypad and enter my PIN. As this was going on I asked the masked teller how things were going in Toronto.
She was confused as I explained TD stands for Toronto Dominion and I was just trying some chit chat, like humans that used to bank in the 20th century used to do.
Overall it was an unpleasant experience and a reminder of why I rarely visit the TD Bank tellers or whatever they call themselves nowadays.
Afrika Bambaatta, 67
The Google Gemini humorous rewrite
The Thursday Gauntlet: From 8:30 AM Bombs to the “Toronto” Incident
Thursday is officially “Friday Eve,” a title that carries the same desperate energy as a participation trophy. It’s the day of the 8:30 AM meeting, a time slot clearly designed by someone who hates both productivity and joy. I usually wait for Marcus to finish his piece before I jump in with my own brand of commentary.
I like to think of myself as the office’s “vibe curator,” attempting to inject a bit of humor into the dry-erase-marker-fumes of the morning. However, I’ve learned a hard lesson: jokes about men in windowless vans offering candy near schoolyards do not land well before 9:00 AM. In a dive bar at midnight? Classic. In a fluorescent-lit conference room while Dave from Accounting is nursing a lukewarm K-Cup? It’s a one-way ticket to an awkward silence so heavy you could use it as a paperweight.
The “Ordinary” Mike Problem
Currently, the social hierarchy is in flux. Bill is on the road, and Mike has been officially relegated from the “Favored Nations” list to “Ordinary Status” for being incommunicado.
Mike has this grand vision for a road trip: he wants to rent a car—which Bill would drive, naturally—and trek down to Atlantic City. His itinerary involves a $10.00 limit on slot machines and, I assume, the crushing depression that only a midday casino floor can provide. I’ve tried to gently explain that I’d rather do almost anything else, but Mike is persistent.
Fortunately, I hold the ultimate trump card: The Bill Whisperer. Mike can insist all he wants, but I know that if I tell Bill I have zero interest in the neon-lit sadness of Atlantic City, the car stays in the driveway.
Besides, I’m still nursing a grudge from my birthday trip to Long Branch. Mike was a world-class sourpuss. He made no effort to be fun, didn’t wish me a happy birthday, and generally radiated the energy of a damp wool blanket. If he thinks we’re going to spend our summer chasing his “ideas” while Bill and I are dreaming of the Victorian charms of Ocean Grove, he’s got another thing coming. I sent a “clumsy” email to the Ocean View Inn to get the ball rolling. It’s our wheels, Mike. You can’t have the horsepower without the host.
The Cost of Living (and Leaving)
Annemarie is coming to visit for ten days in June, which is wonderful, except for the fact that my agency treats Personal Time Off like a rare mineral that must be mined from the earth with a pickaxe. There is no “giving” of time; there is only the slow, agonizing “earning” of it.
I’m looking toward Memorial Day like a man lost at sea looking for a lighthouse. Life seems to be speeding up—the older you get, the more the weeks feel like they’re being played at 1.5x speed on YouTube.
A Moment of “Real Talk”
I caught a headline today about two young ISIS-inspired wannabes plotting a protest at Gracie Mansion. It’s a grim reminder that “deadly and foolish” is a potent, recurring combination in the human experience.
It hit a bit close to home, honestly. It reminded me of the youthful, ignorant ideology I once held for the IRA. It was a different world and a different time, but the underlying ignorance—that fiery, misguided certainty of youth—remains the same. We’re going to keep seeing this. Not everyone gets caught, and people will continue to pay the price for the “nefarious actions” of the foolish. It’s a sobering thought that stays with you long after you close the browser tab.
The Toronto Dominion Stand-off
To top off the week, I had a run-in with the “antisocial” tellers at TD Bank. They’ve launched a new “Real Talk” campaign, which is ironic because my teller was about as communicative as a brick wall in a surgical mask.
I had a $20 bill and simply wanted change—a ten, a five, and five ones. Simple, right? In the 20th century, this was called “banking.” Today, it’s a high-security clearance event. She made me slide my debit card into the keypad and enter my PIN just to swap one piece of paper for another.
Trying to break the icy tension, I asked, “So, how are things going in Toronto?”
She stared at me, blinking, her confusion palpable even behind the mask. I explained that TD stands for Toronto Dominion and I was just trying to engage in some “human chit-chat.” She looked at me like I was trying to explain quantum physics to a goldfish.
I left the branch reminded of why I avoid the “human” tellers and stick to the machines. At least the ATM doesn’t pretend it’s having “Real Talk” while treating me like a suspicious stranger in my own neighborhood.
So, here’s to Thursday. Only twenty-four hours until Friday, and hopefully, zero hours of Atlantic City.
How are your own “Friday Eve” plans shaping up—are you steering clear of any Atlantic City-style traps this weekend?