Limpy sbo Gimpy

 

I had to stop at the S&K; on the way to work. We have this giant rear screen projector as part of the new fake-TV set, and I have to wear a sportcoat that fits. For a good year or two I had my weight totally under control, but as is usually the case, I lost focus and gained pounds. In my job things like weight and hairstyle, the dimple in my tie and the fuzzballs on my coat, are under constant scrutiny. My General Manager is the undisputed KING of dapper dressers and last week he called me into his office for a momumental chat.

Just moments before my last workday of the week, before a short vacation and knee surgery, he stopped me in the hall and said, “Make sure you come to my office before you leave today, we need to talk about something important.”

Later that same day he asked again, in the way that any boss actually ASKS for anything, “Don’t forget, you can’t leave today without talking to me first.”

So after my story was written, and all preparations were made, I visited the plush corner office ready for, at best, a dressing down. I couldn’t think of anything I’d done wrong, but the first words out his mouth were these, “I hope you know I DO like you,” he said, before turning to actually face me, “but you may take this the wrong way.”

BLUR

I suppose most of my life has been as unfocused as my writing. Every effort begins with a too-ambitious goal, obtainable only by too-strenuous determination, which I always half-accomplish. I’m actually struggling to complete this line of thought. I’ve been swept into a chat with TV’S Marc about Hurricane Katrina. I’ll probably finish this post in a …