By M. Cohen


For Yeese with many more to come……


Have you ever thought:

What if I didn’t…..?

or maybe

What if I did…?

“What IFS”….Life is full of them.


Before…….

He wasn’t sure why he volunteered. What if he never volunteered? No, volunteered wasn’t the right word. He wasn’t sure why he signed up. He received an inquiry via email attempting to entice candidates by rewarding them with 3 days of service work. How work can be perceived as a reward was the very question the man pondered. He eyed the email dubiously. Usually a message of this caliber would be deemed trash, annoying spam mail that over-saturates your inbox. But this email was different. The man couldn’t wrap his head around why…..The sender? K.P.O. Its format? Simple, plain terms organized like any brief invitational style letter. The letterhead was non-descript, but bold in its font tattooed across the screen, simply screaming K-P-O to the reader. Its abbreviation spelled out? Negative. No, the only thing clear about this email was its message: congratulatory praise, worthy of celebrating for a “golden opportunity” was offered/

The man stroked his chin that wore a shadow of no fewer than four days. Bleary eyed from dozens of consecutive sleepless nights, his heart, a metronome in his chest as it continued to beat… Hunger picked at his ribs, yet could not eat. His mouth, a haven for cotton balls, his throat, scratchier than sandpaper, yet he would not drink. The stubble on his upper lip and cheeks begged for a shape up, but the normally well-groomed man would not shave. He couldn’t. All he could do was think. A distant alarm sounded in his ears, or was it in his apartment building? He returned to reality escaping his overnight daze. He’d done it again. Another sleepless night. The sound of his neighbor’s auto-drip coffee machine had interrupted his incessant daydream. He cleared his mouse pad which was covered with loose papers, resumes, help-wanted ads, and cover letters. The dim desk lamp shone upon the mess with cascading light seeming to highlight the man’s sorry state of affairs. His eyes returned to the monitor, but his mind had never left. He could read the words off the screen, but it was just a visual fixation at this point, for he knew the words by heart. He read them anyway. “CONGRATULATIONS! “You’ve been selected as a finalist to receive a golden opportunity” This so called “golden opportunity” wasn’t terribly clear, but its potential prize purse was…. “in return for your service work, pending its completion, you will receive a sum of 30,000 “Wow! a whopping figure!” the man thought. “What I could do with that amount of loot!” he thought jubilantly.
For this man needed financial prosperity, the allure of wealth, the jingle of coins in his pocket. But above all, he yearned for material possessions, no matter what the price. Without thinking, he printed the directions to K.P.O. and scribbled down the arrival time and folded the paper up placing it in his shirt pocket. He thought about a shower, but felt that very little at the present moment could upgrade his appearance. A quick Slick Stick under each armpit without removing his shirt was the man’s quick dose of hygiene. He looked at the alarm clock apprehensively that sat on his vertical suitcase that doubled as a nightstand. Just enough time for a cup of coffee” he thought to himself. Fumbling with his keys, he locked the apartment door behind him frowning at what he already decided was a dreary day. “With my luck, this poor excuse for a ride won’t even start…” he murmured to himself. In a dream he drove his 2005 Chevy Malibu to the bypass, following directions inscribed on the paper from his shirt pocket. About 40 miles or so later, (he couldn’t really be sure without his GPS) “I can’t believe I must drive and read these directions at the same time!” he ranted aloud in the car for nobody but himself to hear.
Gone were the days of his trusty GPS and the reassuring sound of a woman’s voice maintaining and monitoring his unfamiliar course. In about half and hour’s time, he arrived at his destination, a building that seemed drastically out of place.
In front of him, stood a sleek modern stone building like any other office building of three stories. The unique feature of this building was noticeable almost immediately. The rear of the building seemed to suspend itself over a mountainous cliff. The building otherwise was as nondescript as his invitation. Simply labeled KPO in red letters above the entranceway. Double-checking his watch, he apprehensively marched forward. A pair of sleek double glass frameless doors opened towards him, as if they were welcoming him to KPO. With some reservation, the man proceeded into the lobby only to have the doors automatically close behind him. Greeting him was absolutely nobody. An empty room without a reception desk or waiting room. The room had not a single ornamental decorative accent save for the fact that all the walls were covered in mirrors. One thing that did strike the man’s eye was a small glass table to the right of the entranceway. On it was a small glass jar. Its contents were empty but a card beneath it simply stated: Tipping for Good Karma”. Shrugging his shoulders the man thought to himself, “Foolish people these creators of these jars are…always seeking a handout. What do they want a tip for anyway? I’m the one who is here to provide service!” A wave of nervousness swept over him as he paced about the empty room, but nonetheless, he offered a meek, “Hello??? only to hear it echo about the room.
“Is anybody there?” his second attempt
Suddenly, a voiced boomed from nowhere in particular, threatening and a tad bit menacing,
“So this is Mr. Turnwell in the flesh… the man who is down on his luck, the man who now resides in a one bedroom demotion from his 10 bedroom house in the hills… The man who works hard, yet hardly works when it comes to the people that matter most. Ah yes William, the voice continued, welcome to the man who burned the candle on both ends while his family floundered…we’ve been expecting you” the voice beamed
“I don’t have to listen to you berate me like this, you have no right!” Will called aloud desperation ringing in his tone.
“Oh but you see, I do” the voice returned. I’d like to welcome you to KPO where your service is required.”
“Alright, enough with the secret codes, where is your voice coming from? and what does KPO stand for? Will asked
“Ahh questions, questions, and you want answers…and you shall have them….. in due time Mr. Turnwell, in due time. the voice maintained casting a smug sense of satisfaction.
“Can’t you at least tell me what I’m doing here?” Turnwell pleaded
“We here at the Karma Police Organization feel that you are a most suitable candidate for our company…
You’ve been summoned here in our ploy to have you rescued.
“Rescued?” Will returned. I’m the one who needs to call the police…I’ve been abducted! You have no right to kidnap me! I’ve been duped!” Will cried wishing to leave KPO at once.
“Let me remind you that you are here on your own accord, and are now in service with us for no fewer than three days….. or however long it takes….The PA system bellowed.
“ I came here to put in my work and leave here with quick cash” Will answered
“It is statements like that that have landed you in your sad predicament. I can see that we’ve got our work cut out for us” the voice continued. Here you will find no stairwell, only an elevator with one option. With you at least we’ve only got one way to go and that’s up! Best of luck to you Will Turnwell...”
With that, the voice was gone. Will, left all alone in an empty room with more questions than answers. Surrounded by mirrors in this modern lobby of a building he was almost forced to look at this reflection. He eyed the mirrors apprehensively for he knew how he looked. His clothing unkempt, his hair disheveled, his face haggard, his being, run-down and weary. Quickly looking away from the far too familiar reflection he’d been seeing lately, his forlorn finger pressed the button offering but one option: UP

I

In less than a minute’s time, the elevator chimed and the doors parted, Will was greeted with yet another reflection of himself as the four walls of the elevator mirrored his sorry stature. The control panel inside has just one button: I “What in the world could that mean?” Will thought to himself wondering if “I” was a Roman numeral.
Before he even took note of the absurdity of this elevator situation, he noticed a most peculiar thing. Adorning the walls of the elevator were photographs. Not just photos of anybody, but pictures of his family… A black and white photograph of his parents on their wedding day, a picture of himself grinning from ear to ear as a toddler missing many teeth. Next to that photo was a copy of his elementary school report card. Grinning the same grin, only with mature grown up teeth, Will strode across the six by six square of a room to push the I button. Just above the control panel was a color photo, nearly 30 years old from his childhood. He, his sister Michelle and his brother Luke were at an amusement park eating ice cream cones. “How odd!” Will thought. It’s almost as if this elevator was customized for me personally.” Adjacent to the picture of he and his siblings were objects of leisure adhered to the wall. A golfing score card from a fairly recent outing on the links, and a magazine advertisement of Dewar’s White, his favorite Scotch. His eyes gazed just to the right of the panel. Will stood stock-still, dumbfounded by the serendipity of such a photo in such an unfamiliar place. A color portrait photo of his wife, Cynthia was smiling directly at him. His favorite photo. It was taken just months before they met as college freshman. Cynthia, smiling and beautiful at the tender age of 17, her senior graduation picture. Will suddenly grew wistful, and longed to speak with her at that very moment.
It had been weeks, or it had it been months since they last spoke? He loved that picture. It had beautifully graced their mantle piece. Before. But no, he mustn’t think about that… He had service work to provide. Money to earn.
Without any further thought he pressed the I button, which he decided was a capital “I” and the elevator began to move. Will was surprised yet again. The elevator was undoubtedly heading down! “How odd” he thought. I was told that I’d be heading UP…
Seconds later, the doors of the elevator opened and Will couldn’t believe his eyes. Dozens of employees were moving about haphazardly, answering phones, viewing monitors, sending faxes, and pacing about. A massive formidable guardian stood by the door. Actually, there were two. The first a canine, that was clearly the largest dog he’d ever seen, the latter, a man in uniform no shorter than 6 ft 9 and no smaller than 260 pounds. The uniformed man looked to be cut from stone, muscular and well proportioned as if he could play power forward on any basketball team. As Will approached, the uniformed man, now unmistakably on duty uncrossed his arms.
“I was told to come up here, down here, whatever…” Will stated off-handedly.
“If you’re looking for KPO, you’ve come to the right place. If you could just please go ahead and sign in.” the guard instructed handing Will a pen. As he grabbed the pen, Will couldn’t help but notice the name tag of the man read: “T”
“Some name”.. Will remarked. “Is that your nick- name?”
“It’s what I go by around here, but its short for Tiny” he answered.
“You must play hoops somewhere I suppose Will asked in a presumptuous tone admiring Tiny’s height.
“That’s right” Tiny stated confidently
“That’s right what?” Will asked in a confused tone
“That’s right I play power-forward for the Cyclones and we made the NIT tournament last year” Tiny boasted
“What does that stand for the not-invited-tournament?” Will asked facetiously chiming in with his own cockiness.
“Very funny” Tiny murmured humbled by Will’s words.
“Best of Luck to you, here at “I” you’re gonna need it!” Tiny coyly chimed in.
Tiny opened the velvet rope, gaining Will admittance to I . Just before Will was out of earshot, Tiny added, Hey! What did you say your name was? “
“I didn’t.” Will smugly stated walking toward the reception desk.
At that moment the giant of a dog rose to its feet and timidly turned and sniffed Will’s hand.
“Hey pup” William welcomed. “He’s a bull mastiff isn’t he?” asking a busy employee.
“Umm I’m sorry sir, he is a she, and her name is Julliete” she responded walking away hurriedly, hands full of papers.
Almost simultaneously, a yellow tabby cat approached Julliete. Her paws receded from the doorway, frightened and almost retreating towards the center of “I’s” floor.
“Tiny!” a deep monotone voice boomed from nowhere in particular. “Send him in!”
“Third door on the right whatever your name is.” Tiny instructed. Will dodged the hustle and bustle of workers parading about the room, and quickly bee-lined for the third office on the right.
What if he just turned around now? What if he fled this strange organization at once, leaving all future “service work” from KPO behind him? Will’s thoughts were interrupted by a deep monotonous voice that was undoubtedly speaking to him.
“Top of the evening to you Mr. William Turnwell and welcome to KPO” a voice thundered from behind the desk.
“But it’s 8 o’clock in the morning?” Will stated puzzled
Rising from his seat, William noticed the man didn’t gain much height. What this short man lacked in vertical means, he made up for in mass. He wore a serious look on his face. A look that is used to giving orders. Willliam strode across the room to shake the man’s hand, but was snubbed as the man rose from his chair and turned to face the surveillance monitors behind his desk. “You’ve come here today Turnwell to learn a valuable lesson, or three, among other things.” the man stated, stroking his meticulously maintained mustache. Will easily noticed that the man was no taller than 5 ft 3 and was quite the meatball, tipping the scales at probably close to 250 pounds. The portly man continued, It’s no coincidence you’ve landed here in our department.”
“I’m sorry, what did you say your name was? Will inquired
“ I didn’t” the rotund man returned only to continue, “You see Turnwell, all things happen for a reason. You’ve lost countless nights of sleep for a reason. You live apart from your wife and children for a reason. You can’t remember the last time you were happy for a reason.” Will was stupefied that this man knew a great deal about him, and the look he wore on his face said it all. “Turnwell, my name is Mr. Slim and welcome to The Irony Department.”
“You mean to tell me, Will began, that all these employees work for Irony?”
“Yes sir, it’s what we like to call organized chaos” Mr. Slim beamed.
“What is this place? How many employees do you have here?” Will asked
“Here at Irony Turnwell, I’ve come to expect the unexpected. Nothing here really ever makes sense, it’s all just sensible. Yeah, you could say our 24 employees here are a small crowd but I’m terribly pleased with production this year” Mr. Slim rambled
“You mind telling me what I’m doing here?” Will pleaded
“I can tell from the look on your face that you want an explanation Turnwell. An explanation is a definite possibility. I think you’ll be awfully pleased to learn that we can help” Mr. Slim stated as he pulled a chair out for Will, now sitting at a table for two.
“Here at Irony we specialize in rather heavy ironic matters.” Slim began. “I’m not talking about looking for your cell phone in your pockets only to realize that you are talking to your mother on it, I’m talking about “Monkey’s Paw” kind of irony, real high school English stuff. Yes, O.Henry’d be proud of our department…” Slim beamed.
“OK I get it. “ Will stated hastily, things here are a little backwards, or as you say, ironic… but what has that got to do with me?”
Shaking his head in a disapproving fashion Mr. Slim glared at Will, anxious to speak his position.
“Turnwell, it’s a tad bit too ironic for you to understand that it was your greed that has lead to your timely rescue.” Slim began
“Come again?” Will asked clearly befuddled
“Your lust for monetary wealth and financial rewards is the only reason you volunteered your “services” here at KPO”…
“That’s not…” Will began
“Excuse me, but I wasn’t finished Turnwell. Close your mouth and open up your ears, we are here to help. This is a dose of irony I simply can’t stomach. Irony has extended you a lifeline and you treat us like the bad guys”. Slim stated in a most frustrated tone.
Humbled, Will Turnwell listened. He listened to Mr. Slim, a complete stranger who had taken an uncanny interest in his sorry state of affairs. For what seemed like hours, Slim expounded on Turnwell’s insatiable thirst for always wanting more. His four bedroom house, Mercedes Benz, and Bretling watch were all prized possessions that Will had worked very hard for, working six and sometimes seven days a week. Family vacations over winter and spring break made his wife Cynthia and children Sam and Ellie thrilled. The whole family was content and pleased. Happy. But not Will. Slim pointed out the absurdity of a family of four needing a ten-bedroom house. How a Breitling watch keeps just as good time as a Rolex, and most importantly, how his former vehicle, the Benz and the Chevy Malibu he drove to KPO this very morning did just as good of a job as the Rolls Royce he just had to buy.
“There you are Mr. Slim our lite fare lunch is served” an apron-wearing server emerged from the kitchen catching Will by surprise.
“Bon appetite” she announced in an accent Will decided was not real French. He frowned, almost sulking at the seafood delicacy placed in front of him.
“Smatter Turnwell? Don’t you like Jumbo Shrimp cocktail?
“I’m allergic to shellfish” he revealed ruefully. Oh what? You haven’t got that on your surveillance screens?
“It’s a shame Turnwell, you’re gonna need serious brain food for the thinking that is ahead of you” Slim threatened, only to continue quickly, “Meanwhile back at the ranch, where were we? Slim asked adjusting the napkin he now wore as a bib. “We were talking about Greed and where it has taken you. The prevalence you’ve placed on material things, the Rolex, The Royce, the 10 bedroom estate you just had to call home” Slim said with his mouth full now rolling his eyes at the absurdity of Will’s purchases.
“Why do they call them “jumbo shrimp?” Will wondered aloud pretending not to listen… I mean when my son Sammy was the smallest kid in his class, Cynthia said the kids teased him calling him a little shrimp. Cocktail sauce being wiped from his chin, Slim was waiting patiently for his audience to refocus. Innately, Will had never lost his focus. He was beginning now to see the foolishness in his ways, yet he stubbornly interjected, “But I worked so hard for those things! I built my company from nothing!”
Slim shot him a contemptuous glance, leveling Will with his eyes, now fierce and penetrating from under his bald wrinkly forehead. Will resumed his subservient position once again closing his mouth and opening his ears.
Slim continued, “Isn’t it ironic that once you had all of those things you undeniably worked so hard for that you still weren’t content? You were on top of the world! The bread winner, the king of the castle! A hero in the eyes of your family…but not in your eyes. You still had a thirst that could not be quenched. A hunger that you could not feed” Slim’s face was now a crimson color as his voice continued to rise. Will knew what was coming next. He cringed at the thought of it. “It hurt to remember…It made such sense at the time, and my intentions were so good” he thought to himself.
“You took your family’s savings and livelihood and risked it all on the stock market!” Slim was now thundering in a roguish tone now nearly screaming, “Not a conservative business move, but a radical move that jeopardized your family’s financial stability! Sam and Ellie’s college money!” Tears welled in Will’s eyes as he now knew that Greed has gotten the best of him. Indeed it was ironic, he played hard. Too hard, hoping for the big score. The ultimate payout, only to lose it all. Inherently, Will had always known the error of his ways and was slowly learning that Greed was a destructive force that had gotten the best of him. But stubbornness of Will’s caliber cannot be put down with one simple lecture. He needed to hear more. He needed advice, consulting from an expert.
“So what do you recommend I do now?” Will asked, not quite impatient, but pretty close to it.
“Advice is what we ask for when we already know the answer but wish we didn’t’” Slim maintained.
“Oh great, now you are going to philosophize on me?” Will wondered aloud
“Turnwell, allow me to quote one of the great Civil Rights activists of all time. Frederick Douglass once stated, ‘At a time like this, scorching irony, not a convincing argument is needed.’ “You have known the answer to your problems all along, but I will do my best to deliver your needed advice in simple terms” Slim stated pushing his finished lite fare lunch aside.
“Real Wealth, Pure Wealth isn’t measured in material means.”
“I’m not sure I understand” Will wallowed now terribly antsy in his seat
“Simplicity breeds contentment.” Slim maintained before recalling something he had seen in a shore house bathroom, , The best things in life aren’t things he said hoping he remembered it correctly.
“Now you’ve really confused me” Will cried, all patience now lost as the server cleared away his uneaten jumbo shrimp cocktail.
“Think of it this way, Slim maintained, pausing as if in deep reverent thought. . . “Less is More” he finally announced smiling as if he had answered the correct question in class. Will simply stared at him. Not a blank glassy stare, but a discerning and contemplative stare. Silence. Nothing. A staring contest ensued between Slim and Will. Aeons seemed to pass before finally Will spoke apprehensively, “But if less is more, how can we keep score?”
Relieved, Slim smiled. “I had a feeling you were going to ask that. I’m afraid that Irony is out of answers.
“What? So that’s it huh? Will cried. That’s how you do here at Irony? Just when I’ve scratched the surface towards understanding, you leave me high and dry…once again thirsty for more? I find that also to be ironic!” Will thundered as he was now turning scarlet.
The truth in Will’s last statement seemed to have gone home and Slim became slightly defensive. “KPO isn’t a one department operation. Your elevator is waiting for you Turnwell. The good news is that you’ve only one direction to go and that is UP. I think you will find your answers there…
-


F


Following Mr. Slim’s guidance, Will exited the café in Irony with more questions than answers. Only feeling slightly better, he ambled towards the elevator doors. Bidding a swift “so long” to Tiny and Juliette, he couldn’t help but wonder what was in store for him upstairs.
“So long!” It was a pleasure meeting you!” Tiny added sarcastically.
“The pleasure was all yours…” Will added curtly as he pressed the “up” arrow.
Feeling slightly guilty, he turned to Tiny and called, “My name is Will. Thanks for your hospitality Tiny, and good luck next season.” With an affectionate wave, the elevator doors closed in front of him. Slightly puzzled, Will saw but one choice on the control panel in front of him: F “Reminds me of my Spanish grade” he chuckled.
Again his eyes were transfixed upon the photo portrait of Cynthia, her senior yearbook photo. The picture that he loved. The picture of his parents were still there, only across from them were new photos and images, pictures of his sister Michelle and brother Luke, now with their husband and wife. Additionally, there was a picture of his Mercedes Benz, the first purchase he made after his business turned a profit, the first family home, a framed picture, giving it a nostalgic-like appearance. Along side this was a Best Buy advertisement of his Blackberry. Feeling a little spooked, Will took a step back separating himself from the far too authentic images showcased on the elevator walls. Looking left, he was slightly surprised to find more on the other side. Also featured was a glossy color print of his office building, his home away from home, a familiar site, perhaps too familiar as it was where he spent perhaps 80% of his time.
Adjacent to his office building photo was a catalog advertisement of his Bretling, his first real watch. He remembered seeing this for the first time and how he had lusted after it. “God this takes me back…nearly 20 years!” He thought as he pressed the F button now illuminated. He felt some assurance now that he indeed was heading “up”. He rode. His thoughts scurried like fruit in a blender as to what his immediate future may hold.
The doors of the elevator parted on the I floor. Contrasting greatly with Irony, there wasn’t a soul in sight….no small crowd, no waitress serving shellfish, no organized chaos. Just music. Not contemporary music, but music that was familiar to Will’s ears. Billie Jean’s not my love… she’s just a girl..said that I was the one…wanna dance on the floor… Bobbing his head to the beat, Will clearly recognized this iconic tune. He smiled as this tune took him back.. way back. Nostalgia cast over him like a tubular wave as he remembered hearing this song for the first time as a teenager. He would moonwalk about his parent’s house wielding his white glittered glove. A melancholy-like sadness suddenly swept over him. Will couldn’t put his finger on why such an upbeats song sunk sadness into his spirit. Dumfounded by such a surprising turn of emotions, he sought out a seat on this floor. Although there were no occupants of F , the seating was plentiful and it was outfitted like any typical office building although extremely outdated looking. There was a board room, in desperate need of a makeover, wood paneling surrounded the level with square windows every couple of meters. The light cast upon the waiting room section was rather feeble. Wondering why, Will inspected the windows only to learn that they weren’t windows at all, but glass blocks. “This place probably was the cream of the crop in the 80’s” he chuckled to himself recognizing that it needed a facelift on all fronts.
He wasn’t the slightest bit surprised to discover the waiting room sofa, covered in vinyl zipper covers. Resting his weary bones on the sofa, the crinkle on the couch was an ancient, yet familiar sound. It reminded him of his mother’s cooking. He could just smell the comfort food wafting from his mother’s kitchen, meatloaf and mashed potatoes. Bleary eyed, he rested his cheek upon his hand, elbow promptly propped upon the armrest. He suddenly felt so exhausted, worn down. His body, or was it the couch that was to tempting him to nap? Eyelids fluttering, exhaustion seemed to be winning this battle. Shut-eye. That’s all he needed just a little shut-eye. What if he resisted this urge to nap? Closing his eyes, but for just a minute…. he slept…….

“Will! Dinner is ready! “ a voice echoed from the floor below
“I’ll be right down Mom” a post-pubescent voice answered.
A few minutes passed with not a sound of anyone venturing down the stairs. The sound of the chef knife echoed about the kitchen. Teary eyed from mincing onions, Mom called once again, “William! It’s on the table!”
Shuffling sounds from above turned into thunderous booms descending the stairs. Will was hurrying now, for he knew that when his mother used his full name, she meant business. Swiftly sinking into his seat, his mother seemed frustrated. “How many times must I call you?” she fumed. “Day and night, you spend all of your time playing on that computer” she continued.
“Mom, it’s not playing.” Will defended. “I’m working.”
“You call that work?” Mom thundered. “Your father is out all day bustin his hump so we can have food on this very table, and you stare at a little TV screen all day! You should be out trying to find some college to accept you!”
Will bit his tongue for he knew what was coming next. Mom just didn’t seem to pick up on this technology thing.
“You stare all day at that little TV screen, just ratting about the screen.” Will remained calm. He’d heard this speech before. His mother, a broken record, when it came to her understanding of technology. He began mixing his meatloaf with his mashed potatoes playfully when he chimed in,
“Mom, it’s actually a mouse, not a rat. I’m just lucky because not many people have them.” Will boasted
“Mouse, rat, whatever…this house ain’t got no mouse and sure as hell doesn’t’ have no damn rat, and I plan on keeping it that way! She boomed only to continue, “Pesky rodents, tryin to steal my heat…they ain’t chippin in for the bills!” Mom pressed on, clueless to the newest invention her son now possessed.
During all this time, Michelle and Luke had been relatively quiet except for the fact they kept smirking at one another. Michelle began hiding her creamed corn, she was clearly not a fan in the mashed potatoes as she listened to her older brother’s defense. Luke began eying his older brother with admiring eyes, hoping one day to be as tall as him. Dad, Mr. Turnwell, was still at work, a union man, clocking overtime making some extra dough for his family.
Once Mrs. Turnwell cooled her jets, she began her routine conversational gambit asking Michelle and Luke how their day at school was. Will was zoned out, not in tune with his brother and sister’s responses. He seemed to have something on his mind. During the next lull in conversation, Will dropped the news on everybody, shocking news that would catch everyone by surprise. “I think I am going to ask Cynthia to marry me.” Forks dropped, as silence met incredulous faces. Luke began laughing so hard that milk began pouring from his nose like a faucet. Michelle chuckled at the thought of her older brother having a wife. Mom was dumbfounded, speechless. But not for long.
“William! Again using his full name. …you haven’t got any money nor a pot to piss in!” she screamed. Luke and Michelle now giggling at their mother’s rare use of profanity, thankful it was on Will not them. Smiling, Will seemed to be prepared for such an outburst. Right now, the fact that he wasn’t college bound didn’t matter. Will’s average SAT scores were of minimal importance. His 18 year old vision for the future was all he could see and feel. Ambition and lust to succeed was what was driving his well-prepared rebuttal to his Mom’s outburst. “Mom, its 1983 and computers are being sold to more and more schools and homes” Will began. I think my familiarity with them can make me a pioneer in this new and upcoming field. Who needs college? The computer skill set isn’t even taught in college… at least not yet.” Mrs. Turnwell’s mouth was agape. She was now beyond words. All she could say in a defeated tone was, “wait til your father catches wind of this.” However, she saw and sensed a certain confidence in her son’s tone that she’d never seen before. She internally admired her son’s ambition yet still held her motherly misgivings. For this is only natural, he was her oldest, and an obvious role model to Luke and Michelle.
This computer business was foreign to her, but her son seemed to have found his niche and certainly taken a liking to it. She paused before finally saying, “ Cynthia is a very sweet girl, I hope she’s got faith in you and your future together. Willfully but respectfully, he responded, “ I think my dedication to computers can be my driving force. There is lots of money to be made in this field Mom. I just hope Cynthia will trust my vision and me. Mom now sensed her son’s passion, and in doing this she asked in an endearing tone, “Baby, do you love her?” Without even the slightest hesitation, Will retorted, “Mom, I love her and together we are unstoppable…..”
Falling, falling.. a pit, a bottomless hole. Must… stop… myself from falling… Will awoke from his slumber. Crinkly creases from the vinyl couch were embedded in his arms and cheek. Drool dripped from his lower lip onto his shirt collar. The bad breath stench kicking in his mouth, he thought to himself, “I must’ve dosed off…I guess I haven’t been sleeping too well lately he concluded, remembering he was on the second floor of KPO and still without a purpose.
“Hello?” he called only to hear his voice echo among the empty rooms.
“Is anybody here?” No noise, not a sound. Silence never sounded so empty. Walking about the floor free of people, best known as “F”, Will entered the kitchenette. It was your regular office-styled kitchen, complete with cabinets, a fridge, and microwave with inexpensive plates and glassware. He looked at his watch and noticed it was roughly the time he’d be having lunch. That too was usually consumed at his desk at work. Opening the fridge, he noticed that it was nearly empty, except for a few condiments and a jar of pickles. Naturally, he tried the freezer as well. It was completely barren, except for a single frozen dinner, the TV-dinners that you microwave. “Isn’t that a bit too coincidental he thought”…
It wasn’t just any dinner, but his favorite kind: Chicken Piccata. Freezer burn had only gotten hold of the outsides of the package. “Funny he thought, how can an item be burned by a freezer? Chuckling at the thought of how this occurrence belongs downstairs, he strode across the room with hopes of salvaging a meal from this frozen concoction.
After inspecting the microwave’s cleanliness, he took matters into his own hands and loaded it with his imitation favorite, and programmed the buttons before pressing cook. Will paced around while his meal cooked. Glancing about the empty kitchenette, he assumed that this was where “F” and their employees had lunch, when they were working that is. Pinned to the bulleting board in the room were memos, reminders, and advertisements. Just beneath the bulletin board, he discovered an Italian takeout menu. Hunger now growled in his stomach as he began to smell the lean cuisine cooking and thought how he could go for a nice authentic Italian dish. Pictured on the menu was the very dish he was cooking and beginning to smell. Gone were his thoughts of coincidence. Here and now were ironic thoughts that reeked more like this was being done on purpose. Smelling the smell of sweet white wine and lemon mixed together as the microwave prepared his feast, he began to remember…
Cynthia could make a mean Chicken Piccatta… slightly breaded breasts of chicken pounded thin, now tenderized his taste buds. Nothing triggers one’s memory quite like the power of scent and a person’s sense of smell. Although this was clearly not a home-cooked meal, his memory surged through him with hurricane like intensity. He could taste it now… Closing his eyes, he remembered…..
“Turnwell Software Group, how can I help you?” a friendly voice asked over a telephone, only to quickly reply, “Mr. Turnwell is in a meeting at the moment, can I take a message, or direct you to his voicemail?
“One moment please.”
It was a one-voice conversation. At least to Mr. Turnwell’s ears for he was just a few offices away, and heard Sarah, his secretary’s courteous nature. There was no meeting. There were no other employees at TSG now save for Sarah and Will. She knew he was hard at work developing a new browser program to replace the obsolete and outdated programs. Glancing at his watch, Will suddenly realized he had worked well into the seven o’clock hour, and selfishly overlooked the fact that Sarah must be ready to retire for the evening. Mr. Turnwell rose from his desk and paced around the office a bit. He was onto something big, real groundbreaking work. Every hour or so, he’d stretch his legs like this only to return to his computer to put in another lengthy session. The ringing of the telephone began once again. Ignoring it, Mr. Turnwell was glad that Sarah was there to field this one too. After the third ring, the sound subsided and thirty seconds later Sarah emerged in the doorway looking a little anxious.
“What is it Sarah?” the workaholic asked
“Mr. Turnwell, it’s your wife on line two. I told her you were very busy, but she seemed really upset.”
“Thanks Sarah, good job today. Go ahead and head home. I’ll see you first thing tomorrow morning.
“Hi baby!” The workaholic asked speaking into the receiver.
“I’m really upset and disappointed.” Cynthia returned. You promised you’d be home earlier tonight so we could celebrate…” Her voice deadpanned into the phone, as her words, the few she had spoken had gone home.
A moment’s silence followed. Mr. Turnwell’s stomach sank faster than the titanic. Much faster. How could he have forgotten? Their anniversary! Four years earlier they’d married, a blissful ceremony on the beach. Sweaty palms now gripped the telephone. Mr. Turnwell went to speak but nothing seemed to come out. How could he be so forgetful! What could he really say? His wife was disappointed. Disappointment sometimes is worse than anger. This was one of those times. In a scratchy voice, Will tried to salvage this dreadful lapse of memory.
“Honey, I… I’m sorry. Please forgive me.” he mustered.
But inside, he knew that there was no real forgiveness for such an outstanding oversight. Cynthia had gone to serious trouble to make them a special evening together and he knew he was about to hear all about it. At home his wife was waiting, waiting patiently for her husband’s company. Not his computer company that seemed to dominate her husband’s priorities, but for his interpersonal company. Company that she found to be most special. But finally Cynthia responded, the disappointment evident in her tone, “Will, I made your favorite…Chicken Picatta and now it’s nearly cold on the table. I even let Ellie skip her nap today so we could enjoy the evening together, just the two of us.” She pleaded sounding as if on the brink of tears.
“Honey, I’ve been working on this new program, and the time just got away from me…I’m on such a roll here right now…I promise I’ll be home by nine o’clock. Your cooking won’t go to waste, I’ll eat it for lunch tomorrow.” Will selfishly suggested before ending the phone call.
Nine o’clock? What type of person eats dinner at nine o’clock? Cynthia thought to herself as she looked at the candles burning brightly within the romantic setting she’d created. The light of each candle seemed to radiate and cast loneliness upon the workaholic’s wife. She rubbed her belly as it was now beginning to kick. “I guess I’ll have dinner for two after all…” she bleakly thought cutting into her lukewarm chicken breast.
“Ding!” the microwave announced. Not the normal ding announcing the food has been cooked, but a reminder ding that the meal in a box, his favorite imitation meal was ready, and had been ready. Awakening from his reverie in “F’s” kitchen, the wafting smell of lemon and wine had kick started his hunger. His diet had undoubtedly been scant lately and sustenance was needed at a time like this. To eat. To eat, and perhaps cope with his shortcomings. Peeling the plastic wrap off of his TV dinner, he prepared to eat. To dine. Dine alone, without candles… Chewing contemptuously, he felt remorseful, sullen, and selfish all at the same time. What if he had remembered? What if he returned home on that forgetful evening? He had never realized how that evening must have hurt Cynthia, nor the preparations she must have made. He realized now.

Only feeling slightly less hungry, Will exited the vacant kitchen. “Those TV dinners never really do the trick” he thought to himself. Feeling fortunate to have eaten something, he continued to explore this vacant floor. It was clear that this had once been an office branch for some company. Although it must have been quite some time ago as all of its contents seemed extremely outdated, once trendy now obsolete. Will entered and exited offices only to find them all empty except for a few that contained basic furniture.
He discovered that “F” also had a boardroom. A long table stood in the room’s center, but was kept company by a dozen chairs, six to a side. Will sat at the head for a moment and pretended to give orders to this office branch that was in desperate need of a makeover.
“Alright people, I need all of these computers updated! I want this wood paneling replaced with drywall at once! And for God’s sake people let’s purchase some new furniture! This place is stuck in the 80’s!” He fictionally boomed to the empty room smiling at his own playful nature. Bored with that room, Will snooped his way into a vacant office. A busy looking mess was piled on a wooden desk. Atop the desk was a prehistoric looking computer monitor with keyboard in front. Will rolled the chair out and marveled at the relic from the dawn of technology. Touching the mouse, the computer seemed to wake up. Internalizing his thoughts for a moment, he thought…mouse? Small monitor? These devices took him back, way back it seemed.
Both of these output devices seemed to resonate in his short-term memory. Suddenly, déjà vu struck him, or what do you call it, clairvoyance? Memory came rushing over him like a wild stampede….
His dream now vivid in his mind, he suddenly longed to spend time with Luke and Michelle, to have dinner with them again. His lifelong attraction to his separated wife now burned powerfully in his being. His prevalence he had placed all his life upon money and his career was a burning coal to the firestorm that welled inside him for his family, now that he was apart from them. Staring at the computer screen, a generic screensaver came to life awakening from its dormant doze. He stared at the colorful screen and began to remember. It was a photo of a serene landscape, a beautiful tropical beach. Dazed by thoughts and feelings, he remembered…..
“Honey! Isn’t it wonderful here? Cynthia asked, the wind whispering through her hair.
Enveloped by palm trees, aqua blue waters, and surrounded by his loved ones, Will sat on the Caribbean beach. Half his attention was on his wife’s words while his other half curiously gazed over the Wall Street Journal.
“What was that dear?” Will asked opening and folding the Wall Street Journal as he sat in his beach chair.
“I was just really appreciating how nice of a beach this is and how lucky we all are to be here together. I just know our family photo is going to be perfect.” She beamed from her sun-kissed anxious face. Sammy just got a really nice wave!” Will’s request for his wife to repeat herself was apparently of minor importance as he had returned to the Money section of the newspaper. Frustrated at her husband’s aloofness, she turned away and resumed watching her children playing in the ocean. Sam, surfing the whitewater waves and Ellie and her boyfriend holding hands enjoying the little ripples, Cynthia played the role of lifeguard keeping a watchful eye on her children, so pleased to see them all enjoying themselves.
Tomorrow was to be an important day. The Turnwell family portrait was all set for sunset. Ellie (minus her boyfriend of 4 years) and Sammy the surfer, along with Cynthia’s parents would all smile for the photo shoot. Cynthia couldn’t wait to see her family and how well everyone looked in the linen and white outfits she’d agreed upon with the photographer. Although slightly cynical about the idea, even her husband agreed the framed photo would look good on their mantel.
Will ran a curious eye over the stock options and annuity growth in the paper. Frowning, he learned he, (the family) sustained a small setback with one of his investments. Oblivious to the tranquility surrounding him, he stewed over his monetary loss. Away from work and his office, Will felt like an alien, a fish out of water. He couldn’t get the necessary updates, couldn’t do the proper homework, couldn’t read the stock news feed. He needed his laptop computer, wireless Internet, and the ability to E-trade some of his stock shares.
The sun burned low in the sky. It’s shining rays were powerful and brilliant. Sunset, in about two hour’s time would provide perfect lighting for tomorrow’s shoot highlighting this wonderful vacation. Will’s in-laws sat reading placidly in the chairs next to him, content with their opportunity to see their grandchildren. Cynthia was working on a golden tan near the water’s edge smiling with satisfaction. The kids were alive with excitement and thrilled to be at a tropical beach during this vacation from school. Will however was on the other side of the fence. Surly about his time away from the computer, sore about his stock investment that went bad, chapped he couldn’t redeem himself with a trade or two for the rest of the week. His bag suddenly began to ring. Vibrate. Once again, a ring and a vibrating rhythm. His international plan on his cell phone had not failed to work after all. Glancing at the caller ID on the screen he was relieved to learn that it was his office. That’s right, Will was relieved to see the area code familiar to his home town to be calling on his vacation. “Hello?”
“Will Turnwell please?” the voice on the phone asked.
“Speaking…Will said with a hint of anxiousness in his tone.
“This is Stephen Bradley of MicroWorks. We had emailed you Monday at your office but had received an auto alert reply that you were out of the office the entire week. I hope you’ll forgive me, but I requested your cell number from Sarah, your secretary.” Mr. Bradley stated internationally over the telephone.
“No it’s not a problem at all Will stated immediately. What’s this in reference to?
Bradley continued, “Of course I wouldn’t phone you on vacation unless this was an urgent matter.” Bradley apologized once again only to continue, “Its just that my boss Mr. Gates has expressed interest in a merger.
“I’m sorry what was that ? You’ll have to provide some more details.” Will quickly added, a zealous ring to his request.
“Mr. Gates has proposed that you and your employees of TSG spearhead an executive branch here at Microworks. You’d keep your office, and your employees’ responsibilities would remain the same. As the CEO of the branch, your responsibilities would be increased of course. Later evenings, some Saturday office hours, but the salary increase would be exponential.
Will’s thoughts were drawn inward, processing the proposal, internalizing the inquiry, digesting the deal…but only for a second.
“I’ll take it!” Will excitedly stated without more than a second’s hesitation, oblivious to the added workload, absent minded to the family implications, aloof to all it would affect. But Will was tuned in, most astute and attentive about one thing: the man had mentioned a salary increase.
“Well, excellent! Mr. Bradley returned, surprised by the quickness of Will’s answer yet impressed by it. “Our deal will need to be signed off then Friday morning.” he continued.
“Not a problem” Will provided
“You understand that’s first thing tomorrow morning?” Bradley added
Incredulous to such great news, Will beamed, “I’m just so pleased and happy to land such a deal.” the smug satisfaction evident in his tone
“Perfect, we’ll have our jet sent for you at the Liberia Airport. You’ll need to leave on the 5:40pm flight so that we can sign the deal at Green Valley Country Club first thing in the morning. Bradley revealed in a most professional manner.
“Sounds good.” Will returned, but may I ask why a country club?
“Mr. Gates and all the big wigs sign all their big deals on the links.” Bradley answered with some slight arrogance in his reply.
Tomorrow Will would be on the green, the fairway green, the putting green, yes, this was where Will was to make his added green. What drove his green, he really wasn’t sure, but this opportunity held the promise of more Green. His clubs he got for Christmas would be making their debut tomorrow. Hanging up his call, in a dream he stashed his phone back into his beach bag. He couldn’t wait to share the news with everybody.
“Production for TSG would nearly double! His income would nearly double! This was the break and opportunity where big bucks were made.” he thought to himself as he briskly began to walk to the water’s edge to share the good news with Cynthia. He did feel as if he was forgetting something. Something seemed to have escaped his mind. Something he may have overlooked. Quite tantalizing this memory was as it was just out of his memory’s reach, yet danced on the tip of his tongue.
“Honey, I just hung up with work…I’ve got great news!”
“Will, you promised you’d turn that thing off.” Cynthia said but her smile was now matching her husband’s.
“We just landed a deal with Microworks. We’re partners!”
“Honey that’s great!” she exclaimed but anxious to hear what this may mean.
The deal’s being made first thing tomorrow, we sign the deal and…
Will’s words stopped. His excitement and explanation cut short by his wife’s expression. On her face was a look of disappointment. Disappointment to combat her husband’s excitement. Clueless to where this could be coming from, Will quickly questioned, “What is it honey?”
“Will, our family portrait is tomorrow night!” She revealed, her tone reeking of letdown, disappointment and grief all in one. That was it. He’d forgotten, how could he have? He wasn’t sure, but he did.
“Honey, I’m sorry…Will began. But I’ll have to miss it. You can still have the portrait taken though.
Speechless by her husband’s poor priority choices, she stared at him dumbfounded.
Will continued, “All the big wigs from Microworks are going to be there”
But your family is here.” his wife meekly muttered
“The deal is going down on the links, I get to use the new golf clubs you got me!” he boasted oblivious to the significance of Cynthia’s words.
“Honey! We had this date for months..” she included hopeful of awakening her husband from his daydream. Her last resort.
“They’re sending me home on a private jet baby, I promise to be there for next year’s portrait Cynthia.” Will included, almost as an afterthought. Packing up in a hurry, Will was now focused. Focused on his departure time, soon to be airborne back to the states. And with a kiss to his disappointed wife and confused family, Will left. His family still on vacation, yet forlorn and forgotten.
A tear rolled down Will’s cheek bringing him back to the present day, flashback left behind, leaving its harsh reality to remain. He couldn’t believe how selfish he’d been. What if he had stayed for the family portrait? What if he hadn’t been so obtuse? While he thought about providing for his family all those years, perhaps the best thing he provided was neglect. Saddened by his revelation, he rose from his seat and made toward the door. Will was frustrated about his shortcomings and poor judgment. Will was anxious to leave “F” and what it stood for. Destined for the lobby, he arrived there quickly as there was no one to bid farewell to. He longed to say goodbye to somebody, making his time spent on “F” to be more official, more authentic. Looking into the reflective mirror doors on the elevator, he frowned. Ignoring his reflection, and perhaps for good reason, Will took a shallow breath and entered the elevator.
The small room chimed closing its doors in front of Will. Surrounding the walls were photos once again. No new photos seemed to be present. In fact, he noticed a few were missing.. Still up on the walls were pictures of his parents and his office building. Gone were the photos of his blackberry, The Wall Street Journal, and his golf scorecards.
“How odd!” he thought as he once again admired his Mercedes Benz of yesteryear…. “God I loved that car..” he said aloud to nobody in particular. Unsure whether he was to go up or down, he was relieved to see but one option once again. The clear button this time simply labeled “S”. As he rode the elevator once again he thought about KPO and his “service work” he was to provide and when this might actually begin. This he was unsure of. He was certainly finding his time at KPO to be exhausting and he was extremely thirsty. He was sure of one thing though, “F” was a depressing floor and was glad to be leaving….but what was “S”?


S


Slowly, the mirrored elevator doors opened. Will emerged looking less haggard. Anyone who might know Will would think he wore an improved aura of confidence. This floor, simply labeled with an “S” was a stark contrast to the first two floors. It’s warm, cozy feeling welcomed Will and he felt at ease immediately. He couldn’t help but feel how much more vibrant and alive this floor was, yet there wasn’t a single person in sight. The room radiated positive energy.
“How about that for a twist of irony?” Will chuckled to himself.
He quickly discovered the reason for the floor’s brightness. The entire rear wall of “S” was a transparent and frameless glass wall. Meeting him as he began to enter the main doorway was a small sign that read, please remove footwear. Beneath that, a few other languages stating most likely the same thing. Removing his docksiders, Will’s bare feet felt the warm exotic bamboo wood beneath his toes. Taking it upon himself, he ventured about the massive room with intentions to explore its artwork and sample some of the inviting furniture. Ambient, earthy tunes or soundscapes echoed throughout the room enhancing the earthy feel Will was soaking in. Admiring a small familiar looking statue, he’d forgotten that he was in KPO altogether. Bringing him back to reality was the startling yet humble greeting, “Namaste” a man called emerging from a room that looked like a library.
“Well, hello.” Will returned, slightly surprised
“I was told you would be arriving today, and I can see you’ve met Buddha.” the robe wearing man stated
Taking a step away from the statue Will now had learned was Buddha, he sheepishly returned, “Oh, he just looked familiar, that’s all.”
“Namaste” the man repeated once again. He was a small man of Asian decent with a haircut close to his scalp. Donning a robe and moving gracefully barefooted, he seemed to float across the room to welcome Will to “S”. His voice was warm and affable, and William could tell that when this man spoke, the words mattered. Yes, this was a sage man, Will decided as he seemed to perk up a little bit.
Meekly, Will muttered, “I, uh… I’m not sure I know what to say”
Smiling the man revealed, “The divine light in me sees the divine light in you. If you wish, you could simply return the same words by stating, “Namaste”
Sheepishly, Will announced, “Nah-mstay” struggling with the pronunciation of such a foreign word. “What is that? Japanese?” Will asked not meaning to be the slightest bit offensive.
“Actually, it is Sanskrit. You may have seen it on the sign as you arrived” the sage man answered placing his hand comfortingly on Will’s back. “I’m Thich Athet Paulu” he stated introducing himself. “Let’s have a seat he directed offering Will to lead the way. Will and Thich walked across the floor of “S” towards a small teak coffee table with comfortable natural looking mats with a small white flower sewn on either side. As they knelt across from one another, Will welcomed the wafting smell of incense, and the tranquil tunes as well. Will’s impatience however shortly got the better of him when he asked, “So Thich, may I ask… what is “S” and what is my purpose here?”
“Oh forgive me. I haven’t a clue what “S” is, I am only here for one day, that being today.” Thich maintained.

Will was now very confused. From Irony to “F”, and now to “S” all blindly lead to each destination. His hastiness was beginning to get the better of him. Thoughts and questions scurried in his head like fruit in a blender. “What am I doing with this strange man? I need to be hunting down the current stock trends. Am I here to learn another language? Does “S” stand for Sanskrit?” he thought to himself looking over at Thich across the table with hasty eyes. Kneeling there, Thich wasn’t speaking. He didn’t seem to be thinking, only breathing. Finally he spoke slowly and clearly, “KPO” contacted me at my monastery in France revealing that they had a client that was in need of some guiding means.”
“Are you some sort of Zen master or something like that?” Will asked.
Smiling, Thich returned most modestly, “William, some people have called me such, but I like to think of myself as an author and a poet. I am originally from Vietnam and a Buddhist monk but don’t preach any one doctrine. I am hoping that after our time spent together today that you will heed some of the wisdom offered.”
“As Mr. Slim downstairs told me, Will began, “I’ve got much to learn.”
“We have all got much to learn” Thich placidly preached. He continued, I know very little about you William, and I don’t know this Mr. Slim that you speak of, but I can sense your energy and spirit. It’s almost tangible. From our brief interactions this morning, I can also sense that you are a man who likes to look ahead, a man who is always seeking answers. Would you say that is a fair assessment?” Will nodded wondering what was so wrong with this.
“There is nothing wrong with this William.” Thich continued as if reading Will’s mind, “It’s just that constantly futurizing can lead discontentment.”
“I’m not sure I understand.” Will muttered half embarrassed.
Thich paused, and then offered, “Foresight forever is harmful.
“Now you’ve really lost me.” Will cried, the impatience evident in his tone.
To this, Thich did not respond. No words were spoken for a long time. His eyes were closed and nostrils were flaring. Very subtly, he finally spoke, “I’d like you to repeat after me and simulate the actions I prescribe.” Will nodded approvingly. Thich began pantomiming as he spoke:
“Inhaling fresh air I calm my body” he stated holding both hands on his soft belly
“Exhaling, I smile” he stated showcasing a pearly white ear to ear smile
“Enjoying the present moment” he continued with open palms as if he were embracing the air in front of him
“I can feel this wonderful moment” he finished while making a circular gesture with his left hand.

Thich patiently watched and waited with compassionate eyes for William to begin. On his own accord, Will took a massive inhale, smiling a big belly breath as he exhaled. Seeming to internalize the current setting: The softness of his mat, the peacefulness of the music, and the musky scent of incense, Will smiled. Without instruction, he tried this series again, this time smiling about another facet with this moment he decided was indeed wonderful. Several more series of breathing occurred before Thich inquired, “How do you feel?”
Smiling, William returned, “Content”
“When do you feel this?” Thich requested patiently.
A series of seconds passed before Will responded.
“Right now… during this very moment.” Will whispered for no real reason as if he was having a revelation.
“For this, this here… Thich began, is the only moment that is real. To be here and now, living and enjoying the present moment is our most meaningful task. What you have done has lead to this. Calming, Smiling, Present Moment, Wonderful Moment.” he prescribed. His words were not fancy. The request was simple and didn’t cost a thing. Thich’s words seemed to resonate with Will as he continued breathing on his mat. “Our thoughts are like a light bulb, but to do this effectively concentration is needed. Think of it as a lampshade that helps narrow our focus.” Thich stated from behind Will whose eyes were now closed.
Will thought about how invaluable these words were, yet how overwhelmingly elementary it all was. Thich poured hot water from an ornamental ceramic pitcher into Will’s mug. No, mug isn’t the right word. A mug has a handle and this had none. Pulling a tea bag from a corked jar, Thich offered the same to Will. Admiring the sea turtle painted upon the pitcher, Will asked inquiringly, What kind of tea do you drink?” For anyone with such sage wisdom and such gentle words surely knows a thing or two about tea. William thought to himself while waiting for Thich to respond. “I usually drink Earl Grey tea before meditating in the mornings and Oolong tea with dinner each night.” Thich answered while pouring his own cup. Dunking the Earl Grey tea into the small cup without a handle, Will warmed up to it, embracing it with both hands. He decided that not only did he like his tea, you could tell that from the smile on his face, but was most decisive about something. This was a wonderful moment. He had decided such. Thich and William drank tea and they talked. They talked of critical contemporary issues, music, and world peace. They talked about life and the family, divine intervention, and earth. Minutes melted into hours as their conversation flowed freely. William, a sponge trying to absorb as much wisdom as he could from Thich shifted gears like he was on a racecourse. During a lull in their conversation, Will erupted with a series of questions perhaps all rooted in grief. Grief from his current state of affairs. “What will I do now? I have failed my family! I’m penniless after working so hard, how did this happen? How can I rebound from such a disaster?” Will panicked. For a moment, Thich seemed unsure how to respond.
His uncertainty soon transcended into resourceful wisdom as be began, “The wheel of appearances revolves quickly…”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Will pleaded
To have endured so many evils and suffered though so many vices you’ve wheeled yourself back to the assiduous years of your youth.” Thich deduced. More importantly, things aren’t always what they seem.” Thich’s voice deadpanning into silence. Will looked more confused than ever.
Hoping to cure the confusion, Thich explained, “You can start fresh and new with your new found wisdom. Ostensibly, you’ve become a child again. You’ve a golden opportunity to start fresh again looking at the world with a fresh pair of lenses.” Golden Opportunity? He had heard those words before… Saddened by this harsh reality that had suddenly fallen upon him, Will impatiently interjected, “But I’ve lost all my wealth!”
A pause followed, a moment’s silence, then another. It was almost as if Will had learned nothing. Irony, “F” and now “S” had fallen upon deaf ears. Close-mindedness, Greed, Neglect, and Lust once again resounded in Will’s spirit. The candle of sins continued to glow, a flame that would not go out. Both patience and tolerance seemed to have escaped Will. Thich remained steadfast in his pursuit to awaken Will’s spirit while squashing his evils. He replied in a most confident manner, “Have you lost your wealth, or has it lost you?”
Thich’s simple play on words once again demonstrated his sage wisdom. He refused to allow William to drink his potion of sorrow. William had once heard that the first step towards rebounding from a problem was to recognize it. Through ironic circumstances and lessons learned from the past, he now felt he was scratching the surface toward transcendence. Transcending to the future by living, learning, and enjoying the present. Thich nodded his head approvingly for he now knew William’s time had come.
Rising from his cross-legged position on his mat, Thich gestured for William to follow him. Together they walked to the rear wall of S. The floor had gotten considerably darker as many conversational hours had elapsed. “There is something I’d like you to see.” Thich offered leading the way. “This wall really is remarkable.” Will praised pointing toward the rear wall of S’s floor. “Totally frameless, which offers a fantastic view!” Indeed, the horizon was panoramic from this vantage point. Not a building or obstacle in sight. “Alright, what am I looking at?” Will willfully wondered.
“Just enjoy the moment, for it won’t be here long.” Thich maintained. Together they gazed out over the horizon watching the day turn into night. Stepping away momentarily, Thich began reading from a framed poem on a nearby wall speaking the words in soothing tones,


“Clouds lurked over the sunset smeared sky
Oppressive yet complimentary to the horizon
The great yellow ball in the sky
Closing its eyes on another wonderfully illuminated day
Its job goes without notice, returning on the regular.
No two are the same, so thank you for another wonderful day.”

“Wow!” Will exclaimed. You did say you were a poet. That was amazing!”
“Oh, indeed it is amazing, only that wasn’t written by me.” Thich revealed in a passive voice. It was written by the last person I met with here at KPO, on what do you call this floor…. “S” ?
Will now reverent, responded without taking his eyes off of the horizon, “Yeah the button on the elevator said “S”
At a loss for words, you could tell he now had begun to think differently. It had never really occurred to him that there is a sunset everyday. Often working till 8 or 9 o’clock in the evening, he presumed he had spent many a sunsets eating dinner at his desk. “The same sun sets all over the world” he thought.” “Of course while some countries are seeing a sunrise, others see a sunset.” he not so obviously concluded. But there was something unique and uplifting about the sunset he had concluded. The contentment on his face said it all. While gaping at the sky now smeared with a myriad of colors, orange, red, and even pink, Thich spoke, “Amazing isn’t it?”
Will didn’t reply. It was as if he were alone in the room. Well, just he and his sunset.
What if he’d seen sunsets all his life? What if he’d enjoyed present moments while with his family? Would he be in such a family predicament?
“You know William,” Thich continued, interrupting William’s “what ifs” , “like the very tea we drank this morning all abstract objects tend to have concrete symbols.” Thich maintained.
“Come again?” Will replied not sure of where Thich was going with this one.
“ The tea, you and I enjoyed this very morning, is a real life portrayal of satisfaction and contentment.”
“I think I see what you mean…Will stated beginning to comprehend Thich’s reasoning.
“I’m not sure of your awareness of your surroundings from this afternoon William, but the mats we were sitting on were graced with a flower.” Thich revealed.
“You know, I do think I remember seeing that Will pointed out, they were on each side.”
“William, that wasn’t just any flower, that was the lotus flower.” Thich preached.
“I think I’ve heard of that. But what is so special about that flower?” Will asked obtusely.
“The lotus flower grows in murky, muddy water and rises above the surface to bloom with stunning beauty. At night, the flower closes and sinks underwater, at dawn it rises and opens again. Untouched by the impurity of the soil’s sediments, the lotus depicts the purity of heart and mind. The lotus flower represents long life, health, honor and good luck.” Thich stated revealing its ancient origin.
“Another example William is the turtle pictured on our tea kettle.” Thich continued.
William was scratching his head as if trying to discover what the turtle represents.
“The turtle is a creation of nature that carries its round shell over the ground, like heaven, and has a flat bottom, like earth. At a glance, from a concrete perspective one might think a turtle is a slow and insignificant creature. Thich was beginning to sense that Will was coming around to his position.
˙Sure, they are slow animals, but slow and steady wins the race! William beamed almost boasting hoping to make Thich proud.
“Exactly!” my abstract thinking friend. William, I knew you would see the light Thich praised, pleased at his pupil’s progress. “I’m sorry to disappoint you William, but aparahna-day will soon turn to night.” Will nodded as if he understood the sad but obvious news revealed to him in a foreign language.
He was excited, yet disappointed. Eager, yet nostalgic, for this sunset would be gone soon, obliterated from the day’s existence. Will now knew, when speaking of sunsets what it is they symbolize. The present is here and now, the time to enjoy. There would be many more to come Will concluded, but he would appreciate them once they were here. In the meantime, he was going to cherish this very wonderful moment. Futurize on this one, and she’s gone. Foresight at all times is futile.
The sun was now a perfect half ball melting into the horizon. Its rays gleamed upon the clouds above, cascading them with color as they flowed freely on the disappearing day. Will continued to gaze wistfully as nightfall was rapidly approaching. He refused to look forward. Not on this one. He wouldn’t look back. His time was now.
As the sun bid its final farewell, Will exclaimed aloud, “Wow! That truly was wonderful… you know Thich, I really have to thank you for having me stop to look at this…” he stated, turning to the front of the room. But Will’s words of gratitude had fallen upon empty ears. He was speaking to an empty room. Thich was nowhere to be found. Will was eager to express his thanks towards his newest Buddhist monk friend. But inherently, he knew a monk of Thich’s humility, thankfulness and recognition is not needed. Will knew that turning this into a gratifying experience must not come from words, but from actions. Maybe Thich had returned to his library, maybe he was meditating right now, but it did not matter. The wisdom he had imparted on Will must be internalized and put to use.
All of the wisdom and lessons heeded from KPO must be integrated into the here and now. Will knew his priorities must shift. He had reached the pinnacle of awareness.
The darkest hour of night is the hour just before dawn. Will now knew that. For years, he had lived and slept in ignorance and he had The Karma Police to thank for his awakening. His future could only get brighter by living in this present moment he thought. Prioritizing the thoughts and advice heeded from KPO, he pressed the elevator button and began his descent downstairs. . .


After……

The doors parted once again, inviting him to the elevator, his elevator. The familiar chime was a welcoming sound. At first the chime was an unfamiliar thing, an apprehensive thing. But with confidence now dwelling in his demeanor, he entered the 6X6 square. Before a search was made for the control panel, he noticed far fewer photos adorning the elevator walls. Gone were the photographs of his office building, his Benz, and his timepiece of choice. Still showcased was his brother and sister with their wife and husband.
Missing now were the pictures of his golf clubs, cigar and scotch advertisement, and The Wall Street Journal. Left proudly presented were the pictures of his family, and fairly recent ones too, newer ones. A 4th grade photo of Sam from picture day smiling his toothless grin, a cheerleading picture of Ellie from the past summer’s competition were face to face with him on his elevator. And of course, his heart melted once again over the circa 1983 photo of Cynthia. Will smiled. Understandably, he was picking up the message that KPO was putting down. “What if he’d had this wisdom all along?” he thought to himself.
Pressing the down button, he rode the elevator down to the ground floor… with his family. In a dazed dream, wearing a grin of contentment, Will sauntered through the lobby, anxious to start anew and to say goodbye to the “core values” system police that provided him with such restitution. He paused for a moment thinking of the acquired wisdom he now possessed. An envelope bearing his name was on the table closest to the exit. Inspecting its contents, he discovered three crisp bills, but they were most unfamiliar.
Taking a closer look, he read the inscription on each bill: Diez Mil Colones-Banco de Central de Costa Rica. Flashing back, he remembered his enticing promise of $30,000 for his service. Laughing at the absurdity in him earning money for a service he would have paid thousands for, he was surprised to only discover three bills inside the envelope. “KPO” must be a global institution” he thought thinking of the foreign currency Wondering what kind of conversion to dollars this might yield, his questions were answered when he discovered a small card with valuable information. Inscribed on this very official looking card was the exchange rate and the appropriate values.


1,000 colones= $1.85 U.S. 1.65 CAN
5,000 colones= $9.64 U.S. 8.76 CAN The breakdown was already calculated in his mind, and before he read the last line all he could do was smile.
10,000 colones=$20.28 U.S. 17.84 CAN. Laughing aloud, he counted his three crisp bills and folded them wondering where he could “cash in” his $60 worth of good fortune. The foreign currency, now in his left hand was destined for Will’s wallet but something startled him just before the door. He had hoped that the currency cluelessness on his part would be his final dose of irony. As Will strode toward the automatic exit doors that were now ajar, he was greeted once again with the first thing that welcomed him to KPO. The small glass jar, its contents still empty, but the inscription the same “Tipping for Good Karma”.
Chuckling he said aloud to himself, “Now this would be an excellent location for such a jar.” Retrieving a golf pencil he always kept in his wallet, he took just a few final breaths in KPO. After doing so, he inscribed a single letter with his pencil, etching it on to each bill before dunking the money in the jar. Exiting the building was a new man.
Exuding confidence, contentment, and patience, Will couldn’t help but notice how crisp of an evening it was. The oppressive heat from the day had faded and now the night existed. But for Will, it existed in a new form. Breathing in the crisp twilight air he felt and embraced the coolness of it and how it felt upon his skin.
Ambling towards his car in the parking lot, he was in no hurry. He quickly located his Chevy Malibu, one of several in a surprisingly busy parking lot. He opened the unlocked car door and smirked thinking earlier who might want such a car? Contentment came over him once again for he knew his car would get him where he needed to go. Starting the car, he breathed in. Pulling out of the lot, he let out an exuberant exhale.
Although he wasn’t attempting to think ahead, his future felt promising to him. Anxious to begin anew, he thought of a sign he had seen somewhere before. “Today is the first day of the rest of your life.” Understanding and feeling the truth behind that statement, he thought of his family and smiled ☺

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 25.04.2010

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