Monday, June 7, 2010
I'm always looking for a shortcut. Today my hunt took me through a one stoplight town at rush hour. My wife waited at work for 25 minutes while I waited in traffic. I called the house where she nannys to let her know. It went something like this:
Pretty lady's voice: "Hello?"
Me: "Hey Babe!"
Confused lady's voice: "What? Hello?"
Me backpedaling: "You're not my wife are you? Is this Terri?"
Boss lady's voice: "I think you have the wrong number."
Me hanging tough: "This is the Wilmont's right? I thought you were Danielle."
Amused lady's voice: "Hah, ok, yeah. Here she is."
Me attempting a recovery: "Sorry for calling you Babe."
Awkward. In the future I'm going to avoid calling my wife's boss intimate pet names. And to think it all could have been avoided had I taken the highway. Or even the three necessary seconds to identify who I was speaking with. Shortcuts.
After hanging up and taking a moment to collect my pride I resumed doing nothing in gridlock. The traffic jam provided me ample time to ponder shortcuts. And life. And shortcuts through life. What I needed was a quick way to solve every problem and achieve every dream in my life. A shortcut to the top. Naturally I'd need to be rich, lazy, influential, and popular.
After careful deliberation I decided that the most realistic shortcut through life is professional poker. It's a foolproof plan. You get paid to sit in a dark room drinking hard liquor and playing cards. I'm pretty sure the only requirements are that you wear sunglasses indoors, sweat profusely, and be at least 40lbs. overweight. I can definitely do that!
I'll be wildly rich and my problems will vanish. People will conclude that I'm a genius and will want my input on everything from politics to architecture. My wife will hire that lady I called Babe to take care of one of our mansions when we're traveling in Europe.
"It's doable," I decided as I sat staring at the bumper of an Audi. Vegas Baby, Vegas. Bring on the buffet and buy me some Oakley's because I'm going pro. I'll be a world renowned poker star by year's end. A horn honked at me. Apparently traffic had cleared and it was time to drive. "Goodbye clouds," I thought as I looked out at the setting sun, "I'll be in a smoke filled man cave from here on out."
My gambling strategy is simple: re-raise. Every...single...time. So what if I can't pick up my wife from work on time, talk on the phone correctly, or navigate through a traffic jam, this new plan is bound to succeed. Babe, (And by Babe I mean my wife and not her boss) can you grab the stock portfolio and the car title? Let's hit the road.