Discounted. Me of all people. Discarded like the wrinkled weekend newspaper that bargain shoppers throw out after all the sales have ended. (sigh) You know I was relevant once. I held a high profile position at a Fortune 500 Company, owned stocks, and had a very healthy 401K.
I was envied by others who felt that their skin color was supreme over mine. With all I had, even then, they still looked down their noses anytime I passed them in the hall or shared an elevator ride with them up to my plush corner office with the amazing view.
I even drove a car that I purchased for six-figures — one I had detailed every Saturday morning without fail. I had four walk in closets filled with designer clothes from only the best stores on the planet. My shoe collection would make even old money blush, because not only did I have the cash, I had the sharp eye of a fashion industry mogul, so anything I chose had a class that not even money could buy.
Yeah, I was really something back then. I miss the luxurious hotels I stayed at on the company’s dollar. Those exotic vacations seemed only befitting for one with so much talented, so much wealth, so much influence and education. What happened? Where did I go wrong? Why did I start making so many irrational decisions? Why did I bite the hand that fed me? Why didn’t I pull back instead of pushing forward. Why didn’t I heed the first warning signs of trouble? Why didn’t I accept help when it was offered?
Pride. Yeah, pride. I didn’t have a problem I was only indulging in and enjoying the finer things in life. Everyone was doing it, and I couldn’t be a square. If I had the money to buy it, then where did the problems come in? Oh, sure, I was late a few times; hell I might’ve even taken a day or two more of unscheduled sick time than I should’ve, but damn, Bob was doing it?
Bob. I miss him. They said it was a heart attack that took him out, but there were whispers that it was the life he lived and the the things he indulged in that killed him. Liars! All of them! Bob was healthier than a field ox. I miss my Bob.
I’ll get my life back though. I’ll make Bob proud of me. Yeah, after this weekend. One more round of partying with the old crew and I’ll be back to where I was in rank. Yeah, I’ll be right back there.
“Yeah, brother, give me an eight ball. Yeah, you heard what I said, an eight ball!”
G||D 8|17|2015 © 2015