Friday morning my wife and I were in Portland, Oregon, on our way to the zoo. (More on that later.) We had ridden MAX, the light rail system, into downtown and had to transfer lines in Pioneer Square (AKA Portland’s Living Room).
While there, we saw the new Apple store. It was early in the morning and it wasn’t opened yet.
The architecture was Lego Meets Glass. It was a rectangular building with a long back wall covered with assorted goodies and three other walls consisting of giant panels of glass. The simple design spoke of transparency, projecting an airy, light, sense of come-see-what-we’ve-got. Sleek, clear, simple and white. And, although I didn’t know it at the time, there’s also a lawn on the roof.
I said to my wife, “I’ll bet there’s at least 57 iPads in there.” (Homage to Steve Martin.)
Inside one solitary worker sat at a desk feverishly clicking, thinking and doing about Apple stuff.
In front, slowly traversing the entire length of the store at a leisurely pace, were two security guards. They looked bored out of their minds. I forgot to look to see if they were armed, but we are talking about an Apple store, right? The place was obviously where riches were stored.
There’s not going to be an Oceans 7.1.1 heist here today. Not on my iWatch!
Suddenly a man approached the front of the building. The security guards sniffed him but apparently he checked out. He arrived at the front door and waved at the man inside. He was special. He measured up. He got to go inside.
I’d heard that Apple stores have something called a Genius Bar but I didn’t see a single bottle of booze. Hell if I was going there for a drink.
Unfortunately we couldn’t wait around all day. We had a train to catch. Before we turned away I saw a security guard hock up a loogie the size of an iPod Nano and launch it on the shiny white steps. The guards leisurely turned and began shuffling towards each other again. A vision of the North Korea border suddenly leapt unbidden to my mind.
I felt tingles. This portended good. Suddenly I knew the trip to the zoo was going to be something special. Things were happening. We walked a block and waited for our ride while looking at a Nike swoosh symbol the size of the Titanic.
Not too long ago, it’s been three or four weeks now, I gave up on an old friend. That’s right, I no longer add granulated sugar to anything. That includes iced tea, coffee, etc. I’m trying to be healthier.
It’s been rough.
I’d been drinking glasses of water all day. Not my favorite beverage. But I was doing ok. I decided to mix it up a bit.
Suddenly I have a new appreciation for fruit juice. Go figure. After a few weeks of water, I had an apple juice and it was delicious!
So I decided to try some grape juice. I went to the store and picked up two 64-ounce bottles of Welch’s grape juice for $4.59 each. I had a coupon for $1 off when you buy two, so the actual price was $4.09 per bottle.
To stretch things further, I did some experimentation and decided that a ratio of half juice and half water was right for me. I don’t want to be buying a bottle every other day so I want to make this stuff last.
I kept one bottle at home and I took one to work. It is pasteurized and has to be refrigerated after opening. That means I had to keep a bottle in the work refrigerator.
My job doesn’t provide potable water (unless you count the toilet and/or sink) so I bring my own Klean Kanteen with water every day. And I was actually looking forward to enjoying a little grape juice to enliven my otherwise shitty day.
We all know by now how this turns out, right? If I actually dare to want something then that becomes The One Thing that will be denied to me. This is the way of things.
I went to work yesterday and there was my bottle of Welch’s grape juice, completely empty and sitting in the trash!
Out of that 64-ounce bottle I was able to actually drink about 8 ounces. Yes, for those keeping track, that works out to be about $4.09 for a glass of grape juice. What a deal!
As I sat there considering this dastardly turn of events, the boss got up, lumbered over to the fridge, grabbed a bottle of juice, took off the lid, and brought the wide-mouth opening up to his gaping maw. Gulp, gulp, gulp. Ugh, what a sickening sound.
I turned to myself and said, “I dare say, Watson. We have cracked the case!”
This was worth pursuing. I couldn’t help myself. “Say, boss,” I said as casually as possible. “Did you also drink from the bottle of grape juice that was in there?”
He wouldn’t answer the question. How telling.
Then he said, “Oh, was that yours?”
“Yes. It was.” Emphasis on the was. Rest in peace, my dear bottle of grape juice.
WAIT FOR IT. HERE COMES THE KICKER THAT MAKES THIS A TALE WORTH TELLING…
“Oh, I didn’t know who’s that was.”
Excuse me??? What the fuck?????? You unimaginable bastard!
You didn’t know who the grape juice belonged to, therefore you drank it. I see.
Words fail me at a time like this. Seriously. What can you possibly say to that?
“Simple logic, Captain. When ownership of the grape juice is indeterminate, logic suggests you drink it anyway.”
So yeah, I wasn’t really planning to talk about my new job quite so soon, but forces have allied against me. There are usually pros and cons associated with most any decision, and switching jobs was no exception. But I still don’t know, even after a month on the new job, if I’m in the frying pan or in the fire. Either way, one thing is certain. I’m fucking cooked. But more on that later.
Boy I just can’t wait to go to work today.