It's A Steve Harvey Kinda Day

“I love my wife. She won’t be mad. I love my wife. She will be reasonable. I love my wife. Please, God. Don’t let her divorce me. Huh. Isn’t that where I left you this morning?” 

“They call it a Living Room for a reason. I’m living. And it’s Bon Bon hour. Why are you home so early?”

“Why are you so flushed?”

“The sugar rush, and Steve Harvey. He makes me laugh. He makes me cry. Anyway, another jerk at work got you down?”

“Something like that.”

“Sit. I’ll go make you a drink. It’s 5 o’clock somewhere, and Steve’s about to crack another joke. I can feel it. They say laughter is good for the soul.”

“Who says that? Steve Harvey?”

“Who cares. Have a drink and a laugh with me.”

“What would I do without you?”

“Wallow in your own filth, for certain.”

“Come here, baby. I need a hug.”

“Haha. How about a drink first?’

“Fine. I’ll go change. Make it a strong one.”

“You know what? Come here. I’m sorry. I’m being insensitive. Steve always says love each other first, ask questions later.”

“That Steve sounds like a smart guy. Maybe I should watch more of him. Hmmm.”

“What?”

“You smell like sex and candy.”

“Are you serenading me?”

“No. You actually smell like sex and candy.”

“And you smell like teen spirit, but the difference between you and me is, I wasn’t going to say anything. What are you hiding?”

“What are you hiding?”

“About ten extra pounds under my yoga pants. They’re stretchy, see?”

“Fine! I lost my job.”

“You what?! How does one lose a job, exactly? It’s not a pair of keys!” 

“It’s going to be okay. I already spoke to a recruiter on the way home. Now, let me go change and maybe wash off my angst.”

“Why did they fire you?”

“Fire is a strong word. They let me go.”

“Well then, why did they let you go?”

“I didn’t meet my sales quota for the last three quarters.”

“But I’ve seen your commission checks. They’ve been on par with all of the other quarters. This doesn’t make sense. Did you ask them for proof?”

“No.”

“Check that eye roll!”

“Of course, I asked them to show me where I failed to meet their expectations. The head of Finance said they increased my quarterly quotas at the beginning of the year to cover the expenses of that new firm they purchased in Europe. There was a company-wide memo that went out. I didn’t see it, I guess.”

“How could you not see a memo addressing the very thing your job hinges upon? And don’t you dare say, I don’t know!”

“Honestly, I wanted to go back and look in my emails, but they’d already removed my access. I don’t think there was a memo. I meet with my manager every week to discuss my accounts. None of this makes sense. But as I said, we’ll be fine. We’ve got savings, and I’ve got plenty of contacts. This is just a hiccup.”

“Speaking of hiccups. I’ve got them.”

“Jesus. What time did you start drinking?”

“What time did you leave this morning?”

“Maybe you should think about going back to work.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have gotten sacked. Besides, you know how hard it is for me to stand for long periods. Or sit for long periods. It’s my sciatica. Ever since the accident.” 

“Which reminds me. Are you allowed to drink alcohol with the pills the doctor has you on?”

“I don’t think they work unless I do drink alcohol.”

“I think you need to get on some kind of health regimen. It might help your back feel better. What happened to your physiotherapy?”

“What really happened with your job?”

“Let’s have that drink.”

“It was that girl, wasn’t it? The one who complained about you. You said it was nothing. That you took care of it.”

“I did! I apologized for saying she looked lovely. I still don’t see the problem with that. Why can’t a man compliment a woman at work anymore?”

“You can. If you aren't being creepy about it. Were you being creepy about it?”

“Am I creepy when I compliment you?”

“Well, if you said it the way you just told me I smelled like sex and candy, then yeah. It’s not exactly a compliment, then, is it?”

“Well, I talk differently to you than I’d talk to a woman at work.”

“Why are you even talking to women at work for something other than work?”

“Because we are together all day, every day. And sometimes we travel together. It’s hard not to be friendly and get a little personal.”

“How personal?”

“Look. This is silly. I just want a hot shower and sit with my feelings for a little bit.”

“I thought you wanted me to make you a drink?”

“Why won’t you let me go change?”

“I think I like the smell of teen spirit. Reminds me of our youth.”

“We aren’t that old.”

“Old enough to feel old.”

“Christ. What if I’m too old to find another job?”

“You’re not too old to find another job. That’s not even a thing.”

“It’s totally a thing. It’s called ageism. It’s like sexism and racism, but for old people.”

“And what’s considered old in the workplace?”

“I don’t know. Anyone who has grey hair?”

“Well, that wouldn’t be ageism. That would be whatever ism applies to your appearance. Appearancism? Lookism? Whatever. Besides, grey hair is in fashion. Haven’t you seen those millennials with their dyed hair? The other day, a girl at the market asked me who did my hair. I wasn’t sure what she meant until she said she loved the color. I told her God. Then she asked me if he was local. I don’t have hope for the future of our species. Now let me fix you that drink. Two olives?”

“Yes. And make it dry. Very dry.”

“Feeling that bad, huh?”

“No. I just like my drinks dry and my women wet. Bring me that drink and get over here.”

“I like unemployed you. It’s sexy.”

“Cheers.”

“Ahem. Excuse me. But you’re all fixed up, ma’am.”

“Jesus Christ! Who the hell is this?”

“The plumber.”

“Geek Squad.”