Five Minutes of Thought

They said the winner will be announced in only five minutes. Only five minutes? Only? An interminable five minutes! I don’t know how much more of this my heart can take. Waiting to hear the most important news of my life – so far, at least. Will I be the winner, or just another loser?

Not that people who don’t win are losers, in a bigger sense. They may be, of course, but just because you lose at something doesn’t make you a loser. Or I guess it does, but just for that one thing you lost at. Not all things forever. I guess a person could actually be a loser and still win. It’s unlikely, though.

Here’s my attitude about it. So what? So what if I win or if I lose? So what? It won’t make me any less of a person, will it? Well, will it? I don’t know. Will I be a better person if I win? Maybe.

There are going to be other opportunities to try again. There will always be other opportunities. Not as good as this one, though. This is the prize to end all prizes. Great adulation and a place in the history books. God, I hope I win!

Or do I?

Whoever wins, all the others are going to hate them. That’s for sure. Envy is a universal emotion. Even nice people will always have it in for the winner. Do I really want all those people looking at me with fake smiles saying fake congratulations when deep down, or not even so deep down, they hate me, because I won? Maybe. I mean, it might be worth it to endure a dirty look now and then.

I have to say, though, I don’t do well with being disliked. That’s why I got involved in all this in the first place. I wanted to be good at something so people would say, “Hey, there’s that guy who is very talented. Let’s all like him.”

Of course, that’s not the way it works. Some people like you once you get to be “somebody,” but most people just want their friends to think they know you and gain some status from that. I’ll see those people a few times each year and they’ll act like we’re buddies, but I don’t even know their names. They know nothing about me other than what I do. If I win today, they’ll tell their friends, “We know the guy who won! He’s a great guy. We see him all the time!” They don’t.

Three minutes to go. This is taking forever. I think it’s called “expanded time.” Things that take a minute seem to take an hour. I guess it’s one way to make it feel like life is longer than it is. Waiting and hoping, each tick of the second hand hanging on each step around the dial. As if anybody wore an old-style watch anymore. It’s like the opposite of watching reels on my phone. An hour goes by in five minutes, and I’m late again. I wish this would go like that.

I wonder what the other contestants are doing now. They’re probably being all cool and unconcerned. Maybe having a beer with friends. Not me. I’m sitting alone worrying myself to death. Worried that I’ll lose. Also worried I might win. I mean, if I win, I can’t live here in this apartment anymore. I can’t wear these raggedy clothes or drive my ’95 Sentra. Although, big time winners sometimes get away with being excentric. People will say, “Oh look. He’s so talented and rich and famous, yet he dresses in worn out clothes and drives an old Nissan. What an excentric!”

If I lose, those same people will say that it isn’t surprising a loser like me would drive a thirty-year-old car. People are so cruel. They really are. To be honest, I don’t know why I even bothered to enter. It’s so subjective, after all. If you’re lucky, you’re set for life. If you’re not lucky, it’s back to the grind, suffering an anonymous life with no acknowledgement or appreciation for who you are and what you do. The winners are loved, no matter what.

That lucky guy who won last year… he just wrote a book about how brave he is to become sober and Holy after he got busted with a hotel room full of girls and drugs. The talk shows love him. A winner who goes bad and then reforms is much more valued than a loser who follows the rules. It’s like the parable of the prodigal winner

A minute to go, if my clock is right. That’s the bad thing about phones. The time is always right. A person can’t use a slow-running watch as an excuse anymore. And yet people seem to be late more than ever. Go figure. I hope these people making the announcement won’t be late. I have been on pins and needles for a week. Even a few extra seconds will be the death of me.

Just a few more seconds… there they come. Onto the stage. The woman who chairs the committee has an envelope in her hands. The other people sit in the chairs behind her, and she goes up to the lectern.

Oh great! Now she is thanking everybody on the committee and in the community and the custodians and all the people who entered. Nobody wants to hear all that. I guess she has to say it, though. She’s a nice-looking woman. She reminds me a little of my cousin Roberta, except she is a little shorter. I wonder if Roberta is watching? She’s the only cousin I ever had a crush on back when I was seven.

Okay, here goes. She’s opening up the envelope. My God, someone get her a letter opener. Now she pulls out the card and opens it. She smiles and looks out at the crowd. I wonder: is it worse knowing, or not knowing?

“Now here’s a surprise,” she says coyly. “This year’s winner is…”