by Rob Gunther
But that’s not what I’m pissed off about. I mean, yeah, I guess I got a little pissed off there, but what I’m really pissed off about is the fact that he did it. My friend, he’s actually, like, friends with Keanu now. I don’t know how it happened. Well, I know the details of the how, but I just can’t figure out why.
They were in the elevator or something and my friend couldn’t help himself. “Oh my God! I loved you in The Replacements!” or something like that. If I were a celebrity, I’d be so annoyed. But not Keanu. They hit it off.
They did like a karaoke night thing at his place the other night. And guess who wasn’t invited?
“Oh, you know how it is,” my friend tried to tell me. “I didn’t want to impose.”
Yeah, he didn’t want to impose at the party, but he had no problem imposing on Keanu’s elevator ride. Isn’t that like an invasion of personal space or something? And it didn’t work for me. I spent like an entire afternoon riding up and down in that same elevator, hoping I’d get my own celebrity run-in.
And I did, I got it. Keanu finally showed up. But it wasn’t just Keanu and me, there was also some old lady in the elevator with us. She had already been up and down like five times that day. I know because I was there every time. On her fourth trip, she must have assumed that I was like an elevator guy, because she just walked in and said, “Twelve, please.”
I was like, “Excuse me, I’m not an elevator guy, you can’t tell me what to do.”
She said, “Elevator guy? Could please just push the twelve button for me?”
So I did, but only after I pushed two through eleven first.
Anyway, she gave me this dirty look when she walked in, but completely forgot about me once she realized that she was sharing my elevator ride with Keanu. “Oh my God!” she started babbling, “I just loved that movie that you were in with Diane Keaton and Jack Nicholson! You know, the one where Diane Keaton flashes the camera? What a great movie!”
Keanu was like, “Hey, thanks a lot. See you around.”
And the next thing I knew it was Keanu’s floor, and he was getting ready to get off, and I hadn’t even gotten to say anything to him, like anything at all, and I really wanted to go to a karaoke party.
So as he stepped out of the elevator, I kind of shouted, “Wait! Keanu! I loved Bill and Ted! Wait, I mean The Matrix! I loved The Matrix!”
And as the elevator door closed, he said something to me like, “Man, those movies came out a long time ago, buddy.”
And that was it. I banged on the door really hard and screamed, “I love karaoke!” hoping that he heard me through the metal. I think he did, but still, he had no idea who I was or how we might get in contact with one another.
Which was such a shame, because if that stupid lady wasn’t there, I had such a good plan. I had this newspaper opened up to a crossword puzzle, and when Keanu stepped into the elevator, I was going to be staring at the paper, like totally not even paying attention to Keanu at all, like it could have been just anybody that walked in. And I would’ve said without looking up, “Hey man, do you know a seven-letter word for ‘empty orchestra’ Japanese origin?”
And he would have said, “karaoke,” and I would have made a little show of counting out the letters, looking a little puzzled but then finally relieved when I figured out that it fit.
And I’d look up and say, “Hey, thanks a lot.”
And he’d say, “Sure, no problem. It’s funny you mention karaoke. I’m having a karaoke party at my place tomorrow night. You live here, right?”
And I’d say, “Yeah, sure,” and then I’d stick out my hand and say, “Rob. And you are?”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” He’d put down his groceries or whatever, offering me his hand, “Keanu. Keanu Reeves.”
And I’d just act all casual, like I’d never heard of him before, and I’d say, “Great. Sounds great. Maybe I’ll stop by. Nice meeting you, Keanu.”
But that didn’t happen. And after I finished banging on the doors I turned around, and that lady was still standing there with me in the elevator, staring. And I just looked at her for a second and then screamed, “What?”
Calling in sick
Just try to think of something nice, something pleasant to distract you from whatever uncomfortable situation you might find yourself in. Maybe you’re not feeling so great. Maybe you have strep throat and you had to stay home from work. But when you called in sick, your boss gave you that, “Yeah, sure,” like he didn’t really believe you, and even if he did believe you, he didn’t really care. You should be at work, it doesn’t matter about any doctor’s note, it doesn’t matter that you’re taking antibiotics, that you’re contagious.
Everybody takes sick days. Everybody gets sick. Everybody except for Johnson, that guy never calls in. In fact, he’s come in a few days when he should have clearly just taken the day off. Like that one time when he was trying to fix the office printer, and the auto stapler mechanism started malfunctioning, and he got that ridiculous gash on his forearm, right through his shirt. He left, I mean, he had to, he was losing a lot of blood, spilling it everywhere. But he came back in like two hours, all stitched up, just tons and tons of gauze wrapped around his whole arm, like you could totally see the wound still oozing through the bandaging.
Everyone was like, “Are you OK? Shouldn’t go home? Didn’t they put you on antibiotics?”
He just casually laughed it off. “Yes, no, and yes. Really, I’m fine.” And he even stayed an hour late that day because he used his lunch break for the first hour at the emergency room.
Fucking Johnson.
You can’t get strep throat though. I mean you can, but even if you go to work, you’ll look basically the same, there won’t be any bloody gauze to wear like a trophy. So you lose some face with the boss. Whatever, did you really think you were in line for a promotion? For a bonus? I know it sucks, having this day, this unpaid day off, and you can’t even enjoy it, just laying on your couch, hungry, thirsty, just waiting for that Z-pack to kick in so you can swallow something without any hurt. Just think about something happy. Think about that time two summers ago when all of your friends took the day off and went to the beach, and you were like, screw it, and you called in sick also. And it was your first time calling in sick and you didn’t think it would be a big deal, because it was summer and productivity generally takes somewhat of a dip during the summer, and you just shot an email to the boss: “Hey, I’m not feeling so great. See you on Monday.”
And you had a blast, just one of those great summer three-day weekends. But then you showed up on Monday, and Johnson not only did all of your work, like he actually went through your desk and found a bunch of work to do, he then sent you an email that said, “Hey, just letting you know I stayed late today and finished up all of your work. Hope you’re feeling better.” And he “accidentally” sent it to everybody in the office. And then on Tuesday the boss called the team in for a little meeting, just to go over the sick day rules, how ever since they changed the health insurance policy last fall, how even though everybody’s paying a little more and getting a little less coverage, it’s because the company’s paying more, too, so that’s why they had to eliminate paid sick days. You can still take two sick days a year, but they’re unpaid. And while he was at it, the boss went into a whole speech about productivity, and Johnson was just standing there beaming. The boss looked like he was looking right at you the whole time.
Just stop thinking about all of that stuff. What are you going to do? You’re sick. Do you really think things would be better if you were at the office? What are you going to do, drink cups of tea, one after the other, all day long? You have the doctor’s note. There’s nothing more you can do. There, you can feel it starting to kick in, right? The antibiotics? They’re starting to make you feel a little better, right? Well, drink a cup of tea, with honey and lemon. That’s going to help. And eucalyptus. I don’t know, in the health foods aisle. And just think about something warm, something co
mforting, like a cup of hot chocolate with whipped cream and marshmallows when you were a little kid, when it was so much easier. Not that taking a sick day was easy, you’d still have to be pretty sick to convince your mom to let you stay home, but once you were out, and sick, it was all downhill from there, lying on the couch, blankets, daytime TV. Who cares about Johnson, always the last one out of the office, always wearing those ridiculous button down short-sleeve shirts, displaying that nasty scar, a constant reminder of his dedication to the company, to work, to life, to being a team player, a real go-getter, a real gunner, gunning for the top, straight up up up up up.
I haven’t seen my old friend Rich in forever
Rich? Is that you, Rich? How long’s it been? Really? Oh, sorry, well, you look just like my friend, my old friend Rich. You’re not like his brother or cousin, are you? No, that’s a totally different last name.
You ever do that? You ever walk up to somebody and think it’s somebody else? And now what are we supposed to do? Waiting in line like this, it’s kind of awkward, and I’m still talking.
Can I call you Rich? How about I buy your cup of coffee if you pretend to be Rich for the rest of the time we’re standing here in line? Come on, it’ll be fun. Rich, come on, Richie. I never called him Richie. Well, maybe once in a while, if I was just talking for the sake of talking, I might be like, “Yo, Richie!” but it was always just Rich.
Or Dick. What’s up Dick? That was funny mostly when we were much younger, but, I don’t know, if you ask me, certain jokes never lose that zing, that certain whatever it is that makes you laugh so much. Dick. What a ridiculous nickname. You ever go by Dick? No, we’re still pretending here, you, pretending to be Rich. So in this scenario, where I just said, “You ever go by Dick?” you’d say, “No, never,” because I just told you that we never called Rich Dick.
You ever go by Richie? No, come on, act like you’re still pretending to be Richie. Come on, I’ll buy you one of those muffins. Jesus, this is a long line. You know Rich-O, it’s only going to feel longer, just standing here not talking to me after we’ve already been through so much. Come on Rich, I’m starting to look like a crazy person here. Just give me something to go with, something, anything.
Hey, you know what’ll be really fun? If when the guy asks you what your name is, so he can write on the side of the coffee cup, say Rich, and we’ll watch him write it down. Then I’ll get somebody else to take photo of us, me and you, standing side by side, smiling, and you’ll be holding the coffee cup toward the camera, so you can see it says Rich. Or even better, tell him your name is Dick, and then we’ll take the same photo, and then I’ll send it to Richie, not you, the real Rich.
I haven’t seen that guy in years. I’m sure he looks just like what you look like right now. I mean, you’re everything I’ve ever imagined Rich would look like at this age. I wonder if I still know anybody that would have his cell phone number. What am I saying? I can get that online. I can get anything online. God, that’s going to be so funny, because he hated being called Dick, that’s why we never called him Dick, only like during really, really rare kind of in-the-moment type jokes. Like we’d be playing video games and we’d all get in an argument over who gets to play what and who’s next, and I’d say, “Stop being such a dick,” and that would be kind of funny. We’d go into the whole Richie, Dickie, man, that was fun.
If I find him, would you ever want to get together? Me and the two Dicks. I’m just kidding. I’m just messing around. But that would be so funny if I set up a little reunion with Rich, and I tell him to meet up at a certain bar or whatever. But me and you, we’ll get there a little earlier, and when Richie walks in he’ll see us both talking, and I’ll do a fake double take, say something like, “Wait a second, if you’re Rich, who’s this clown?” and then you do some real evil laugh and run out of the bar. I won’t explain anything. That’ll mess him up good. That would be so funny. Come on, man, we have to make this happen.
Yeah, two coffees please, just write Dick on both of them. And a muffin. No, please, I insist. Well, whatever, one coffee, one latte, and a muffin. Just take the muffin. So what? Take it home. Eat it later. Hey, you’re writing Dick, right? This is going to be so funny. You know a latte is mostly milk, right? I’m just saying. If you can handle that, that’s cool. I can’t. I don’t know if Richie can. We were all much younger, and nobody drank coffee yet. No, it’s cool, I’ll meet you over by the sugar. Yeah, for that picture. Come on, please, you have to. Because, man, it’s crazy. You look just like him! Just like my good friend Rich.
Stop bossing me around
Don’t tell me what to do. You’re not the boss of me. There’s only one person that I’ll listen to. And that person is nobody. If you ever tell me what to do, I’ll just do the exact opposite. Unless of course you’re thinking that can fool me into doing whatever you want by telling me to do the opposite. In this case I’ll recognize your true intent behind the clever semantic trick, and I’ll do what you’re telling me to do, but only because I’ll know that you’re really wanting me to do the opposite. So, yeah, just do me a favor and don’t tell me to do or not to do anything, because I’ll never listen. Like, I’ll listen, I’ll hear you, but I’ll willfully do whatever it is that you don’t want me to do, regardless of how you phrase it. Which is to say, what I’m getting at here is, you’re not in charge of me.
I’m not being defiant. Well, I am being defiant. Or maybe you’re the one being defiant. And don’t even try to be nice to me, because it’s still bossing me around, and I’m not somebody that you can just come up to and say, “Hey Rob, it’s so nice to see you. Have a seat and let me get you a snack.” Because, one, don’t tell me to sit down. If I want to sit down, I’ll sit down without you having to tell me to have a seat. And two, let you get me a snack? How about let me let you watch me get myself a snack. Because who says you’re in charge? What are you, the mayor?
I went to vote on Election Day, and when I got the ballot, it told me to “fill in the box completely.” Stupid piece of paper. If I’m not going to listen to a person, if I’m going to ignore that joker who tried to get me to stand in line, to sign my name at the bottom of that form, to stop asking other people who they were going to vote for, to please stand behind the curtain, to give the other people their privacy while casting their votes, what makes you think I’m going to listen to a dumb piece of paper? You know who wrote that piece of paper? Some clown trying to tell everybody what to do. You know where that piece of paper came from? A tree. You think I’m standing in line all day so I can get told what to do by a tree? By a dead tree?
Come on, I bought a can of Coke and I was just about to take a big sip when I noticed, on top of the can, on top of the logo it said, “Enjoy” Coca-Cola.
Get the fuck out of here.
Why don’t enjoy Coca-Cola? I’m the one who paid a dollar for that can. And now I’m getting forced into reading some sort of a simplified instruction manual? Enjoy? I made a grimace, a really strong face, and I choked that Coke down, purposefully making myself laugh halfway through that big gulp, laughing so hard that the Coke, all of those bubbles, they got caught up in my nose and started spraying everywhere. It hurt, it was all up my sinuses, there was Coke all over my hands, and it dried and got really sticky. No-siree, I most certainly did not enjoy that can of Coke.
Do you know how much of a fit I used to throw in kindergarten when my teacher put on the hokey pokey? Put this in, put that in, do this, do that. I can’t bring anything on an airplane, because I’m not about to let some flight attendant tell me to put it away during takeoff. When I’m driving I’ll stop at every green light and go at every red one. What else … do you know how many trains I’ve missed, walking up to the car when that conductor goes, “All aboard!” Chill out dude, and don’t tell me what to do. I’ll turn around. You get all aboard. Bossy control freak jerk.
I just donated a pint of blood and smoked a whole pack of cigarettes right after. Because try and guess what that nurse
told me to avoid for about an hour or so after the donation. Just guess. Yep. Smoking. Just, seriously, don’t boss me around.
That’s enough. I’m done.
That’s it, no more, I’m not going to work today. I’m going to wake up nice and early, take a shower, go downstairs, I’ll make my coffee like I always do, and while the coffee is brewing I’m going to take my dog for a walk. I’ll come back, drink my coffee, I’ll eat my breakfast, and then I’ll just sit there and wait.
And eventually my phone’s going to ring, and I’ll pick it up. “Hello?”
“It’s your boss. Where are you? You’re fifteen minutes late. Get here now.”
And I’m just going to say, “Sorry, boss, but I’m done.”
Click.
And maybe he’ll try calling me back, I don’t know, maybe he won’t. I’ll still answer it. I’m not rude like that. Everybody’s always texting anyway, and so I’m always interested in hearing another person’s voice, even if it’s only my boss, calling just to make sure that he heard me correctly the first time. “That’s right boss,” I’ll confirm that he did hear me correctly, “Done.”
My wife’s going to get so pissed. “You just quit your job? What’s wrong with you? How are we going to pay any of the bills?” and I’ll just take it all in stride, enjoying some more coffee, thinking about all of the free time I’m about to have.
I’ll say this to my wife, I’ll say, “Honey, think about all of the time we’ll be able to spend with each other. You should do it too, just stop showing up at work.”
So she’ll calm down. She’s definitely going to see it my way. Maybe her job won’t call her up for a few days. They’ll think, “Huh, this isn’t like her at all. I’m sure she has a perfectly good explanation.”