Mostly Autobiographical

by Rob Gunther

  Let’s see, I should probably assume I’m getting this job, right? Or is that going to come off as too aggressive? No, they want aggressive. Do they want aggressive? Or do they want humble? Humble but strong. Strong but sensitive. Sensitive but with enough of a thick skin to not overly reveal too much sensitivity. Smart. Funny. Not too funny. Funny enough where people look forward to interacting with me but not too funny to be seen as a distraction from work. Just kind of amiable. Aggressively entertaining, in a subtle but hardworking way.

  “Nobody has five years planned out exactly. But in what direction do you see yourself headed?”

  Shit, that was a follow-up question. I am taking too long. I’ve got to stall for some more time.

  “Well, in five years I think I’m going to be doing a lot of subtle, hard work. No, what I mean is … it’s just …”

  That didn’t come out right. You’ve got to be more assertive. Just open your mouth and tell her what she wants to hear. You can do this. You’ll be eating empanadas every day. Screw the savings of bringing in a boxed lunch. You’ll be the living embodiment of success. They’ll be giving you empanadas for free. And you’re a funny guy. Say something funny.

  “In five years … I think I’ll have eaten a lot of empanadas by then. Haha. Have you ever been to that empanada place around here? I’ve heard wonderful things. What I mean to say is, I’m definitely going to be a great addition to the team here. I insist that you hire me. Too aggressive? Sorry. Not too aggressive?”

  Ask to go to the bathroom. No, don’t ask. Just go. Just get out. Just buy a bunch of empanadas to eat on the way back home. Buy a lot. You probably won’t be back around this part of town anytime soon.

  Feeling down? I can help!

  Let go of all of that pain and suffering. Inconsequential. Take a deep breath. Deeper. Empty out your lungs first, pushing everything out, keep going. OK, now take a deeper breath in, as deep as you can, hold your arms above your head to make room for even more air. Great. Now let it out, just let it go, everything.

  Did it work?

  I should have explained. That exhaling was supposed to be symbolic, the breath a representation of the pain, the suffering, all of that stuff I was telling you to let go of. Try it again, this time, you know, think about it, everything that I just said.

  Unburden yourself, let go of … or, not let go. I already said that. Release, yes, release yourself. That’s kind of awkward. Unburden yourself by releasing … yourself. No. Take the burden, the one that you’re carrying, and let it go? Yeah, let it go. I’ll start over again.

  Imagine your troubles. Picture every one of them in your mind. Everything negative. All of the things unpleasant in your life. Yes, even what I was talking about before, the burdens, the unburdening. Is it pictured? Great, now, imagine all of that bad imagery transforming into a light switch. A wall-mounted light switch. Just any regular switch. But this one’s giant. Or, giant for a light switch. Not actually giant. Let’s say like football-sized giant. And now picture yourself trying to switch it off, but it’s really hard, because it’s so heavy. It’s just this really big, giantish light switch. But just when you don’t think you’ll be able to do it, yes, that’s it, keep reaching … there! It’s off.

  Did that work? Because that was another representation, more helpful imagery. Let it all go. Exhale it all out and switch it all off. OK, and now I want you to take another deep breath, or, just do the deep breath trick again, and I’m just getting this now, it’s all just popping up in my head so kind of go with me here a little, but take it all in, ffsswwsshhhhHHH! – that was the inhaling sound – hold it in a little deeper, breath it in a little more, come on, just like before … OK. OK, now hold it. OK, now imagine a balloon. A big one. Bigger. I know I can’t see exactly how big you’re imagining it to be, but just, however big your imaginary balloon is, make it even bigger. OK, and you’re still holding that breath in, right? And it’s everything poison, negative, all of the hate. OK, now let it go, into the balloon, and fill that balloon up. The balloon was deflated before. I forgot to mention that. But now it’s inflated. You inflated it. You’re inflating it still.

  Keep going, don’t worry, it won’t pop, because you’re picturing the balloon to be unpoppable. Right? It won’t pop, trust me. And keep exhaling. More. Good. Now tie it up tight. Now imagine it to be everything terrible that you had inside, all of your fear, your despair, your self-loathing, all of that stuff. It’s turned the balloon black. It used to be red. Just … just trust me, it was a regular red balloon. But now it’s black.

  Oh yeah, and it’s heavy, like weighed down to the floor. OK, now imagine a machine, something that you can put the balloon into. OK … just, I don’t know, like a microwave, but bigger. Just go with me here. Put the balloon inside. Close the door. Activate the machine. There’s only one button. Go for it.

  Wait for it. Keep waiting. OK, and that’s it. Ding! It’s done. Take the balloon out. Now it’s glowing. And it’s not heavy anymore. In fact, it’s floating away. Which is OK. Just imagine a ladder real quickly, and picture yourself climbing up that ladder really fast. It’s fine, you can do it. It’s your imagination. Catch the balloon. Hold it in your hands. Untie it. Suck everything back in.

  You see what happened there? That machine, it made everything positive. All of that negativity? It’s been transformed into positivity. And then you just sucked it right back up. And so do that, picture that little thought exercise, it helps, it helps you to let go, it helps you with that release, that unburdening. Just let it all flow over you. No, inside you, that’s what I meant. No, outside, then change it around, then back inside again.

  It’s all in your head. You know, except if you have really bad back pain. I’ve heard chronic back pain is just the worst. You should really go see a medical doctor or a support group if you’re trying to deal with chronic pain. This is just for like emotional pain. But nothing too serious. If it’s too serious, you should go to a doctor for that too. That might be depression. I’m just talking about like moderate sadness. Not too moderate. Slightly moderate. Just … just go talk to a doctor. I’m not a doctor.

  Don’t lend Derek any more hats

  Don’t sweat the small stuff. Just, don’t let yourself get bent out of shape over trivial arguments or inconsequential misunderstandings. Even if you are clearly in the right. Even if you totally lent Derek your hat last week. He doesn’t remember it, but you remember it. You should try to not remember it also. Because, whatever, it’s gone. It’s not like he’s going to start wearing it. That would be too obvious.

  Forget about it. He was drunk. You were drunk. You gave it to him to wear home because it was cold out. Maybe he woke up the next morning and looked at the hat and was like, “Huh. This isn’t my hat,” and maybe he just tossed it away, kind of grossed out, like, whose is this? Is it dirty?

  But then you called him the next day and you were like, “Derek, what’s up? Anyway, yeah I was wondering if I could just stop by later and pick up that hat,” and that’s when it all came flooding back to him, the way events sometimes later reconnect themselves, especially the day after a night of heavy drinking.

  And Derek looked over to the trashcan and saw your hat, it wasn’t the last thing to be thrown out. He had a couple of bowls of cereal for breakfast. And the last bowl, he didn’t finish it, but he didn’t clean it up right away either. So the cereal sat there on the table, absorbed the rest of the milk, it became this slush.

  And also the coffee grinds. And some tissues. You’d be on the phone, “Where’s my hat?” He’d be looking at it. Even if he were to rummage through all of that trash to pick it up – which he would never do – it wouldn’t really ever be the same, he’d have to wash it, you’d have to wash it again, in a machine. Hats like that should never go through a machine.

  And, whatever, he probably just didn’t know what to say, still kind of spinning from the hangover, still piecing together point A to point D. And he’s like, “Hat? No. No hat here,” even th
ough you weren’t nearly as drunk as Derek was. Because, you know what it’s like to have that debilitating hangover and you know that, based on the amount he consumed, Derek went well past that point where the hangover had to be inevitable. You gave him that hat because you were worried about him. He was passed out on the couch. He drank like, all of your beer, asked for a glass of your bourbon. You thought he was out for the night. So when he jolted awake at three while you were playing video games, and he just made a beeline to the door, his jacket not even zipped up, and it was freezing out, that hat, it was a nice gesture, something that, if he woke up the next day thinking, “I can’t believe he let me go home last night. I could have been killed.” Maybe then he’d look at the hat and think, “Oh, but I was pretty out of it. No way I’d be able to stop me if I were in his shoes. And look. His hat. I better get him back this hat and say thanks.”

  But, let it go, you don’t know where that hat went. The garbage. But maybe not. Maybe Derek’s only going to wear it around the house. Too embarrassed to return it after having claimed to never remember wearing it, but feeling too bad to ever throw it out, it’ll be like his personal house hat. And that might be the worst possible hat-outcome of all, because what, now you can never go over Derek’s? And if he has a party, what, he’s not going to invite you? Because you might find the hat?

  Just try not to sweat it, man. Buy a new hat, an identical hat. Go meet up with Derek for drinks, wear the hat, and tell him, “Hey Derek! Sorry about all of that hat stuff. I actually found it. Look. I’m wearing it right now.”

  Derek will be like, “Oh, cool, man. That’s good news,” faking a smile, all the while thinking, wait a second, if that’s his hat, then whose is … and he’ll trail off in thought, disgusted that he’d been wearing a complete stranger’s hat around his house, always at home. He’d grown really attached to wearing it by himself. And he might rub his hands through his hair like, gross, is my hair clean? And if he does that, then, well, nothing’s confirmed yet, but he probably has the hat at home. And so next time you go over his place - because he’ll invite you now - he won’t feel bad anymore, just look for that hat. Find it. Don’t take it, remember, don’t sweat the small stuff. But make a note to yourself. Don’t give any more hats out. Especially this hat. And especially not to Derek.

  There’s the door

  Listen, if you don’t like what I’ve got to say, or the decisions I’ve made, then there’s the door. OK? That’s my door. I picked it out. It used to be plain wood, so I stained it. So there it is. Cool?

  Cool. But here’s the thing. We never use that door. It’s purely decorative. Whenever we need to come or go, we use the side door. Look at it. I should have said originally, “There’s the side door.” It’s not as nice. In fact, that was the original front door when we moved in. But I took one look at it and I was like, no way, absolutely no way is that going to be my front door.

  I told my wife. I said, “Listen, baby, we’re getting a new front door.”

  And she put up this big stink about how we just moved into this place, all, “We don’t have the money to be dropping cash on new doors. We’ve got perfectly good doors right where they are. You saw the doors when we were closing and you never said anything about new doors!”

  But I said to her, I said, “Listen, I’m making the decisions from here on out. If you don’t want to live with my decisions, there’s the door.” But I was standing outside. And I was pointing down the block, at the door store. It’s not a store exclusively for doors. It’s a Home Depot. And it’s not right down the block, but whatever, it was in the general direction that I was pointing.

  And I just took off.

  I don’t know if you’ve ever been to the Home Depot, or maybe you’ve been there, but you’ve only been down the tool aisle or the light bulb aisle, but the next time you’re there, if you’ve never checked out the door aisle, I really encourage you to see what they’ve got going on.

  Tons of doors.

  You look at the aisle and they’re all on these hinges, hundreds of them. And when they’re aligned, all you see are the ends, like just the wood finishes, and then you open them all up, it’s like an alt-rock poster display case at one of those emo stores in the mall. There aren’t any doorknobs installed, obviously, but you can just put your hand in front of that empty hole, imagine a doorknob, or you can get a piece of paper and cut out a door-shaped rectangle, and you can hold that up to the door, block out all the Home Depot background, just focus on the door. Or even better, you can go home, take a picture of the inside or the outside or your house, and you can cut out a rectangle for where your current door is, and then when you’re at the Home Depot, you take out that little door viewfinder thing and hold it up, you don’t even have to imagine. You get this automatic representation of what it would be like to see this door or that door as your door.

  I didn’t do any of that. I already have a strong imagination. Plus I kind of had an idea of what I was looking for. So by the time the Home Depot guy in the orange vest came up to me and said, “Can I help you with anything sir?” I cut him off.

  I didn’t even let him finish that sentence. I simply interrupted with, “There’s the door,” and I pointed at the door that’s now attached to the front of my house, the door that I was talking about when I started talking about “there’s the door.” That door.

  But yeah, the side door. It has a screen. It’s really squeaky. I’ve tried to fix the squeak. I went back to the Home Depot (just the tool aisle this time) and bought a can of WD-40. I lubed the hell out of those hinges, the whole apparatus, the tube that opens up and prevents it from slamming. But my wife got so pissed off, all of that WD-40, “all over my nice white dress,” the one she was wearing right after I finished with my repairs.

  And she was getting angrier and angrier, telling me that I’m not a real handy man, that I shouldn’t have started messing with doors and hinges, complaining about the two inch gap under the new front door, how it sucks out all of the heat and creates that unpleasant draft, how the old front door isn’t meant to be a side door, that the screen doesn’t slam shut all the way because the old front door is too big for that space, that I should have hired somebody to come help me out, that I had no business marching off to the Home Depot by myself and picking out a door and carrying it right home that very day without so much as a call, a text, any consultation whatsoever.

  But I just looked at her and said, “Listen, toots, I’m the man of this house. Capeesh? If you don’t like my decision making abilities, or if you have a problem with the decision making process, then here’s the door.”

  I said “here’s the door” instead of “there’s the door” only because, like I said, we were already standing right in the side doorway, it was here, not there. And I didn’t want her to, if she chose the door over me, to choose the front door, which, I’ve already explained, we never open. It looks too good. A terrific looking door. Even though, yeah, the hinges aren’t super sturdy. And sure, there is that big gap, but I just shove a blanket in there if it gets really cold.

  You know, I kind of like the gap. Like when the pizza delivery guy knocks, I just say, “Slide it under!” and then I slide him back out the money. It’s great because I never have to open it up. Chinese take-out’s a little bit more problematic though, obviously, with those rectangle boxes. I just shout out, “Take it around to the side door!”

  Assert yourself, get aggressive

  Sometimes you’ve got to assert yourself, you’ve got to get really aggressive. Like when you’re in line at the post office, and it’s one of those lines that’s just snaking all the way around the poles, those fabric strips that come out of the poles - is there a name for those things? Line formers? Am I making myself clear here? They use them at airports. Like, you’ll be waiting forever to give your passport to the ticket lady so she can take your baggage. But maneuvering around those line formers, with all of your suitcases, is there a protocol? What’s the protocol for when you’re in
one of those lines? It’s moving so slowly, and maybe you’re having some trouble getting your two rolling suitcases around the corner, and there’s a guy right behind you. He’s only got a carry-on, and so when you both round the corner, all of the sudden this guy’s standing not behind you, but next to you, he’s creeping up. Now there’s another turn coming. Does this guy think he’s going to weasel his way ahead? Just because he’s only got one small bag? And to be perfectly honest, his bag looks a little big, like he should probably be checking it in. And you know you’re going to get on the plane and of course this guy’s going to be sitting right in front of you. His oversized carry-on, it’s going to take up way too much space in the overhead compartment.

  Just assert yourself. Get aggressive. At least passive aggressive. As you go to round that second corner, maybe try to block him with one of your rolling bags. Maybe knock over one of the line formers, try to make it look like he knocked it over, and when the airline representative comes over, she’s not saying anything yet, she’s just kind of walking over as a result of the line former falling down, the fabric’s stretching, compromising the integrity of not just this pole but potentially the entire zigzagged line. And right as she’s about to say something like, “What’s going on here?” you point to that guy, Mr. I’m-Such-A-Great-Packer-I-Don’t-Have-To-Respect-My-Fellow-Line-Waiters, and you say, “He did it.”