Pensive Peyote #1

“Jack and coke. Make it a double!”

The bartender looked bored as she whipped up my order in less than 15 seconds flat. It seemed routine to her…like I was the 1200^th hard-drinking investment banker she’d served that day. I probably was. This career demands copious amounts of alcohol. If I hadn’t had such a bad day, I would have been more impressed with her bartending skills.

Why did I listen to that economic professor who said I should declare a Business major? What’s the next sarcastic response I’m going to use in response to the next dorky guy to check me out in the office? How many times am I going to have to listen to the same stupid Shakira song that the moron four cubicles away insists on blasting through his damn headphones?

‘Whenever, wherever
we’re meant to be together
I’ll be there for you and you’ll be near
and that’s the deal…’

Gah! No! I hate this song and I hate my coworker even more for inflicting such banality onto me!

“Good God! How many more days am I going to pull myself out of bed at 6:00 in the morning for the most unfulfilling life ever?”

The man in the next barstool jumped from what seemed to be surprise and looked at me with a confused look on his face.

Oh shit. I just said that aloud, didn’t I?

“Tiffany!” he exclaimed. “I haven’t seen you in years! How are you?!?”

Huh? What the hell is he talking about, and who is Tiffany?

In the bear hug that resulted as soon as he ‘recognized’ me I could easily smell the liquor on his breath. Figuring that he had probably mistaken me for the real Tiffany, I asked him if he could describe Tiffany for me.

Incredulous he looked at me and simply said “she’s right in front of me.” A few seconds later he giggled and asked “how much have you had to drink?”

The irony of that question not being lost on me, I told him that the drink in my hand was my first of the night. Intrigued by, and slightly frightened of the direction this conversation was going, I ordered my second round of what was sure to be a long night of rounds and sat down on the barstool. Attempting to humor this man I asked him how he had been doing and engaged in the traditional ‘wow it’s been so long since I’ve seen you and I really honestly do care that I haven’t seen you in years’ conversation. Honestly, does this conversation ever vary between people? Everyone pretends that they have spent every waking moment of their time apart thinking about what the other person is doing just in case a chance meeting in the undefined future were to ever occur and I would need to tell that person all about my thoughts…

God. I’ve become more cynical than the economics professor who doomed me to this life. At least this is slightly entertaining.

“Oh wow…I’m just s-sooo exc…cited that I’m s-s-seeing you right now!”

His slurred, stuttering speech became more pronounced the more excited he became. What was intriguing to me is who this Tiffany character was and what she did to make him so happy to see her in this boring executives bar. My night wasn’t getting any more exciting, so my best option was to figure out the answers.

“Why…why d-d-d-d-idd you l-l-l-eave me?”

He just stared at me expectantly like he was waiting for an answer, and it was then that I realized that I was supposed to be paying close attention to what he was saying.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Why? Why…leave…me?”

Recognizing both the gravity of the situation I had just thrown myself into as well as the fact that he really needed to concentrate in order to form coherent sentences, I realized that I had to get out of this. Fast.

“We…we…were d-d-oing soooo g-g-g-ood, weren’t we? I m-m-mean…I d-d-d-in’t want to s…sleep with her. I w-w-as drunk. D-d-d-in’t know wa-w-what I was d-d-d-oing…”

Oh for Christ’s sake. This can’t be happening right now. First I get to listen to Shakira all day while I royally screw up the most lucrative deal opportunity our firm has ever seen, and now this! If I ever find this Tiffany chick I will remind myself to smack some sense into her for ever getting involved with this class act…

“P-p-please…j-j-ust forget it…”

“Darling,” I started, “I don’t know if we ever got to this discussion, but I have a zero-tolerance policy.” Feeling the investment banker coming out in me I finished with “it’s non-negotiable.”

I downed my drink and bolted out the door towards the next exec bar. I figured the odds of running into another so-called long lost buddy of mine, or in this case, loser ex, were pretty remote given how boring exec bars tend to be.

As I stepped through the door I practically shouted “jack and coke and make it a double” before I had even made it to the bar. This time I quickly scanned the bar for anyone who might ‘recognize’ me and being satisfied that no one thought I was their long lost girlfriend that they had cheated on, I sat down to enjoy my drink.

Well…I may hate my job but at least it’s given me the skills to get rid of losers like that and do people like Miss Tiffany whoever-she-is a favor. Though I should definitely look into switching careers in the future. Maybe one of those investigators for that TV show ‘Cheaters’. I seem to be pretty good at soliciting confessions…