Do I have an "icky-er" taste in my mouth that is slightly fishy, from the last tank to captivate me? Yes, I do, but more than anything I am really very sorry for them, that their hand was forced to play, entertain, and work with my mental fatigue in the days, nay months, leading up to my parole.
I have grown accustomed to referring to my metamorphosis in cliche and god bless the woman to my left that refrains from the involuntary eye that results in having to hear these one-liners every time we cross somebody who mistakenly mutters out of politeness the phrase "what are you up to these days"...just cause they ask, doesn't mean you have to tell...but I do and I will.
Being plugged into more than one of the social medias that allow you to know exactly when I am washing my shirt, or debating between BBQ or PHO for dinner have served a very enlightening purpose that I had not foreseen.
It arms the casual conversation with a starting block and in this "no-time-for-love-Dr.-Jones" world we live in, chance encounters on the street can have more substance as well as getting right to the point. Any person lucky enough to be a "friend" or "follower" can now approach and right off the bat proclaim, "I heard you got out of the business", to which I can reply "Yeah-it was time that I started getting tested for intelligence rather than threshold for pain", which is exactly how I feel, but rejoice in making it appear that I just thought that comment right on the spot.
Or one of my favorites that take the casual visitor a little more time to digest is the response to "well what are you doing now?".
I love coming right back with "almost the same thing as restaurants. I am a technical writer at a Bio-engineering firm".
I am usually met with the initial expression that would accompany a person who just thought they heard a guy next to them use the word "pussy" in church. Doesn't make much sense. Kind of a "huh" thing where the persons head is thrown off it's access like a Golden Retriever waiting for the ball.
Like any other person lucky enough to escape from prison, I'm not so dellusional to say "I'm never going back". I know the business, and I know the sticky tentacles that I goes looking for you with as soon as it realizes you have escaped. "I keep trying to get out and it keeps suckin me back in". But if ever those cold fingers of death that dangle the lure of a fast buck in front of me come back and start to dance again, I would be tempted to pull a Cagney and never let them take me alive.
However; until that plank has been pushed out over the side and I have been politely asked to walk it, I will revel at the fact that this very minute I am at a desk with a picture of me and my girl on one side and a nice bonsai I found on Amazon on the other, and pressed by the fact that if I don't wrap this up I may be late for our weekly staff meeting cause I have to stop by the break room and brew a fresh cup of coffee and get some of those peanut butter filled pretzels that I have grown so fond of. Best of all I will leave this new place of employ right at the time that a restaurant manager will be gearing up for their shift and I will be silently wondering if I should go out to dinner somewhere tonight. Let me call up 15 of my friends and NOT make a reservation......I'm just kidding...could you imagine?