Thursday, September 15, 2005

(Insert Pithy Title Here)

We’re having a thing at work this week — tons of customers and all our sales guys are here.

I don’t know if I’ve mentioned before that this new company was the primary competitor of my old company. It’s only about one-fifth the size, but it’s a ferocious beast with very sharp teeth.

Not only did they (we) manage to lure away all the best customers, but we’ve also managed to get the best talent (and I’m not just saying that ‘cause my best friend and I are both here).

So today I saw a guy I used to work with many, many years ago. His third child turned 3 yesterday; I remember when he asked his wife out on their first date—she called me saying, "Oh, I dunno, he seems nice, but he’s kind of a player, don’t you think?" I told her to shut up and go for it. I’m glad she did.

The thing is, he was kind of a player. At least until he met her. He was the kind of guy who always dressed in a suit and looked sharp even if he was wearing jeans. Handsome, but not in an "Oh my God I Love You" sort of way. Good looking, for sure, but understated. And before he married her, kind of a frat-boy jerk.

So I saw him today. He gave me the warmest, most sincere hug and then spent about 10 minutes catching up, sharing pictures of the girls (in fact, when he found out I was pregnant with Emily, he gave me the crib we used. He was already married/thoughtful by then), gabbing about people we know in common... and it occurred to me that we are getting old.

I can’t put my finger on it exactly, but his eyes don’t sparkle quite as brightly. His hair is a little greyer and perhaps even a bit thinner. He’s still in great shape, but probably 10 lbs heavier. Not fat, just the padding a guy gets with age (careful, Vince, you and he are built a lot alike!).

Anyway, it made me a little sad for days gone by. I know I still have so much more ahead of me, but... Oh, I don’t know.