300 – Page 3 – Picking Up Roots

Judgement

They surged at the fence line trying to get their piece of Ty. He felt a variety of hands tugging at his shirt, arms, anything they could grasp. The exploding flashes of cameras and the large lights set up by the networks were blinding.

Questions erupted from all corners along with the inevitable declarations of adoration. Everyone shouting about love. He tried to keep his expression blank, but couldn’t keep a smile from twitching at the corner of his mouth.

If they knew where his mind was, they’d be surprised. That’s what caused the hint of a smile. He wasn’t there with them. He didn’t see them. Instead, his mind was on the water. He was sitting on the weather-beaten wood of the deck, legs dangling off the side, watching as the summer sun burned its way down to the horizon.

It was so quiet there. The night sounds of the forest were beginning to creep in as the lapping of the waves began to take minds towards sleep, but there was no constant press of sound. It wasn’t the city. Instead of being lost in a mass of humanity, concrete and noise, one could get lost in the silence. It stretched on as far as the ear could hear. It’s why he went awayin his mind.

What surrounded him now was chaos. If his mind were present, he would have shook his head at the madness of it all. These people were vultures searching for footage to add to their unfounded hot takes or else trying to create their own 15 minutes of fame.

He didn’t want it to register. He couldn’t let it register. Ty was about to be judged by a jury of his “peers,” and if he thought too hard about them, he’d lose hope.

Code

They offered him more money than he’d ever thought he’d earn in a year to stay. He was flattered and told them so. It was too late.

He hadn’t given them everything, but over the last 20 years he’d given them more than the majority of his peers. He would have given more, but no one had listened. Nobody was asking for ideas, there was no place to submit them, so he sat on his. He figured they were his biggest contribution to the company, but they didn’t come to light until it was too late.

After he’d submitted his resignation to his boss, he wrote a letter to the President and CEO. He’d explained his thoughts on the company’s future and thanked them for the opportunity. He was himself: polite, professional, non-descript. Neither responded.

On his second to last day, the President called and asked him if he’d be willing to expand upon his ideas. They had a pleasant chat that lasted two hours. He didn’t think anything more of it. He’d enjoyed the chance to share his ideas, but that was that.

The next morning the Vice President of HR called with an offer that would quintuple his pay and grant him a powerful new title. He was grateful, but declined. He’d made a commitment and he didn’t turn his back on those.

The President and CEO both called him in the afternoon begging him to stay. He was polite, but steadfast in his refusal. He had a code.

He spent a pleasant weekend with his family. The children laughed in the yard. The fading sunlight caught his wife’s hair and he fell in love with her all over again. There was no talk of work.

On Monday, he went to work at his old company’s largest competitor.

A Summation

I hate the failure of this space. The lack of impact of this work. I know hate is a useless emotion. It feeds anger and can become all-consuming. It’s all driven by fear. I’m not afraid. What can happen?

Everything is temporary. Love. Pain. This life. In scope, everything is a moment. Some are more consistent than others. All leave their mark. All are valuable. All have meaning. It’s the emotion we give to them that gives them power over us.

This hasn’t launched. We did the work. We put in the time. It hasn’t stuck. It didn’t catch. How could it? It’s a subtle art in a world of blunt instruments, looking to bludgeon the attention spans of the masses. How could the expectation ever have been to be seen?

Hope. It’s necessary. Sometimes it’s evil. We cling to it. It keeps us moving forward. We need it. In some instances there is none, no matter how romantic the vision, there is no way forward.

Adapt or die.

Our expectation is this. It aligns with our vision, which came from our core. It’s how we want this to be. We can’t change it now. We won’t. Why align ourselves with what everyone else is doing. It hollows out the meaning of our actions. Since when has meaning paid the mortgage?

So we are failing.

Maybe we will rise from this failure stronger for having had the experience. It’s too soon to say. This took everything we had to start. I don’t know if we’ll have the energy to process where we went wrong, correct, and throw ourselves into it again.

It is our everything. It has to mean something. It has to work. It’s what brings us joy. Maybe we can start again.

We have to try.

Don’t we?