Subtle Snub

It was one of those rather non-descript days in the life of Destah. I woke up, I went to work, I made it through the traffic and I came home. There was much more to it than that though. After a later than necessary night, I managed a very meager amount of sleep and yet resisted the urge to roll over another time to log a few more hours. I didn't even have to set an alarm and I still shunned the lethargy that had me firmly within its clutches as I supplanted myself from the satin sheets. (Okay, I don't really have the satin sheet set on my bed right now because I need to do laundry, but I couldn't pass up an opportunity at alliterating).

So, like I was saying, the devil was in the details today as it so often is. Sure, i went to work, and sure I drove in traffic on the way home. Lunch was the amusing part of the day, however. Since I sauntered in just before lunch and am not really rollin' in the dough these days, I decided against going to lunch with the guys. They probably think I don't like them anymore because it really does seem like I haven't "lunched" with them in about 2 months. In my defense, I have been out of town about 6 weeks during that span. As far as being broke, well, there's no excuse for that other than, perhaps, life. Anyways, after doing an expense report and catching up on the customer emails that I had missed while on PTO earlier this week, my stomach was tugging at me so I decided to walk across the street to see what kind of salad I could scare up. I've been on a salad kick for the last day and a half. I guess it's my own little detox after days of eating junk on the Las Vegas Strip.

Togo's seemed like a good place to start. I've previously enjoyed fairly tasty and sufficiently hearty salads from them. Today, however, this Togo's was different. In fact, it wasn't even Togo's anymore. The sign on the building said Togo's, but they had set a chalkboard sign near the door saying "Welcome to Sammy's". "Who's Sammy?" I thought. The same people were working inside and the menu looked the same, except that it too was now written in chalk without the usual photographs. Pedro, the usual sandwich artist that so often whips up something delicious for me quickly offered that "we are out of roast beef". I told him that was fine since I just wanted a salad. He couldn't do that either, since he didn't have any to-go containers. I told him that I would eat it in the store. He started to look for the ingredients and after looking confused for a moment, told me that he couldn't make a salad either. I stood there looking perplexed for a moment and then finally informed Pedro that I'd have to come back another day when they had things a little more together.

I strolled over to Little Jake's, still in search of some leafy green goodness. I ordered a salad with tuna and proceeded to stop and wait while watching the endless loop of ESPN highlights on their flat screens. This is when it happened. Wrapped up in the Day 30-something of the Brett Favre saga, I didn't pay attention to the guy that was walking over toward me after collecting his food from the counter. Arm extended to hand me a card as he introduced himself, he asked if I had ever been to his barber shop called Markstyle up the street. We talked for a moment until I finally grasped exactly where it was, but in so doing I realized what had just happened, and was hoping that it hadn't shown. It was like being introduced to a personal trainer and having them suggest that they could "help you out". Are you not following me? Okay, it was like a woman meeting an aesthetician and having them ask if "you want me to take care of that hair on your lip? Just come by my shop and it won't take 2 minutes...." I was very aware that I was badly in need of a fade or at least a line and a shape up, but I didn't expect to hear about it over here near the job. I had escaped comment at the gym this morning and was now in the safe haven of my Silicon Valley digs where, as I so often am, I'm the only brotha around. Homey was really smooth about it though, although I know he was shaking his head on the inside. Handing me that card essentially said, "Yo, Money...your do is jacked. Come by the shop so you can look respectable up in this piece." I wanted to crawl into a hole and tunnel my way back to the office. It's a good thing there was nobody else around to see. Well, not anybody that knew anyway. I had better take care of this situation soon.