Tables Turn

For the last three months I have been completely avoiding him. I don't answer his calls, and I walk the other way when I see him coming. I've all but resorted to living an underground existence. I'm like the invisible man lurking in the shadows. I'm not afraid, but I'm just not up to facing him right now. Well, at least I haven't been up to it until now.

What a difference a day makes, is what they say. Twenty four little hours and oh my, how the tables have turned. Whereas yesterday I had no leg to stand on, today I am downright in a position of power. With a single bit of breaking news he has gone from a guy who is holding all of the cards to a man in one of the most unenviable positions around. The Discovery Channel might make a special white collar edition of their Dirtiest Jobs series with him in mind.

I'm not talking about the landlord or any bill collector, because they never seem to lose their edge and always manage to keep a foot planted firmly upon my neck. No, I'm talking about the guy that Golden State Warriors Season Ticket Sales-Guy. Yesterday, he was the keeper of a relatively attractive product. Not only had it showed modest gains like any prospective blue-chip holding might, but it's portfolio had been bolstered by a prolonged period of high performance. Emerging from the clouds that often keep a lid on the flash in the pans, preventing them from reaching the stratosphere, it had appeared poised to leave behind the label of potential, forging a path instead for one more rock solid like Prudential. But all of that changed today. With the news that Baron Davis has signed with the Los Angeles Clippers, the Golden State Warriors have plummeted to the Earth back to the ranks of the pretenders, no longer remotely contenders. The wheels have fallen off. The glue is gone. The bubble has burst.

The folks over there in the Warriors ticket office have got to feel alot like the folks downstairs in the sales office for my condominium complex, and many others of its kind in the area. A mere 18 months ago, this place was hot. It was new and exciting with breathtaking views. It was positioned as a get-it-now-while-its-still-affordable type proposition. You don't want to be late to the game, because you'll miss out. "Trying to get in on this opportunity down the line will be far more costly," they said. "You'll pay more and you'll be stuck with what's left. Don't miss out," they said. Then the economy went south and they can't give these units away. Well, they just about gave some of them away, but there are still some left.

If I close my eyes, I can envision a support group taking place in some multi-purpose room of some community center. The Warriors ticket guy is there and the condo sales guys are there, and they're all commiserating about their sense of hopelessness. They lament about how arrogant they were and how easy their jobs were at one point.

"Hi...my name is Chris, and I work in the season ticket office for the Golden State Warriors...,"

HI CHRIS!

"I'm having a hard time putting things into words. I'm feeling really overwhelmed. I don't know quite who to turn to. I'm overcome by the emptiness."

ITS OKAY, CHRIS. TAKE YOUR TIME BROTHER.

"I'm trying to come to grips with the reality that I have to make follow up calls to some loyal fans to whom I have been less than gracious to over the last few months...," he mumbles. "Cold calls are now so lonely as well. I feel so vulnerable."

Chris goes on blabbering for another few minutes until he is comforted by the gentle hand of Barry the condo sales guy, caressing his back and urging him to stay strong. Choking back the tears, Chris hands the floor over to Barry, one of the old hands in this group with some 9+ months of experience, to offer his sage testimonial.

"Hi, My name is Barry, and I sell condos...,"

HI BARRY

"Well, I don't really sell condos. I sometimes show them and helped to put them up for auction, but rarely do I ever sell one. It's like I've been cursed and have to serve this penance for the rest of my natural life. I didn't make the prices or the mortgage rates, but I also did nothing to stop them. I didn't protest. I condoned them. I enabled them. Some mornings, the guilt is altogether too much for me. But I put my feet on the floor one at a time and I walk over to the mirror and I tell myself that I am a good person and that I will help to right the situation somehow, and that, Chris, is how I get through my days."

YOU'RE SO BRAVE, BARRY.

Brave? Perhaps. A cautionary tale? Indeed. If my phone rings tomorrow I might be more inclined to pick it up and talk shop with Chris. I'm not so sure why since my financial situation has not improved. The laws of the universe have not chosen to make the fate of my position improve inversely proportional to the decline of his or Barry's. I'm just as broke today as I was yesterday and as I will be tomorrow. But I might pick up the call anyway, just like I might be inclined to stare at a trainwreck or at some fresh roadkill off the side of the road. Why? Because I can't help but do it. Maybe I'll be like the cat toying with the mouse instead of just putting him out of his misery quickly and decisively. I could prolong his agony, allowing him to make feeble attempts at sweeting his deal instead of immediately eradicating him with some very resolute rejection. But where is the humanity in that? I shouldn't kick a man while he's down. He's got nothing to offer me now, but at least he is continuing on anyway. There's got to be credit given for that. Quite honorable indeed to carry on in this way. It's downright courageous.

Don't worry, Chris. I'll be cordial and even respectful when you call. You'll get letdown easy, but you're dignity will remain fully intact. Although the shoe is on the other foot (and no longer on my neck), you must march on brave soldier, like the true warrior that you are.