Alphabet Soup Minuscule

J.C. Scheff

I am only your Net Worth. 

My first meeting ended at 9. It was over promotions and book signings. I am pretty sure I missed 58% of it just observing the people around the table. 

First, there was the man wearing the salmon colored tie. He kept fiddling with it when he spoke about numbers and possible sales. I noticed he talked faster when the numbers were larger. 

Next there was Jones from last night. He is the type of guy you feel comfortable saying anything around. You can be yourself around this one. Jones is not wearing a tie, and he is Midwest like me. Says it like it is, funny. Yet, today around all his counterparts, he sweats a little and keeps rubbing the corner of his mouth and the right side of his face. 

Then we have Marti. She is pretty but doesn’t wear makeup. She is the kind of woman who can pull that off. I can’t. I watch her as she talks about what places to reach out to, to reach more people. Suddenly, I feel like net worth. A little extra change in the wallet for the strangers. 

And then there is another gal. She has her too tight blouse buttoned wrong. I didn’t get her name, or maybe I did and just forgot it. She doesn’t say anything or add anything to the conversation. She just sits there taking notes. 

Now I think about you. How much I wish it was your face I am seeing. Your voice I am hearing. Except I havent. You have been quiet. A lot. And suddenly, like the nameless woman I am no longer apart of the conversation.


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