New Easy Meetings - Ch 1

My friend said, 'Oh, wow, look at that guy.'

He had suddenly arrived, a tall, blue-eyed, sandy-haired stranger in a dark suit jacket, underneath which peeped a crisply pressed white woven button-down. He pulled anxiously and anonymously up to the bar for a covert craft beer. He was not entirely fair-haired but he was significantly light-eyed, bright-eyed.

His manly beauty required a double take.

This level of attractiveness, from head to toe is rare, anywhere.

We caught eyes. I smiled, thin lipped, polite, keeping my distance, not my way.

I am much friendlier than this but his stress was arming.

He appeared, quite obviously, angsty.

I said as much.

'Are you alright?'

He seemed taken aback, albeit graciously, unaware, clearly, of his own demeanor.

'Yes,' he said warmly in his thick, well-studied German accent, 'Yes, thank you I'm fine."

But I didn't really buy it.

My friend regarded me with raised eyebrows as if to say, 'what a stress case.'

We both pondered the 'is he on coke or speed' possibility. His stress level seemed that high but his outward appearance didn't align with that at all.

He went away momentarily only to return to our sides with a forced smile, at which point I asked, 'What's up with you? You seem so upset.'

And then the unload began.

The person in the suit coat and pressed shirt came alive then. He told us he had this job, this job where he had to analyze the economic psychology of a company and determine what was working and who had to go. And he hated this. This was his daily torment. He was wracked with guilt on a daily basis. About who he had to fire. About their family and their lives.

Of course, he decided that knowing me would somehow alleviate his pain.

I gave him my number.