Sunday, April 10, 2022

Stuck in the Middle with Me

"Clowns to the left of me!
Jokers to the right!
Here I am stuck in the middle with you..."

—Stealers Wheel, Stuck in the Middle with You

My mind is mired in work. I'm stuck in a problem; I'm stuck at a light. We are stuck at a light. I'm driving my family somewhere. To where again? I'm not sure. I don't remember. The light's still red. 

How do we solve for our growth problem at work? The market's never been more in our favor, but hitting a wall trying to figure it out. We've created the right services, but what else was our consultative approach missing? 

Frustrating. Where are we driving to again? Down to the water? Our dog Jenny's in the car, so we must be going somewhere to walk her. To the dog beach maybe? Where everyone takes their dogs? It's not that far away; it's time to take a work break anyway. The light's still red.

It's hot. We're having a warm spell in spring. The drought is still with us and isn't going anywhere. We're using too much water at home. Have to curb what we're using each day. 

Red light. Inflation. Recession fears. War in Ukraine. Work stress. Drought. Family stress. Tweens and teens growing up

The light's now green. There are many cars behind me and some in front of me. We're supposed to cross the road, right? Turn left? I'm not sure and I don't commit either way. My family is talking to each other; I don't know what they're saying. 

My wife asks me if I'm going straight. That's when this younger guy in a solar company work car (I can see the word "solar" clearly but that's all) goes around me on the right to cross the highway and I hear:

"Why don't you turn on your fucking signal!"

It feels like slow motion, but now I feel anger quickly. I raise my right hand and flip him off and mouth the words "fuck you." I don't say them out loud, but our kids in the back seat see what I do, feel my anger and frustration. I want to punch him in the face. My wife Amy feels my anger and frustration. It's not a great moment for me. 

"Are you going to go?" Amy asks me.

I cross the highway and the young guy in the solar car is right in front of me. He turns left and we turn right. 

As I refocus on the moment and driving my family safely in the car, I say, "I'm so sorry family. That was not how you're supposed to respond to people like that."

"It's okay, Dad. He was being mean to you," our oldest Beatrice says. 

"Yeah, how rude," our youngest Bryce says.

But I could feel Amy's eyes on me. We work so hard to manage our emotions and respond positively to even the most negative of situations, especially in front of the girls. We talk about it every week at our family meetings. Ugh, but I blew it by flipping the guy off. 

"Again, I'm sorry," I say.

"It's okay. It happens," she says. "But we should call that guys company and report him. He represents his company driving that car and cursing at us like that is subpar."

"Agreed," I say. 

Our girls concurred, "That's right!"

I smile. We've got each other's backs. As adults, we're always stuck at red lights mired in adult problems, and if we can take a break, we should take one. We can't control how others respond to us, but we are responsible of how we react and interact, no matter how we feel. Always stuck in the middle with me, that is. 

Mercy me, that beach break was nice. 

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