Facebook: Bringing People Together. Sometimes Two People that Aren't Married Although One of Them Thinks They Are. Wait...What?

It all started with an innocent status update from a friend:

"Anyone that found my husband, John Smith, as a friend through me, please delete. I have the wrong John Smith."

That's right folks. She friended someone she thought was her husband but he wasn't! Not only that, he accepted her friendship. And, they were Facebook friends for quite some time before she figured it out.

Of course, then the jokes began:

"Did you find a better husband?"

"You should tell him that he is not your husband. Do it on Father's Day."

"But does he kiss the same?"

Apparently, everyone in her family had a good laugh due to this. However, it would appear that the last laugh was on the poor wrong John Smith. You see, my friend badgered him into putting up a photo because he didn't have one and even recruited her family to badger him as well. And he caved! To a bunch of strangers. Strangers that thought he was related to them.

Until he put up a picture, that is.

Well, for his wife. The other friends and family members just thought he looked strange. Some kept sending him messages. I wonder why this guy put up with this for so long. I mean, even though I changed his name, the last name was VERY common. Did he just think he was related to them?

It makes you wonder...is everyone that is your friend on Facebook REALLY your friend?

{insert spooky music here}

Dear B: You Need to Learn to Be a Better Wingman

When I was on the dating scene I had the best wingman. Actually I had a few. We knew what our jobs were as wingmen - RESCUE, RESCUE, RESCUE. This could be in the form of redirecting the attacker, redirecting the situation, taking one for the team, making introductions, etc. You name it, we did it.

WE WERE THERE FOR EACH OTHER.

Now, I am married and I have a built in wingman. Isn't that what a life partner is supposed to do? Support their spouse? Be their backup? I thought so as well. I am here to tell you, however, my wingman is missing a wing or two.

It all started when I somehow became part of the committee to plan my 20 year high school reunion.* I am not entirely sure how this happened other than I responded in a Facebook thread something like "let me know if you need anything" and now I am on a committee of four and responsible for one fourth of the down payment for the hall? Well, then.

Anyhow, the "committee" decided they needed to meet in person to get things rolling. It turns out that the head girl lives just two blocks from me. It also turned out that they wanted to have the meeting at a favorite restaurant of B's.

Perfect.

The Plan

B and I would go have dinner at the restaurant an hour before the meeting was to take place. He would then leave me at the meeting and the girl that lived a couple blocks away would drive me home. I told him to be near his phone in case I needed a rescue. You know, like a wingman.

Perfect.

The Problem

I didn't tell anyone but B about this plan. Therefore, the girl that lived nearby had no clue that I was relying upon her to get me home.

Second problem - two of the four were stay at home moms who hit the jackpot with this meeting in that they could stay out late and drink. Me? I had court in the morning. So as the "meeting" dragged on through multiple glasses of wine and on to coffees with Bailey's, I started to get worried that I would never make it home.

When the head girl decided she was going to read off all 223 names of the people we graduated with to see if we remembered them, the third girl smartly ran off because she had to work in the morning. She was too quick for me. Plus she lived in an entirely different direction.

The Solution

My wingman will save me, I thought. I covertly texted B:

"Can you please come get me?"

This was at 10 pm. The "meeting" started at 7 pm. The coffees were ordered at 10:30. My phone remained silent despite my checking it for messages every 2.3 seconds.

The Result

Over one hour after the original text, B calls. I answer it at the table speaking in code:

B: Why didn't you call me?

Me: Because.

B: I would have came right away.

Me: Can you assist at all?

B: Give me five minutes.

I spent the next 15 trying to figure out how to extract myself from the situation** without being obvious.

I then spent the next 10 minutes berating B's wingman skills. B did make some valuable suggestions such as:

"Why didn't you just tell them you were supposed to call me at X time to pick you up and then call you?"

It was obvious that I was trapped and in unnatural surroundings. The exhuastion of having to pretend I vividly remembered 222 other people, every teacher we ever had, and the last school play took all of my brain cells. B is lucky I remembered his number. Well, actually I am lucky. Also, side note, B does not know my phone number. At all. Wrap your brain around that for a minute.

Anyhow, it's official. B is no wingman. That is why next time I am sending him to the committee meeting as my proxy.

Bet he learns my number after that.

*Damn that makes me sound old!

**Everytime I hear "the situation" in any situation, I think of the Jersey Shore. Damn you MTV with your mindless brainwashing.

Don't Let Those Chickens Come Home to Roost

My very first boss as an attorney died suddenly recently. Well, it was sudden to me. For him, it was a rare form of cancer that dragged out over several months. I only found out about it because I had emailed him asking him to act as a reference for a position for which I was interviewing. Unfortunately, my last line in the email was "I hope this finds you well." He was not well. His wife responded that he would have been glad to help but that he was dying and only had a few weeks to live. At first I thought it was a joke, but even he wouldn't joke about that. He didn't even last a week after that email.

I attended his funeral which B could not understand. You see, my old boss and I weren't always on good terms. In fact, when I left that office, it was at a hurried pace and into the first job I could find because I felt that I was being pushed out. That was how it worked there, before me and after me. The people would turn on each other until there was no one left to turn on. Another kind of cancer entirely.

However, time heals all wounds. For me that is particularly true. I do not hold grudges well. Perhaps it is because I want to see the good in everyone or because I believe they can change. Mostly it is because I know that you cannot change someone, but can only accept them as they are. I chose, later, to accept my boss for what he was.

What is that you ask? Well, as stated at his funeral, if he loved you there was nothing he wouldn't do for you. I found that to be true. He got me raises, trusted my judgment, spoke well of my work product to others. I am not sure if that would be true at the end of our working relationship, but it did continue later. The last time I saw him was about two years ago. We had lunch and he told me that of all the people he had hired and who had left, I was the only one that ever came back to see him. That was one of the most poignant and saddest things I had ever heard.

So, for the guy who gave me my first job out of law school, who took the leap of faith that I would pass the bar, who never once asked to see me argue in court, and who would send me to seminars on every legal subject out there stating "you need to be well rounded and well versed in ALL life to better your legal career," I went to his funeral. It was beautiful and it was sad. The people that he had fired or that had left on bad terms? They were there as well.

Unlike most funerals, however, his family and friends weren't standing up there painting every thing rosy. They spoke the truth. They told about how he would be on your side if he loved you, but if he didn't or if things changed, watch out. They spoke the good and they spoke the bad. I felt good that no one had to pretend. We could all think about which man it was that we knew and not feel guilty for not thinking of the other one.

But all of that above? That is just background. For this post is to pass along the story that was told by my ex-boss' very best friend. The guy that knew him throughout his childhood and adulthood. The guy that knew him the very best. He told this story:

Toward the end of my boss' days, he would reflect a lot and tell stories. He accepted that he would be going and tried his best to put his house in order. One day he told his friend that many years ago, at the height of practicing law, he found himself in an elevator with a colleague, an opposing counsel. The attorney looked visibly upset and asked my boss for an adjournment of their case. "Why do you need an adjournment?" my boss asked. "I have cancer," said the other attorney, "and I need chemo." My ex boss looked at the attorney and coldly said "well, then an adjournment won't do you any good. No adjournment."

My boss, after telling his friend this story, turned and said "I guess those chickens came home to roost."

I don't think I have ever heard a more telling and thought provoking story. So I pass it along to you, in a moment of seriousness, and urge you not to let those chickens come to roost.

Compassion begets compassion.

RIP MDP.

Why Get Rid of a Good Thing?

Remember in this post when I told you that the desk that I was using then temporarily, and later permanently*, belonged to B when he was a child? Now I have photographic proof thanks to B's Dad:

Exhibit A - The desk at the new house in my office:

And the desk 25 years ago:

It's even the same chair!! Now how cute does B look modeling his reading skills? He informs me that his desk is super clean and organized in this picture because his Dad made him clean it right before he took this picture. Perhaps the picture is less about the book and more about the cleanliness? I will tell you, B still loves to read. Although these days he maintains a serious face while doing it.

And, no, we do not sleep in those bunk beds.

Not yet, at least.

*The latest news? I got a new desk so B gets his back. I believe he is secretly relieved. He loves that desk.

You're Uninvited

Don't you hate when you have plans with someone and an uninvited guest shows up and all is ruined? Don't get me wrong, there are plenty of times that uninvited guests are awesome and welcomed. For example, I recently had dinner with a group of friends who I see, or try to see, monthly.  One of my friends brought someone new with her and it was a great addition. Of course, she had talked about the friend to us a lot and us to the friend a lot so it was like we almost knew each other.

That was NOT the case when I met an old friend/work acquaintance for lunch the other day.  I had not seen this person but once briefly in a work capacity in about 8 or 9 years.  So we planned to get together for lunch.  I wanted to catch up on old times and perhaps get some mentoring advice from this person as he is in the same field as me.  Imagine, to my surprise, when I arrive and am told that there will be someone joining us.  It went something like this:

I walk into the restaurant and spot my friend there.  I walk over and say hi. He says hi. It is just the two of us waiting to be seated at this point.  He then says "Do you remember P?"  I affirm that I do when he announces that P will be joining us for lunch because he is "on this side of town" and my friend has to get something from him. Are you kidding me?  I do not know P very well at all. I know OF P, but I do not KNOW P. Could it get more awkward?

So we are seated in a booth for 4 people. Wonder who P is going to sit next to? Ha - he ends up sitting next to my friend. They look like awkward lovers.  That is of little consolation to me. We cannot catch up on old times because my friend is too busy catching P up on who the heck I am. And I cannot very well get any mentoring advice from my friend because I don't want P knowing my business or, worse yet, giving me his own advice. Grr.

That was a wasted two mini burgers event!!