Crossed Paper

Set appointment for later, much later.  4pm.  At Mission and 12 Starbucks.  Was hot and uncomfortable with sweater on now I’m cold.  Writing through it.  Music in ears, Tycho.  Not in any way fond of what they’re playing here.  Hoping to hear back prospects today, of course.

Looking for new business.  Know where I’m starting… but then I feel exhausted and discouraged before I start.  So what do I do. Do it anyway.  That simple.  Just –

Felt movement from phone in left pocket.  Lead from last week, a call, requesting connectivity here in Santa Rosa.  A contract.  Finally.  Won’t get me close to month’s number, but it’s something.  It kills the dry spell, the goose and its bloody egg.

Will start composing contract a 9 exactly.  Appointment at 11.  Couple errands to run later, dinner with kids tonight which is what I most look forward to.  The kids, those little humans… they solve everything.

Not feeling the cold in here as much as I did.  Nearing 9am, the day is speaking to me, the morning, and everything around me in this 12 & Mission coffee spot.  Not many around me, thankfully.  Not going to office, nor am I going back to house if I can help it.  Would love for another contract to land this week, don’t want to be too pushy though.  So, look for new business.  All I can do.  All I should do.

9am, to the contract.  In a second.  Why am I not more excited about the request for contract?  The month’s number, it won’t satisfy it.  That’s why.  I want too much, maybe.  Am I being unreasonable with self?  This is sales self-talk, which gives me an idea, then another.  Think I SHOULD go back to the house.  No, stay stationed here.  Actually, send out that goddamn contract.

And of course when I try to generate the manual contract, Salesforce goes into corpse mode.  GODDAMNIT… this stress is eating my insides and nerves and I’m sure flesh to some degree.

Finally it came back to life, started working. Contract sent… not even crossing fingers.  If it comes back, then it comes back.  I’m adopting and implementing the fuck-it ideology in everything.  I’m out to enjoy my day, and that’s it.

Stomach hurting a bit, wonder if it’s stress.  Probably is.  Goddamn sales.  Two men in front of me, older by probably 10 or more years.  I’ll be there one day, and I don’t want to be and regret ANYTHING.  I can only control so much in my efforts to sell.  And I want to stop talking about sales.  So do it then, I say to myself with a growl.  Cold again.  May go back to house, hopefully the WiFi works, somehow, magically.

I come across a quote that tells me to relax.  Indeed.  Why do I, or does anyone, worry?  Soon I will be like those men, with more gray hair, wishing I didn’t worry when I say in that booth at the 12 & Mission SBUX.

Last little bit of latte sipped, and I think I’m ready to break from this table.  Yes, I am.  Stomach feeling better, thanks to the dismissal of EVERYTHING while still accepting and considering it as a story.