Taken from Chapter 1 of “Keep It Together Man”
Beep beep, beep beep, beep beep.
Oh please no. It can’t possibly be 3:30 yet. I just went to sleep. My foggy vision checks the alarm clock for the unsightful confirmation of 3:30AM. Muscles ache, bones quake, oh my back is going to break, as I wrestle the comforter off my battered body.
Curse that Turkey Bowl! That once a year event where we come out of athletic retirement, and pretend we’re 18 again. That glorious tradition of football followed by feast, passed down from generation to generation, designed to inflict pain and punishment on the weekend warrior, or rather the yearly warrior.
Every fiber in my body aches as the icy air penetrates my So Cal winter clothes. Perhaps another sweatshirt could have done me some good, I thought as I shifted into drive and headed on my way. No matter, I was determined to be the good husband and go the extra mile for my beautiful wife who had given me the holiday assignment.
My mission was an easy one. Department store opens for the big after Thanksgiving Day sale at 4:00AM. Simply purchase two portable DVD players on sale today to the first customers through the door. Make sure you use the first coupon for the additional 20% discount (limit five per person) and pay for it with the department store credit card, thus giving us an additional 10% off. Upon checkout, make sure I receive an additional $30 mail in rebate coupon for each DVD player. Make sure the total is more than $60 to get an additional $10 store credit to be used at a later time.
The first time my wife had given me those instructions, it was as if she were speaking some sort of ancient long forgotten language. I had fumbled the ball on my wife’s instructions before, so I knew what to do. Rehearse, practice, rehearse again, cheat sheet, everything written down, rehearse again. It was 3:36AM and no one was on the streets. I was in the zone and flying.
I’ll be there 15 minutes before it opens and probably the first in line, I thought to myself. I’ll execute the mission and back in my warm bed by 4:30AM easy. Oh yes, I would return victorious with DVD players in hand! I could see the look on my children’s faces as they opened up their Christmas presents. I could feel the warm hug from my wife knowing that every family trip from now on would be a family film festival on wheels. Oh the peace of absent sibling fights in cramped quarters! The happiness! And I would be the hero!
Two minutes ahead of schedule I pulled into the parking lot brimming with confidence. Ohhhhh! oh no, no noooooo! No way on earth is this happening! My brimming confidence was shattered as I viewed the over-ripe parking lot. Where on earth did all these people come from? It’s 3:43 in the morning for crying out loud! A black cloud enshrouds my hopes and dreams of a happy Christmas. Perhaps this is why they call it Black Friday?
Rick focus! All is not lost! Though that parking space is lost, and now that one, and yep I’m getting snaked again. My foot becomes heavy as I race towards the final stall in the row. I am Lightning McQueen unlawfully speeding to victory! But wait, from the other direction, here comes Chick vying for the same last spot. The foot becomes heavier as Lightning accelerates through the turn and takes the Piston Cup!
Like a cat from its cage I sprang from the car. But like a dog that’s run out of leash I am jerked to the reality of my aching legs. Curse that Turkey Bowl! My stride reduces to a limp and I hop-scurry to the entrance.
Oh the horror! Is that the line? You gotta be kidding me! These people are all psychos! With adrenaline rushing, I quicken my pace and lengthen my stride in search of the end of the line. I follow the line along the storefront to the end of the property. Then a right turn leads me along the outer parameter of the parking lot. I stare into the black of the foggy pre-dawn hour in search of the end. Perhaps this is why they call it Black Friday? You’ve got to get up in the black of the night to get a good deal.
Lit by the streetlights of the back of the parking lot, I discover the end of the line. “This is crazy,” I announce to my fellow runners who have made the same mistake I have. To which came the reply, “Must be your first time, eh?” The voice came from one of three suburban soccer moms passing me on the right. This is not happening! I down shift, hit the gas, ignore the unrelenting throb of strained muscles, and race past the shopping sprinters to the rapidly growing line.
I’m hit! Like an electric shock, pain stretches through my body as I grip my pulled hamstring. Reduced again to a limp, I hop along as I’m passed by the soccer moms and everyone else rushing to the end of the line. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak, and I stagger to the final resting stop and claim my spot at the end of the line.
Totally dejected I lean against a car to catch my breath and gather myself. The phrase ‘adding insult to injury’ becomes my reality as I gaze upon my own car. I can see it almost spitting distance away. I just ran a giant circle! I wanted to spit, I was so mad! But my mouth was dry as the desert and my lungs were burning. The spit would have turned to ice and cracked the front windshield knowing my luck.
Twelve minutes ‘til the doors open. If one-tenth of the crowd in front of me goes for the DVD players, I will return home in shame. The clock struck 4:00AM and off the jumbled pack of shoppers, including me, went. The anticipation leading to this moment was almost too much to bear.
As they herded the cattle into the arena I rehearsed my game plan again and again. Just get in, swallow your pride and ask for directions. The doors grew closer. The sounds of commotion coming from inside the great and spacious building echo in my ears. I can almost smell the DVD players now! Hey, am I the only man in this line?
I was so far out of my element! And I knew it! I entered the department store and chaos ensued. Where are the DVD players? I shouted over the crowd. I did have a height advantage, but that was all I had going for myself. For these were competitors I had never faced before, and THEY KNEW IT! Where are the DVD players? DVD players? Portable DVD players?
An employee standing on a chair attempting to keep some kind of order pointed me across the bustling market. I had my heading. Still nursing my hamstring I darted through traffic toward the prize. I quickly came to an impediment; a large pyramid of something was being mobbed by a crowd 5 people deep. What is it? I shouted! But no one answered. Yet boxes of something were leaving the stack at an alarming rate.
I turned sideways, raised my arms in the air, and squeezed my way toward the goodies. “Is this the DVD player?” I asked a lady next to me. “I don’t know,” came her reply. “Then why are you trying to get one?” I asked. Her answer surprised me, “Because everyone else wants one!”
It was as if blood was in the water and these sharks were out to get some. Some of what? I didn’t know if anyone on the outside knew, but the feeding frenzy was in full swing and I was now one of the predators. I grabbed a box. It wasn’t what I had hoped for, and again I set off in the same direction.
At this point I surveyed the area. There were several groups similar to the one I had just encountered. People seem to be mobbing sporadic items throughout the store. Ouch, what was that? Did I just get an elbow to the ribs? I thought, OH, IT IS ON! LADY! I then circled the next mob of shoppers attacking another pyramid of boxes. It probably wasn’t the DVD player, but I didn’t care. My attitude had turned to KICK BUTT NOW! Ask questions later!
If it’s something I don’t want, I’ll discard it before checkout. But for now, I’ve got to have whatever everyone else is getting. I waited a second longer and ambushed my prey. I now had two boxes and was on to my third. And then I saw it. At first I thought it was a mistake, but it wasn’t. There in the front row of the next mosh pit, was a man.
I was on the perimeter of the circle and yelled, “Dude!” He looked at me with a war torn look in his eyes. He could see the same in my eyes, and we instantly bonded. He wasn’t going anywhere. The mosh pit around him was 7 to 10 women deep and had pinned him in. He didn’t say a word, but grabbed a box from the coveted shelf and threw it to me. I pointed at him as if to say, “You’re the man.” His facial expression was clear. Take what you can and save yourself.
Three boxes were now in hand, none of which was what I wanted. I left my new brother drowning in the sea of grabbers and pressed on. Taking more elbows to the mid section, I navigated through the aggressive thicket. Onward! I was getting close. I could feel it. I shouted to anyone who would listen, “Portable DVD players?” “Portable DVD Players!”
Finally an answer came from a worker taking refuge behind a partition. “If there are any left, they should be over there.” I pivoted and ran to the scarcely populated shelves. My eyes ran through the shelves. They were nowhere to be found. All was lost. I would return home in shame. Then came a distinctly low voice from the other side of the isle. It was the first male voice I had heard yet that day. He said to me, “If you’re looking for the portable DVD players, they’re right here.”
I sprinted to the spot and discovered a large area of empty shelves picked over by the masses. THERE WERE FIVE DVD PLAYERS LEFT. All five were stacked on the top shelf one on top of the other, five high. He had stacked them, and was about to lift all five and head to the cashier. I remember seeing the ad, “Limit 5 per person.” He asked me how many I needed. I gave him the peace sign and he took off with three boxes, leaving me the last two.
Still holding my fingers in V-formation, I realized VICTORY WAS MINE! Following a successful check-out experience in which I executed my wife’s directions with exactness, I savored the victory all the way until my grinning face hit my down pillow. The plan was successful and sweet was my triumph.
It could not have come at a better time. My life, at this time, was void of plans and empty of victories. My kindergartener’s daily schooling experience consisted of meeting in a closet-like classroom, all by himself with a full-time aide, and, almost always, some kind of specialist. He was placed there after several incidences of bad behavior from hitting teachers to running away from school.
We had been offered NPS (Non Public School), which means the district will pay for his education elsewhere, because they just can’t handle him. I’ll get into our story later, but I was living in an environment much like that department store on Black Friday. Every day I was out of my element rushing through the crowd, trying to keep pace. I was trying to execute my plan, or lack thereof, while taking several metaphoric shots to the ribs. Heck, I was just trying to survive!
Like that department store, I could not understand the voraciousness of my new world. It was so unfamiliar and volatile to me. The smallest thing would induce overly emotional reactions. I was living on unstable ground, just waiting for something to break loose. Constantly looking for a helping hand, I needed directions before it was too late. Before the portable DVD players are all gone! WHERE ARE THE DVD PLAYERS!? Where is rationality, organization, happiness and peace?
There was peace at our last IEP meeting. Well, she was there for roll call anyway, but ducked out at the first hint of hostility. Peace had a better place to be, and left me empty to fend for myself. I put more preparation into that meeting than I did into Black Friday.
Rehearse, practice, rehearse again, cheat sheet, write everything down, rehearse again.
There were 14 people in attendance for that four-hour meeting, including the Principal, the Special Education Director, teachers, psychologists, and attorneys. Again, I was the only male in the room. On that shoppers’ Black Friday morning, I only remember seeing a small handful of men among hundreds of women. A couple of men were dropping off women and then hunkering down in their cars while the women went in for the fight.
One man was immersed against the pyramid of what I was hoping was the portable DVD players. A hundred women in that mosh pit, and yet he heard me give the universal male distress signal, “Dude!” He saw me in the back of the pack trying to get in, when he was trying to get out. Neither one of us was going anywhere. He took one look at my face and he knew I was out of my element. He knew I did not belong and that I didn’t want to be there!
He took the coveted box from the pyramid. And he chucked it off his back foot like a quarterback going down. Over the out stretched arms of the defenders to my grateful hands came the package. I was so appreciative, and he knew it.
In the war of the store, I finally reached my proper destination only to find it had been totally ravaged. It was like a swarm of fire ants had come through and picked the bone clean. Nothing but empty shelves was all I could see. I groaned in frustration as I was done. Then a deep voice came from the other side of the shelves. “If you’re looking for the portable DVD players, they’re over here.”
Quickly, I ran around the shelves to his isle. And there, on the shelf were five DVD players all stacked on top of each other with this guy guarding it. He had grabbed five when the rush was on and took them to the safe house where he could regroup. He had the power to send me home empty handed, dejected, with my tail between my legs. He was certainly on his way out the door with those five boxes. Like the guy stuck in the mosh pit, he knew my story. I was there solely at the behest of my wife, and he knew it. He could tell I had never done this before, that I had no idea where to go and what to do. Had you asked him, he probably would have told you I had a limp because of the Turkey Bowl just18 hours previous!
Wingman
Mighty Wingman
You’re taking one for the team,
so your buddy can live the dream:
Wingmaaaaaaaaaaaan
Coors Light Wingman Song
If you have a child with special needs of any kind, like those two guys in the department store that Black Friday morning, I see the look in your eyes. Perhaps I understand a little of what you’re going through or about to go through. I’ve been there before and I’m still there. Believe me, I get it. And I’ve got your back.
I have no academic training to counsel people. No psych degree here I’m afraid. In the first psychology class I took in college, the teacher began by saying most psych majors are in it to figure out what’s wrong with themselves. It was the best opening line ever from a teacher.
A lot of the shrinks and professional experts have good things to say. I’ve listened to them, read their books and studied their lessons. I’ve taken their classes, training, “Things” (more about that later), and step-by-step programs. This book is not that.
If I had to do it over again, I’d hit Black Friday totally differently. I’d send one guy there hours earlier, maybe even camp out, depending on the stakes. I’d bring the minivan/assault vehicle with a few guys I forced out of bed with some kind of bribe. I’d arm them with two-way radios and a well-rehearsed offensive game plan.
I would send one guy on a down and out to the X Boxes, another on a post corner to the flat screen TV’s, and my fastest receiver on a deep fade to the corner of the end zone where he could score the portable DVD players. And if I had to raise another special needs child, which I am doing, I will go about it very differently. I will cut out the fat and curve the programs, focusing only on what’s most important. There is way too much time, energy and money spent on projects not worth their billing.
I passed two more men as I was on my way out of the store Black-Friday morning. They were slack jawed, heads down, arms resting to their sides, and empty handed. Their eyes had long passed deer in the headlights and were now glazed over with failure. That was my plight just moments earlier. DON’T BE THAT GUY! Don’t get caught in the chaos, ‘clueless.’ Let me give you a heads up.
I am now that guy who chucked that package. I’m that guy who passed out the last DVD player on the shelf to a brother who had taken his licks. Take the box. Read it, apply it, and live. Most of all “Keep It Together, Man.”
Peace out,
Wingman
