Monday. 4:59pm. The big conference room on the 60th floor — the one looking west over LA that the partners request when they want to impress someone.
He glanced around at the suits in the room, each one indistinguishable from the next in the late afternoon glare. On his watch, the second hand hit vertical. 5 o'clock. Sigh. 5 o'clock somewhere — here. Yet the slideshow was still only halfway done and that old lyric never seemed to hold as true in real life as it does in workland cultural lore.
As seconds dripped into minutes and one too many comments on this year's investment portfolio from overeager colleagues, his mind wandered to what was next. Whiskey on rocks. Ahhh. He settled into his chair, then abruptly sat up. Wait! No, he'd promised he'd trade a few happy hours each week for workouts. At first it felt like a chore, then became an addiction. Music throbbing, feet spinning, heart pumping. The floor around his bike splattered with saline evidence of a hard evening's work. That feeling of action, accomplishment.
He pulled out his phone and clicked *book* on the 6:45 class, and was back in the room, re-engaged at the table. "Any final thoughts?" He heard someone ask in his direction, and he MVP'd an applause-worthy suggestion. Work, life, workout... balance. Not mutually exclusive, he thought, smiling, gym bag slung around his shoulder. The elevator doors closed and he descended, ready to take on the rest of the day.
🗯 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧. 𝐎𝐤𝐚𝐲, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧’𝐭 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐨𝐤𝐚𝐲? 𝐒𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐠𝐨 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐬, 𝐓𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞, 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐯𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐤. 💙💪🏽