The Cocktail Hour and the Dreaded Buffet Lines (March 2002)

The last month has been one of the busiest times in the last five years. What recession? What slowdown?

I still am able to work and, while grateful for every day, some are longer than others, and each one presents it’s own unique challenges. Here is an account of my week starting March 11, 2002.  Why don’t you just ride along with me and enjoy the trip.

Monday 3/11/02:

• I leave Westminster, MD at 6:30 AM for the drive to Gaithersburg, MD where our office is. This is normally a one hour and ten minute drive; this day it was over two hours. Traffic! A minor accident closed one of the arteries for an interminable 30 minutes. Coffee that was welcome early now presented it’s own problem for an old guy stuck in his car.
• The first appointment was, naturally, early. Roger arrived at 8:30, not at 9:00; unfortunately the rush was on. He left after an hour and a half and now I’m back on schedule. Good meeting with some possibilities.
• I am in the construction business and our company builds large buildings for a variety of clients. The next appointment is a little different as I will pick Tom up, who is in charge of real estate and buildings for his firm in Rockville, MD. Our company is completing a new three building complex with over 300,000 square feet of space and an attached 750 car five story parking garage about a mile from Tom’s office and we have the chance to show this off to him at stages of completion ranging from 85 % to 100% finished spaces before the owner moves in.
• I forgot to take the key to the elevators, which are locked to keep all of the construction workers off of them. We walked all five (5) floors of the three buildings, from end to end, and floor to floor. After all that was the plan. But then I thought that the elevator would be operational: I’m not good on the steps, and I’m really lousy on the ones from the fourth floor to the fifth, really lousy. But, I didn’t fall, and that’s good news.
• Back to the office for another meeting with someone who wants to sell me something I don’t want or need. I’m too tired to buy.
• 401 K meeting from 3 to 4 PM, then into the car for the 70 minute ride home, followed by dinner with my wife, Mary and Louise, my mother-in-law and friend; then another hour and ½ downstairs in my office at home. Finally in bed by 10:30.

• Up at 5:45; an early breakfast with Mary at 6:30, and down to the office by 7:00. Paperwork and computer work until 11:30 when I leave for a luncheon meeting in Columbia, an hour away: a good meeting with some long term potential. Two stops on the way back to the office at home; one with my daughter Clare and her two boys, Ricky (4) and Charlie (2). Great!! The second is with a well known retired sportscaster who I’ve asked to be the Master of Ceremonies at a black tie function in November for the Mission of Mercy, an exceptional Charity who’s cause I champion. I’m home by 5:30: dinner again with Mary & Louise, and back to the basement office for two hours. 46 E-mails to read: I don’t even know 46 people who can use the computer.
• Let me tell you about my computer abilities: Remember I’m almost 60: I finally turned one on about 1996; it scared the devil out of me from the start. I just knew that I’d hit the wrong button and the whole state of Kansas would disappear forever. My brother-in-law Don and I took an eight-week semi-private computer course from a friend of Marny’s. Don is smarter that I am, but just as scared. After the first hour, I’m playing solitaire, with Don. No, not by myself, but with Don! And we’re pretty good as a team.
• Time passed, and lessons progressed; Kansas stayed on the map and was still a State and I lost some of my feelings of stupidity. That is until Ricky breezed by me with a CD in hand about a month ago, sat down at his Dad’s computer and, before I could get out of the chair in a panic (about 42 seconds, a record), turned it on, put the CD in, and maneuvered the mouse to the icon for whatever game it was, and started playing. I think the game was called Eliminate Kansas. I’m totally inadequate when compared to Ricky.

Wednesday 3/13/02:

• Same AM routine, but this day I pack clothes for the night and head to downtown Washington, DC. I’m still learning about what I can’t do; and I can’t work at the same pace as I’ve done for years. Since I have this Business Dinner tonight in Bethesda, MD and appointments today and tomorrow in downtown DC, I’m going to spend the night in a hotel about 3 blocks from the White House.
• First stop is with an Architectural firm close to Andrews AFB, about 1½ hour from home. Good meeting with the promise of two new church projects that need my expertise: the first is an addition worth about $1.7 million; the second is a new 3000 seat sanctuary that will be close to $12 million. Our company has an annual volume in excess of $150 million of new commercial construction, and it’s my job to bring in the business.
• Lunch with the client at a Mexican restaurant that has a buffet. I’m the only one with table service in the place. Good food, and good company. Drop the client back at his office, pull over and take another look at the maps, rethink the afternoon, and decide to head to downtown DC at 2:30 and check in at the Holiday Inn on 15^th & Rhode Island Ave, and then "beat the traffic" out of town and make two calls in Bethesda before the Business Dinner, which is held in a Ballroom at the Hyatt.
• Calls made, call the office and return four more voice mails. Things are really too technological for me: what happened to one telephone line? What happened to the upside down nail with all those pink slips with written down names and phone numbers on them? What happened to simplicity?
• It’s now 6:00PM and since there will be about 300 people at this dinner, and I’ve invited 14 of them as our guests, I get into the room where cocktails are to be served and where the temperature will rise exponentially as the room fills before they open the doors to the banquet room. I’ve got a well thought-out plan that’s based on attending things like this for over 30 years; and I’ve got my cane this year, and my balance isn’t too bad today. Find a support column close to where the drinks are served, lean back on it, and I can see the room, spot the guests as they arrive, and not get bumped around too much.
• An 8 oz glass of ginger ale starts off the evening. No problem! Drink in left hand, napkins in coat pocket, cane in right, cheeks against the column: I’m in control. Three of my guests are there at once: good conversation starts; tuck the cane to the left; shake hands; drop the cane, try to bend over & pick it up, but one of the guys beats me to it, thankfully; laughter; catching up on family.
• The drink in my left hand is leaning toward the floor and I don’t realize it, but the top of my shoe is wet with ginger ale. I knew the drink was getting heavier; I didn’t know it had tilted about 30 degrees down until my foot was wet. My brain says to my hand "hold the drink straight, dummy" and my hand blames the weak wrist. Even the half empty glass weighs more than I can hold up. As I ponder feeling sorry for myself, a thirty something bumps into me and I see the floor, crowded with legs, as a reality. Marty, to my left, is really quick and he quickly leans into me with the right amount of support. I don’t kiss the floor, thank God; I almost want to kiss Marty.
• Finally the doors open into the banquet room for dinner. It‘s the same room as in years past, many of the same people, but something’s wrong. It’s a buffet line and it’s at the far end of the room. The tickets cost more than in years’ past, but it’s a buffet this year, a buffet. Sorry, but my real feelings can’t be put on paper for this column, but you know what I’m not saying. I’m at table 7, and the buffet line is next to table 149.
• I call to the "waiter" who finally comes over: too bad he doesn’t understand English or my attempt at universal sign language. I can’t get up without causing a scene of sorts, but I do manage to pull the cane out from under the table, and the waiter tries to be helpful by grabbing it to put it over against the wall, out of sight I guess. NO! I try to say reasonably quietly, but it comes out louder than I anticipated and the waiter is as embarrassed as I am. Fortunately the talking of the attendees is louder. OK, I can make the best of this: always have been able to in the past.
• Up from the chair again to say the invocation: ½ way back down and the Pledge to the Flag is ready to start. OK all you exercise fanatics, show me how to rise from a ½ seating position without pulling the tablecloth and all the silverware eight inches toward me. And another thing, there ought to be a law requiring that chairs this heavy on rugs like this must have casters on them. Where’s OSHA for practicality issues like this.
• I try to make amends with the waiter as best as non-verbally possible, but he wants to be as far away from me as he can be. I pick up the glass of water in front of me and almost spill it: I try again, this time holding it with two hands just like I had to when I was three or four, but I’m OK with it. The waiter snickers and I don’t blame him: it must look as funny as it feels.
• "Table 7, 8, and 9" calls the one in charge. Marty has sat across from me, and he and two others ask what they can do to help me with the food. I’m really fine, I reply as it takes me a full 90 seconds to rise, "get my legs" back, and figure out the best path from here to the food. No problem getting over there.
• The food line is slow. I can’t do the slow small step routine without stumbling. My size 13’s need a good area in front so I can plant them down: no shuffling for me. The food line shuffles. I pick out the flattest piece of meat I can find, and look for things that won’t roll, but they have carrots, peas, small boiled potatoes chickpeas, loose grapes, melon balls and everything else God made that would move including those fancy little balls of butter. The cane, which I have to lean on my hip whenever I put something else round on my plate, is magnetically attracted to the floor. It almost drops twice.
• The plate is about half full, but this will do for now. I turn and head for the other side of the football sized room and after going about ten yards, the plate is doing the same thing as that glass of ginger ale. I can’t hold it and make it back to my seat; it’s just impossible. Where’s that waiter that I really need? Where are my friends? Why am I here, I should know better that to do this, alone.
• By the time I make it back to my table most of the dinners are half consumed; mine is half cold. OK you guys, who does not have the choking problem? All who don’t, please stand up! Poor choice; please give a show of hands. I announce to all that I can’t talk well while eating, and I start to s l o w l y begin to eat. Sure enough, the man on my left wants to know how many and how old are my grandchildren. I politely try the same sign language that didn’t work with the waiter earlier. This guy must be related to him because he doesn’t get it either.
• The evening’s affair ends with one of the worst comics I’ve ever sat through: bad jokes, lousier attempts to coerce laughter from a silent crowd of 400, all of whom would’ve gotten a real laugh out of watching me spill the drink on my shoes earlier.
• It’s now 10:15 PM and I get to my car for the drive back to downtown DC for the night. By 10:50 I’m in bed and asleep.

• It’s a beautiful morning in the Nation’s Capitol: today will be sunny and 70 and most of the trees are already in bloom. This area is about three weeks ahead of home, which is a lot higher in elevation and 60 miles North. Up at 7, shower and read the paper, and downstairs for a breakfast meeting with Manute, the Hotel manager, in the restaurant. He’s a real gentleman and wants to know what else he can do for me. We skip the breakfast buffet, opting for table service. Business accomplished, I head back to the room to pack and double check the briefcase for the materials needed for the next three meetings, and check out.
• Manute lets me leave my car in the garage and offers to drop me off in the hotel carat my first appointment. Thanks, but I’ll walk, and I start out for a five block leisurely stroll to the first appointment, 35 minutes from now: piece of cake. After three long blocks I rethink my decision not to take the courtesy car. After the fifth block I’m sweating. All suited up with a wet dress shirt. But I’m there on time.
• My son gave me this briefcase with a shoulder strap that I am using today, slung over one shoulder with the strap crossing my chest. I feel like a woman with a large purse, but it works and is easier to carry than swinging it at my side.
• Fortunately for me, the client, who has been delayed thirty minutes, calls and apologizes for being late. Now, for years I’ve had John Coakley’s Ten Minute Rule. Simply stated, I respect others’ time and expect my time to also be respected, so I’ll wait ten minutes for anyone, but not eleven for anybody. I would always leave and wait for the person to call, apologize, and reschedule the appointment, at which time he absolutely has to buy. This morning I throw the rule away, silently thanking him for being late enough to let my shirt dry to the point that it doesn’t look two-toned. The 10:30 appointment starts at 11:15 and ends at noon.
• The next meeting is with a large internationally known Architectural firm about one block away. I leave my case in their office and we head to Morton’s Steak House on Connecticut Ave, another block away, and across the street. They walk briskly, and I am lagging behind. They make the light: I wait for the "walk" light to come on. As I try to enter the building, I don’t have the strength to pull the door open. I’m wiped out. This should be simple, but….well, you know. The guy behind me was about 85 and he opened the door for me. Makes one feel really hale and hearty! Where’s Candid Camera when you need it?
• They are waiting at the escalator for me. Up and into the restaurant where they want to have the same conversational pleasantries about family and work before we get down to business. We had a good but one-sided conversational lunch; they talked and I listened, with a polite uh-huh from time to time, but we got a lot accomplished; then back to their office for a wrap up and agreement to meet in two weeks, but not for a meal.
• The walk back to the car was 45 minutes, but only six blocks. Not bad when you realize that there were four five minute rests on two street benches, one fountain side, and one streetlight pole. I collapse in the car and toss, no shove, the briefcase across the seat. I feel really tired, but I need to head toward home and beat some of the traffic.
• There is a place on Route 97 outside of the Capitol Beltway called Leisure World. It’s a gated community that has rules: over 65, blue hair for both men and women, everyone must have a "cripple tag" on their car, and hearing is not mandatory. But the planners were brilliant: all parking spaces are about 15" wider than normal. I think it was an insurance requirement. My gray hair passes in the sunlight, I pull in, find a place to park and am asleep in ten seconds. Not a choice but a requirement of this body.
• Thirty minutes later I’m somewhat refreshed. By the way, this immediate sleep requirement of mine: do you also need this? Is it as immediate and overwhelming as mine? For me there is no choice. I can be asleep in ten seconds or less.
• OK, awake at 4:30 and back on the road, heading to Home. Mary always looks great, but she’s radiant when I haven’t seen her for a day or two. All I want is to relax with her at home, but we are going out to our prayer group’s St. Patrick’s Day dinner celebration; it’s been on the calendar for the last month, and to us Irishmen St Patrick’s is a week long celebration of High Holy Days. Never mind that I’m tired. Jack and Pat had the best corned beef dinner I’ve ever had! Whiskey first and Irish Coffee afterwards. Home by 10:30, thank God.

• Alarm at 5:45, up by 7:15. I wanted to stay in bed. Legs cramped and ached all night, like I had run with Ed in one of his marathons. All I want to do is stay home and do my catch-up paperwork from here. No chance! Back to Gaithersburg by 9:15 where I learned that the office move we talked about for the last four months was in progress. I invoked my rule of the Three Ds: Decide, Delegate, and Disappear. I left them in charge, made two calls close to the office and was home by 5:30.
• All in all, a good but long week. Would I do it again? Sure. Differently. I’d learn "waiterese" better. I’ll get ½ of a drink. I’ll ask for help. I’ll take the Hotel car or a cab. I’m still learning: I thought it was smart to stay in DC rather than go home after the cocktail hour and the dreaded buffet line. It was, but next time it’ll be even smarter. Only 580 miles this week.

Next week in preparation for the trip to Philadelphia after seeing Charlie and Anna Lea in West Virginia.  I’ll be just as busy, but hopefully wiser. 

Best to you all, and Enjoy Life!

John A. Coakley, Sr.

Westminster, MD