The Lovely Chocolate Mob - By Richard J. Bennett Page 0,52

day I showed up for work with a splitting headache, and couldn’t figure out if it was from the soda pops, from the lack of sleep, or the new ravages of entering early old age, or all three. Anyway, there I was at the drafting board, trying to concentrate on how to make water run away from the building of our latest project.

The bosses popped in and out, looked over my shoulder at the drawings, gave a “Hmmm” and an “Uh-huh,” but didn’t say anything else. They stood around a little bit; that was part of their job, then left to go do something else. They just showed up because they were expected to do that. Guess they knew I didn’t want to be bothered with a bunch of questions; goodness knows I didn’t want to answer any, especially early in the morning.

I calculated and figured for a few hours, concentrating so much it was as though I were drawn into another world; that happens when one deals with math; for a short while, you really are in another dimension. The biggest concern I had all morning was making sure all the numbers added up, and to remember to carry the “2.”

I would have this project done in a week, then I’d turn it over to the other engineers so they could check my work. They wouldn’t find any problems; they’ll make suggestions and try to add to or take away from it, but after they look at it for another week, they’ll give it their okay and pass it on to the other inspectors.

At just before noon, I went to visit Miss Planter; that is, I went to my mental health appointment. Nobody at work knew that I was visiting a mental health counselor, since I didn’t want anybody asking any foolish questions or coming to conclusions that I was depressed or suicidal or losing my mind. There were some people who seemed to look for a reason or an excuse to fire others, so I didn’t want to give them one. Besides, it was none of their business anyway; if I wanted to get my brains checked over, that’s between me and my counselor. Why involve the general public in this?

Phyllis welcomed me in a pleasant manner at noontime. While sitting in the waiting area, I could hear her talking on the work phone, making plans for lunch. Since appointments were scheduled during my lunch break, I wondered: Had I been taking up Miss Planter’s lunch time as well?

Miss Planter came out of her office, greeted me, and after we went into the office I asked her if I was ruining her dinner plans. She looked a little surprised, then said “No, it’s no bother; I schedule people whenever they can make it.”

I said, “Let’s cancel today’s session. Let me take you out to dinner.”

There was even more surprise on Miss Planter’s face. “Don’t you think this would blend into the area of your personal life, or my personal life?” she asked. “I’m a counselor and you’re a client/patient; there are rules to this game.”

“Well, then, let’s have a session, but go out to eat,” I replied. “You can still charge for the session and you won’t miss a meal. In fact, I’m hungry and don’t think I’ll enjoy this session without something in my stomach.”

She gave in, smiled, and got her purse. We went out to the waiting area and told Phyllis that we were walking down to a local restaurant; we asked her if she wanted us to bring her anything. She said no, that she was meeting her boyfriend and would be back at 1 p.m. Yep, she’ll be married soon.

Miss Planter and I took the elevator down to the first floor and left the building, walking down to a nearby barbecue place, a locale we could agree on. We found a booth, got comfortable, and ordered.

“You seem a little chipper today,” Miss Planter said. “You’re acting as if something good has happened. Has it?”

I smiled, and said, “I think it has. I think I’ve been useful in someone else’s life. This helps me to justify my existence, I suppose. I feel good about myself.”

Miss Planter paused for a moment, then asked, “Does your existence need justifying, Mr. Owen? Did it ever need it, or do you need to have a reason to exist?”

“I suppose not; however, it feels good to have been useful, or helpful.”

“Can you tell me about this?” she asked. “It might