Modernity: Just a Whisker
I never thought I would sell T-verse and then I did. And the rush of the sale carried with me as I drove home that night across that snow-covered open spread of New York, under those wonderful bridges where you can see them from far out in the rearview and you can see the slight dipping slope of the great New York State Thruway. I felt I could make it then – driving in the winter after selling T-verse. If I could close the deal and carry the customer over and through the technical tedium and puffed up commercial stumbling (“you know Horizon’s network is closer to an edge network – we got the real 5G!”) then I could write also on some grand subject of profound interest to people of the world.
With these thoughts in mind I seemed to stretch the poetic tentacles or feelers, if you will, of my mind’s eye out from the car and into the shine dipped in the placid fields of snow and over the gloss on the road and up into the sky. I’d show them. I’d show all of these guys. All those wheelers and dealers down it New York City making books and movies -- I’m comin’ for ya! I thought. And for once I felt strangely contented, connected even. And yet I—I was just a whisker – a whisker on the snout of New York.