Where Do We Go From Here?

“So, where are we at?” is a good line to use in a business conversation but not when driving or on the receiving end from a ticked off female.

There have been a few times in negotiating with a business prospect that I sensed that they were ready for the kill. Homed in on their emotional connection, I made sure not to seem as if I was pushing the agenda. It would be better to let them state the willingness to proceed with the deal. After all, it was their money to spend.

“So, where are we at?” was spoken and the usual response was “when can we get started?” and it meant I scored a new customer.

Then there have been times I was involved with a lady that offered intriguing possibilities. I came close a couple of times to giving in and showing a firm commitment but then there was that voice I heard swirling in my head saying “don’t do it- you’ll regret it.”
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The Play’s The Thing

Now I tell you that I consider the people of the east side of New York City are the finest, the kindest, the most intelligent people in the world. People who are not afraid of no word like.. like, anarchist.” So began the opening lines to a play that debuted on Broadway in late March of 1968 and lasted about a month before closing.

In the mid 1970’s, I belonged to a community organization that decided to put on this same play for four benefit performances on two successive Saturday and Sunday evenings. Among other energetic amateurs, I volunteered to play whatever part was deemed appropriate for me. Being in my early twenties and among the youngest among the volunteers, I was given the role of Jimmy the Anarchist. It was by no means a lead part but it was significant because the character spoke the opening lines to both the first and second acts. I had to memorize about ten sentences in all plus sing background in the chorus. In both scenes my character had to interact with a street cop. The officer was to bark at me and make an effort to put me under arrest. The fellow who was given this part looked it perfectly when he put on the uniform. He was the nicest guy but he just could not remember his lines. It ended up practically each time I had to say both his and my lines to get through the exposition.

In one exchange, I was supposed to say, “I hear they’ve taken Charlie McKenna off the machines and into the hospital. Are we gonna stand for it?” The copper was then supposed to say, “hear, now! You come over here, lad.” Except when the curtain was up, lights dimmed with a live audience hovering over every word, he froze and mumbled a bit. So I said, “what’s that, copper? You want me to come over to you?” And all he could do was shake his head yes.
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