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Candy | Oct 03 2001

Paul got to work and felt bad. No reason. Well, reason. Not worth thinking about reason. Decided to call Liz. Got into the damn “press such-and-such for such-and-such” loop. Tried her extension. No, didn’t know her extension. Tried her initials in the company directory. Didn’t work. Called again, hit zero for operator. Operator transferred him. Liz answered. Her “work” voice. He felt stupid. Stupid mistake to call. Said something like, “In light of our conversation last night, I thought of calling you. I feel bad. Can you give me just a minute?” She said, “Sure, I’ll call you back.” The whole thing felt stupid. Got up and walked into the conference room. Shut the door and locked it, then jumped up and down as though incredibly excited. This is what she’d suggested the previous night, to do an action associated with a feeling. Didn’t work. Jumped on the floor first, then switched to the carpet for fear of someone hearing. Went back to his desk and took a staple out of something. Went back to conference room and did the jumping thing again. This actually worked a little. Phone was ringing when he returned. Liz. He told her what he’d done, the jumping. She suggested he go buy some candy, a kind that kids like, Starbursts or something. He said, “I don’t really eat candy. Candy makes me feel worse.” She said, “Well, buy some and give it away.” This made him laugh, her insistence on candy. Noticed he didn’t feel so bad anymore. They only talked a minute. Now it’s several hours later and he’s leaving to get candy.