The Walk in the Park That Wasn’t
Or, that time I blundered through talking to a depressed friend
It was a late fall day, and the sky was overcast. The coolness and shade was a welcome respite from the nearly year-round glaring of the Florida sun. I parked my car on a grassy spot near the first hole of the local park's disc golf course and hopped out. I waved to my friend, Mike, who was already there waiting.
"Hey, man, how's it going?" I asked out of habit.
"Good," he lied.
I knew it was a lie. He knew I knew. I knew before I asked. It's the whole reason we were hanging out. I stepped up to the tee and winged my driver way too high into the air and watched it climb diagonally only to return along the same trajectory, landing embarrassingly far from the hole.
Mike shook his head as I held out my spare driver for him. "Oh, no thanks," he said.
So he walked with me as I demonstrated how not to play disc golf and we talked. At first it was just a little small talk. To be honest, I was really nervous. I didn't know how to start the conversation I wanted to have with him. Eventually, I dived in.
"Listen, uh, Ben told me you've been having some trouble covering your stores," I said delicately. Ben was our district manager. Mike and I…
