The Leap or: Propelling the Digital HQ into the Synergized and Optimized World of Future Commerce Solutions and Customer Success: Story of a Regional Executive Assistant Marketing Manager of Brand Development Ambassador Associates

Nolan reached into his cupboard to retrieve a box of cereal. The box featured a cartoon tiger who claimed that the flakes inside were “G-R-R-REAT!” Nolan agreed with that assessment of the flakes. The box also featured a smaller image of a superheroine from an upcoming movie. She wielded a magic lasso that compelled its victims to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Nolan poured the flakes, poured the milk, and turned on his television. On screen, three men in suits sat around a desk. Two of them argued about which particular basketball player is the greatest of all time. The third man interjected occasionally with little bits of information. Nolan listened. Perhaps this conversation would solve this question once and for all.

The show took a break, and Nolan immediately pulled out his phone, opened a photo-sharing app, and placed it on the coffee table. With this arrangement, he could look at his phone, take a bite of cereal, then scroll while chewing, all while halfheartedly listening to the television. Three things at once. People on the photo-sharing app were continuing the same basketball player debate.

On the TV, an animated gecko walked down the Brooklyn Bridge, discussing auto insurance, RV insurance, and motorcycle insurance. He explained that, if Nolan were to bundle these three products, he could save money. At the end, he said “Forget about it!” as New Yorkers do. Nolan didn’t own an RV or a motorcycle, and he already bought auto insurance from the gecko’s company, so he didn’t pay attention. Instead, he scrolled, finding a video of a young woman at a gas station. She looked back into her car, making funny faces as she pumped gas. The text read, “My biggest green flag is I will let you out of my life so fast. Thank you can find better than me? Be my guest.” It was unclear whether the “Thank” was a legitimate typo or an intentional misspelling to drive people to correct it in the comments, which then would drive the post’s engagement, which in turn would drive the account’s followers. The world will never know.

Next, the television showed a former professional football player and a former professional baseball player. They were hitting golf balls at a driving range. An everyday man, neither pro football player nor pro baseball player, approached, in awe of such impressive athletes. The three men discussed the phenomenon wherein men, when they reach forty years of age, experience a loss of testosterone, coinciding with less energy and less drive. Luckily, the pro athletes knew about a pill that would take care of the problem. During the conversation, the everyday man’s wife walked up. The baseball player assured the everyday man that “she’ll like it too,” which meant that, if he took the pills, he would fuck her proficiently.

Nolan wasn’t forty years old, so he had no interest in the pills. His thumb clicked on an icon which led him to the video-sharing portion of the photo-sharing app. A bald man pointed up at snippets of music videos. Each song had a similar melody. The video asked, “Who did it best?” The man just smiled and pointed. It was up to Nolan to decide who did it best. The next video showed one of the prettiest women Nolan had ever seen in his life. The word “sorry” hovered above her. A song with the repeated lyrics “nothing’s new” played. She made different facial expressions while wearing different outfits. The video had 3.1 million likes. Nolan would’ve added one more, but he was now dating a woman, and it would be inappropriate for him to like a post from a pretty young woman.

When the television program resumed, they showed highlights from a baseball game between the Los Angeles Dodgers and the San Francisco Giants from the day before. Baseball was of much more interest to Nolan, so he watched intently as he chewed his cereal. Nolan was born and raised in San Diego, and therefore he hated the Dodgers, the Giants, and everyone associated with them. That is, until a player switched from one of those teams to the Padres, in which case Nolan immediately forgave them and loved them. The Dodgers won. The TV then displayed a graphic, comparing a current Dodgers player, born in 1994, to a dead Yankees player, born in 1895. Through the same number of games, they had a similar number of home runs, and their pitching records were almost identical. A baseball expert was brought on to pontificate about the two players’ respective legacies.

Nolan finished his cereal, rinsed the bowl and spoon, and placed them in the dishwasher. He took a deep breath before moving on with the rest of the day.

In the bathroom, he took off all his clothes and sat on the toilet. On his phone, he opened a video-sharing app. His thumb scrolled through the personal recommendations until he found a 25-minute video about a video game he had played at a friend’s house in fifth grade. He clicked on the thumbnail. Nolan didn’t want to watch it then and there, but he wanted the video to be in his recent history so he could watch it later. The app contained a feature to add videos to a “watch later” list, but Nolan never used that, for some reason. Before the actual video played, a different 15-second video started, which showed a mobile game being played poorly. The idea was to frustrate Nolan by showing him incompetent gameplay, make him feel superior to the imaginary gamer, which would lead to him into downloading the game to “prove” that he could play better. Instead, Nolan just felt impatient.

Nolan closed out the actual video once it had time to register in his watch history. He scrolled through suggested videos for more. Two men drafted the best sauces, the Google Pixel 8 was now just $599, a man responded to Alex Rodriguez’s “GIRLBOSS Hall of Fame Agenda,” and one video purported to show “Every Hollywood movie when they arrive in Middle East #subscribe.” None of these piqued Nolan’s interest. His fingers went back to the photo-sharing app. Once there, he saw a post about the man who hit the most home runs in Major League Baseball history. In the comment section, someone asserted that steroids did not help this man with his swing mechanics or hand-eye coordination. It wasn’t clear why this comment was made, as this point was never in dispute. Still, on every single post about this home-run-hitting man, Nolan always saw a comment making the same assertion as if it was brand new information to the world. Some people enjoy arguing against no one.

His thumbs then opened a career networking app. The app suggested a person for Nolan to follow. The person had recently posted a video containing the text, “Leadership is an action. Not a position.” The video showed a cheetah running after a large group of monkeys. At first, one monkey stood up to defend itself against the cheetah. A red arrow pointed at that first monkey, indicating that Nolan should watch that particular monkey. Then several other monkeys pounced on the cheetah, trying to kill it. Eventually the cheetah broke free and ran away. The monkeys chased it. The person had written paragraphs about leadership in the context of business, not monkeys and cheetahs. Nolan didn’t follow the person.

After he shit, shaved, showered, brushed his teeth, and got dressed, it was time to go to the grocery store. In his car, which was named after an early 20^th century antisemitic industrialist and a process by which the sun combines two hydrogen atoms to form helium, Nolan plugged in his phone and opened a music app. When Nolan was sixteen, and first driving a car, he owned a device that could hold 5,000 songs, and he could play any song at any time, listen to albums in order, make playlists and listen to them in order or shuffled, skip as many songs as he wanted, and listen to music for hours on end uninterrupted. Now he had the option of paying $10 every month, again and again and again, for those features, or not enjoying any of those features. Nolan opted not to pay the $10. So, after two songs, a message played about a dating app “designed to be deleted.” As a matter of fact, Nolan had already downloaded the app, met someone from the app, went on three dates with her, and deleted the app. He had plans to see her later that day.

Two more songs played, and Nolan stopped his car at a red light, ready to turn left into the shopping centre. To his left stood a street sign. On the back of the sign, a variety of stickers were stuck. One said “FUCK PUTIN.” Putin was a world leader who lived 6,000 miles away. Perhaps he would make a spontaneous trip from Russia to the Grantville area of San Diego and become disheartened by this unknown person’s sticker. It’s unlikely, but stranger things have happened, probably.

As Nolan stepped into the grocery store, he was greeted by a wall of twelve-packs of soda cans. Because it was the fourth of July, the twelve packs were arranged in a such a way to mimic the American flag. It wasn’t clear whether this violated the official U.S. flag code, which states that “the flag should never be used for advertising purposes in any manner whatsoever.” It wasn’t the flag per se, but stacks of soda that looked similar to the flag. Nevertheless, American flags adorned products anywhere Nolan looked. American flags were on two-liter soda bottles, boxes of cookies, cakes, packages of hot dogs, packages of hamburger patties, packages of hot dog buns, beers, bags of chips, jars of dip, signs promoting deals on watermelons, umbrellas, chairs, and so on.

Nolan walked through the crowded store into the crowded alcohol section. Though he was told that all food and drinks would be provided, he felt compelled to bring at least a six-pack of beer. Also, since the event doubled as a housewarming party, he felt compelled to bring a little gift. Clayton, the host and new homeowner, loved bourbon, but Nolan didn’t know anything about bourbon, so he searched for a bottle that looked cool, a brand name that sounded cool, and a price that was not too low and not too high. He found one, picked it up, and turned it so he could examine the back of the bottle.

The bourbon told Nolan of the various adventurous people who forged the United States, like pioneers, explorers, and warriors. Coincidentally, it was in this very same adventurous American spirit that the bourbon was proudly presented to Nolan! The bourbon explained that it was crafted by special forces soldiers who joined the military days after a terrorist attack in 2001. That seemed interesting and patriotic, so Nolan decided to buy it.

While waiting in line, his hand reached into his pocket, pulled out his cellular phone, and opened the photo-sharing application. He clicked on a picture that showed the Earth as seen from outer space above the middle of the Pacific Ocean. The planet’s surface was almost entirely water from this angle, with just a few small islands here or there. Nolan opened the comment section, where several users argued that the planet was actually flat somehow. Another user suggested that all the Jews in the world should be rounded up and settled in one of the small islands shown. Nolan placed the beer and bourbon on the conveyor belt.

The cashier scanned the items, and Nolan then looked down at the payment terminal. The terminal asked Nolan for his phone number. Nolan entered a number that had not been in use in fifteen years. The old phone number made the alcohol cheaper for some reason. Next, the terminal asked if Nolan would like to help solve world hunger forever. Nolan replied, “No.” It’s not that he liked world hunger. In fact, if one were to ask Nolan about his opinion of world hunger, he’d say it’s quite bad. It just wasn’t clear to him how his extra dollar would be used to help the situation.

Nolan entered his friend’s new address into his phone’s navigation system. The phone advised him to turn onto the I-15 North on-ramp. He did so. The phone then told him to merge onto I-15 North. The only other option for Nolan was to crash his vehicle into the freeway’s retaining wall. Nolan followed the phone’s instructions. The traffic was good, and Nolan drove fast. He did this until he had to merge on to California 52 West. Now the traffic was bad, and Nolan drove slowly. His mind went a bit fuzzy as he looked at the vehicle in front of him. On its rear window were several stickers that looked like people. They were arranged to represent the members of the driver’s family. There was a father, mother, three children, and a little dog. It wasn’t clear why they wanted to communicate their family structure to Nolan, but sometimes it’s nice to share bits of information to other people.

Clayton introduced Nolan to several of his friends and colleagues. Nolan looked each of them in the eyes, firmly shook their hands, and immediately forget all of their names. They discussed podcasts and cryptocurrencies and the daily process of sitting in an ice cold tub of water. They looked at the ocean from the backyard. At one point, an airplane flew by, dragging a flag behind it. The flag had the name of an insurance company on it, the same insurance company with the gecko on the Brooklyn Bridge, the same company from which Nolan already purchased insurance.

Nolan opened one his beers and sipped it. He mingled. He shook many hands and told people about where he lived, what he did for a living, and his educational background. He also asked other people for this same information. One wealthy-looking, middle-aged man approached Nolan for a conversation. He had tan skin and thick grey hair. His white shirt was half-buttoned, revealing a bit of white chest hair. Standing with the wealthy man, and linking arms with him, was a beautiful blonde woman who was about twenty-five years old. The man introduced himself and the woman to Nolan. They lightly discussed current events, and they all laughed at each other’s comments. The man informed Nolan that Clayton spoke quite highly of him. He then produced a business card, handed it to Nolan, and advised him to “Reach out sometime.” The man stepped away, and the woman expressed to Nolan how nice it was to meet him. She smiled and reached out, touching his upper arm, slowly sliding her hand down to his bicep before letting go and stepping away.

Nolan felt strange about the interaction, so he finished his first beer and opened another. He took three big gulps and looked out at the ocean. People walked and laughed and splashed around in the water. Another plane flew by, this one carrying a banner for a local gentleman’s club. If he felt so inclined, Nolan could drive to this establishment and watch women take their clothes off and gyrate around a metal pole. If he felt particularly rambunctious, he could toss dollar bills onto the stage to encourage the women. And, if boldness and excitement overtook him, and if the security guards allowed it, he could playfully put some more dollar bills into the waistband of one of the performer’s underwear. However, Nolan had never been to such a place, and had no intention of ever going.

His beer bottle was almost empty, but he didn’t finish it, even though he wanted to drink the rest. This was a strategy Nolan employed to make it appear as though he were still drinking. This comforted him. He didn’t want to open another beer, and he didn’t to have nothing in his hands, and he also didn’t want to walk around with an empty bottle. Occasionally he lifted the bottle to his lips and tilted it, but he wouldn’t actually swallow any more liquid. It was all an illusion, fooling the other guests at the party. When Nolan was ready to leave, he finally finished the last sip of his beer, thanked Clayton for inviting him, and left.

The legal limit for blood alcohol content while operating a motor vehicle was 0.08. Having drank two twelve-ounce bottles of 5% beer, and being approximately 180 pounds, Nolan’s blood alcohol content was approximately 0.05. Yet, he drove with tremendous caution down the freeway. The music was low. He kept both hands on the steering wheel. He stayed in the right lane, driving slowly, focusing on the road and the vehicles in front of him. Though he was legally allowed to drive a car, he didn’t want to give any potential police officer any potential reason to pull him over. Whenever he drove with even a sip of alcohol inside him, he felt paranoid. When he arrived in the parking lot for his apartment complex, he sighed in relief.

Before he started getting ready for his next outing, he pulled out his phone. He returned to the video-sharing application. His plan worked perfectly. There, listed in his viewing history, was the same 25-minute gaming video he had found that very morning. Just where he left it. Flawless execution. As Nolan brushed his teeth, removing all traces of beer, he listened to a young man speaking about a video game from the early 2000s. The video provided information, storytelling, technical aspects of video games and consoles, and jokes about current events from the time the video game was released, like how the United States invaded Iraq under false pretenses.

Feeling the slightest possible buzz in his brain from the two beers, he walked to the trolley station. He felt happy, and the sun warmed his face. On his way, he passed by a parked car that was decorated in such a way too make it look like a mouse. On the side of the vehicle was printed the name of a company. The company did not sell mice or raise mice. In fact, it specialized in killing mice. Nolan wondered if mice ever noticed this vehicle and considered it a deity. Probably not. At the station, he scanned his yellow card, then boarded the red train on the green line towards downtown San Diego.

Seated, he once again pulled up his trusty old image-and-short-video-sharing application. He clicked on one video. A man in his thirties, wearing a Chicago Bulls hat and a t-shirt with a clown comic book villain on it, took two steps forward and sipped a mug of coffee. Music played. On top of the video was text, which read, “Kids today are soft. I’m pretty sure I d!ed once when I was like 6, and my mom made me walk it off.” The man didn’t write “died” for fear that the platform would consider this a violent post, then perform some technological trickery to make the post much less popular. It seems as though one of the largest tech companies on the planet could get fooled by the simple replacing of the letter “i” with an exclamation point.

Nolan’s thumb accidentally hit the username on the post, which led to the poster’s account. Every single post was essentially the same. The man would walk two steps towards the camera, he’d sip coffee from a mug, Michael Jackson’s “Billie Jean” would play, and complaining text would be displayed. The account had approximately 1,900,000 followers.

Annoyed, Nolan’s thumb closed this app and opened the video sharing app. He clicked on a video of baseball highlights to get him into the mood to watch a baseball game. Before the highlights played, an actor spoke to Nolan about the actor’s very own wireless service provider company. Nolan already paid for this mobile service provider, and, in fact, he was using their service at the very moment to watch the ad for the very same service. Nolan saw this same message from this same actor so frequently before videos, that he believed his account had encountered some kind of glitch with the video platform. He watched the baseball highlights in peace, the commentary playing in his wireless earbuds.

Nolan exited the train at the “gaslamp quarter” stop, and walked a couple blocks to the stadium. He arrived a little earlier than he had expected.

While waiting, he remembered the daily trivia game that he often played. He opened his phone’s internet browser. He didn’t like his browser keeping track of all his history, so he opened an incognito window. In the search bar, he typed “mlb immaculate.” The browser then showed nine square photos. It asked Nolan to identify the photos that contained bicycles. He did so, which proved his humanity. Once satisfied with Nolan’s human status, the search engine offered him some cookies. Nolan respectfully rejected the cookies. That allowed him to access the search results. He tapped on the first link, and the trivia website offered him some more cookies. Nolan rejected these as well. He just wasn’t in the mood for cookies at the moment.

At last, he was able to play the trivia game. He was tasked with remembering baseball players that fit within various categories. He thought of some quickly. With others, he struggled. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, searching through his mind’s memory. He knew those players’ names were around here somewhere, but where? He searched through the nooks, crannies, and recesses of his mind, but couldn’t find the names he needed. He achieved a score of seven out of nine, which was higher than average for that day.

Sarah arrived, and they greeted each other with a quick hug and a quick kiss. They walked together into the stadium’s courtyard. Nolan showed his phone screen, which itself showed a square, which itself was made up of small black and white squares. A man scanned the phone, which confirmed that Nolan had indeed purchased two tickets. Sarah put her handbag onto a conveyor belt and the pair walked through a detector. This was done to ensure that neither of them carried a bomb or a gun. A fat man wearing a baseball cap shouted in the courtyard, offering to sell programs. Most people ignored him. He was not deterred.

The pair made their way up an escalator and down the large hall. They passed a souvenir place, a hot dog place, a burger place, an ice cream place, another souvenir place, and a taco place. They found their seats, about thirty feet past first base and thirty seats back. The sun warmed their faces. Nolan looked around the field as Sarah talked about her job.

A wall formed the outer edge of the outfield. On it was printed an abundance of information. On the far left side, the wall informed Nolan that the distance from home plate to that particular portion of the wall was 342 feet. Next, the wall showed Nolan the logo of a worldwide logistics company. Next, the wall showed Nolan the logo of a healthcare provider. Nolan had gone to that healthcare provider once, to receive treatment on an infected toenail when he was in high school. Next, the wall showed Nolan the logo for U.S. Bank. Its name, as did that of Bank of America, made it seem like it was the central bank of the United States, but it wasn’t. Nolan had two accounts with U.S. Bank. One was a savings account with $15,949.72 in it, and the other was a checking account with $3,871.13 in it. Next, the wall showed Nolan the logo of a company that made semiconductors for cellular phones. Nolan didn’t know what a semiconductor even was. Next, the wall showed Nolan the logo of a company that advances diagnostic solutions for diseases. Nolan, as well as 99.999% of people who ever attended these baseball games, had no use for diagnostic solutions for diseases. Next, the wall showed Nolan the logo of an airline. Nolan had flown on this airline several times, most recently to Seattle for his friend’s wedding. Next, the wall showed Nolan the logo of a company that made supplements to promote skin and gut health, among other things. Nolan had never heard of the company. Next, the wall showed the logo of a company that manufactures glucose monitoring systems. Nolan had never heard of the company, and he had no need for glucose monitoring. Next, the wall showed Nolan the logo of a chain of gasoline stations. Next, the wall showed Nolan the name of a casino that was located 25 miles to the east. Nolan had been there once, several years ago, with his old roommate, who had a gambling problem. Nolan’s friend won $3,500 that day. Next, the wall told Nolan that the center field fence was 396 feet from home plate. Next, the wall showed Nolan the logo of a healthcare provider and research organization. Next, the wall showed Nolan the logo of some kind of national university, called National University. Next, the wall showed Nolan the logo of the local zoo. Nolan had visited that zoo several times as a child. He liked looking at the hippopotamus enclosure. Next, the wall showed Nolan the logo of a tire company. Next, the wall showed Nolan the logo of a company that considered itself the premier enabler of digital business, leading the way in technology solutions. It was unclear to Nolan what any of that meant. Next, the wall showed Nolan a blue cross and a blue shield, which were the logos of a health insurance company. Nolan was not a member of that particular health insurance provider. Next, the wall showed Nolan the logo of a pharmaceutical company that Nolan didn’t recognize. Next, the wall showed Nolan the logo of a pet company, the very same pet company after which the stadium was named. Nolan was taken there, when he was seven years old, by his parents, who bought him a goldfish. The goldfish lived in a bowl on Nolan’s dresser. One day, Nolan opened too many drawers on his dresser, which tipped it over. The bowl crashed and shattered, and the goldfish died. Next, the wall showed Nolan the logo of a fast food chain. Nolan ate food from this restaurant frequently. His favorite item was called a sourdough Jack. Finally, the wall told Nolan that the right field fence was 322 feet from home plate.

Sarah discussed the people in her office. Some were annoying, others were funny, and two, Sarah suspected, were secretly dating each other. She worked for a company that takes a gargantuan amount of data, throws it through a digital machine called an algorithm, which then spits out a monthly rental rate for landlords to charge. The company has helped accelerate the increase in rent across numerous American cities.

Before the game started, the crowd stood and a woman sang a song. As she sang the words, “the land of the free…” the crowd cheered. It was the national anthem for the country with the highest incarceration rate in the world. The game started, and Nolan leaned back in his seat. He watched while listening to Sarah talk. The pitchers pitched, the catchers caught, the fielders fielded, and the batters batted, or tried to anyway. They bunted and swung and fouled and struck out. Nolan root-root-rooted for the home team. Some plays, when they were particularly exciting, played again on a gigantic television screen in left field. Above the screen was a sign of the name of the stadium. To the right of the screen was a large logo for a cellphone company. The same logo was stitched onto the uniform of every Padres player. To the right of this logo was another logo, this one for a Japanese automotive manufacturer. Above that, there was, unsurprisingly, another logo. This one was for the same casino whose logo was on the outfield wall.

A man walked up and down the stands, yelling “Hot dogs! Get your hot dogs!” Nolan waved him down and bought two hot dogs. They ate as the game continued. The Padres scored three runs and let up one. After they finished their hot dogs, Sarah offered to get them a couple of beers, so Nolan offered his credit card, so he could pay for them. With her temporarily gone, Nolan watched the game. Behind the batter was the catcher, behind the catcher was the umpire, and behind the umpire was several more logos. The cell phone company was displayed again. Below that, the name of the park repeated four times. Next to that, the name of the car insurance company repeated three times. Below that, the logo for the casino displayed again. Next, the fence told Nolan about a bobblehead night, when, if Nolan attended another game, he would receive a bobblehead of the team’s best player. The prospective bobblehead was sponsored by the casino.

Sarah returned with the beers, and Nolan thanked her. The heat from the sun and the coolness from the beer provided a relaxing sensation. If Nolan were so inclined, he could look up into the right field stands to check on the scores of other concurrent baseball games. That scoreboard was sponsored by the very beer that Nolan was drinking.

They talked and laughed. The Padres won 4 to 2. Nolan and Sarah, along with 36,000 other people, shuffled out of the stadium, into the warm San Diego evening. Sarah locked her arm with Nolan’s as they walked down K Street. Fans scattered, recounting the best plays from the game. Policemen stood around, observing people as they exited the stadium.

“So,” Nolan said, “your brother’s still performing, yeah?”

“Yes, but we don’t have to see him, if you don’t want to.”

“No, I’d like to. I want to meet him.”

“Okay, but just to warn you. He’s a bit… unconventional.”

Nolan laughed. “That’s all right. I’ve met strange people before. Come on, it’ll be fine. Let’s go. What’s his name, again?”

“Chris.”

They walked together through the bustling streets of San Diego. It was loud and lively. Some people laughed, some people held each other, arm in arm, some people smoked cigarettes, some people asked for money, and one man engaged in a heated argument with an invisible stranger. When Nolan and Sarah arrived at the bar, a security guard checked their driver’s licenses to confirm that they legally could purchase alcohol in the state of California. Nolan was twenty-seven and Sarah was twenty-six, so they were allowed entrance. They sat down on a pair of high stools by a wooden barrel which served as a table. The barrel stood near an empty, slightly raised section which served as a stage. Sarah offered to buy the next pair of drinks, so she stood up and walked to the bar.

People mingled, some sitting, some standing, some shuffling about, most of them drinking. Even some of the bartenders drank, especially those whose shifts were almost over. After ten minutes, Sarah’s brother Chris, tall with shoulder-length brown hair, wearing a flannel shirt and blue jeans, walked to the stage. He carried an acoustic guitar in his hand. Another man, shorter with slick black hair, followed. He carried three different instrument cases. Chris placed his open guitar case in front of the stool, so that people could donate money if they felt so inclined. The pair sat down and tuned their instruments. Chris adjusted his microphone.

They played many well-known songs, and if the chorus was particularly famous, people sang along. Chris made jokes between songs, especially when the other guy was switching between a mandolin and a banjo and a flute. They sprinkled in a few of their own songs, which were quite good, Nolan thought. Chris sang with a raspy voice that seemed too old for him, but it sounded good. When they finished playing, Chris announced that his partner would be around selling CD’s of their music. Chris then joked about the probability, or lack thereof, that members of the audience still used CD’s. Finally, he repeated the duo’s musical name and encouraged folks to search them up on their mobile devices.

Nolan and Sarah, along with much of the bar, clapped their hands at the conclusion of the performance. Chris ordered a pint of beer from the bar and sat down with Nolan and Sarah. They introduced themselves and shared their basic information with each other. A hint of a smile etched itself on Chris’s face the whole time. When he really did smile, though, he would close his eyes and throw his head back. They discussed Chris’s life. He had recently finished (for now) renovating the van in which he lived. Chris explained that, on the day he was satisfied with his alterations on the van, he quit his welding job to pursue music full time. That was about three months ago now, and he’s doing just fine. Sarah then explained that Chris got rid of his cell phone last month. She jokingly reprimanded him for being so difficult to reach these days.

At this point, Sarah noticed a friend of hers across the bar. It was a friend she hadn’t seen in years, so she excused herself to go talk to her. Chris and Nolan each took a sip of beer.

“So, no cell phone, huh?” Nolan asked.

“Yeah. One of the best decisions for me, I think. Here’s my experience. I had a smartphone, and I was on there. I was on Instagram. I was on there a lot, like all the time, and I realized, there’s such an unbelievable amount of bullshit on there. Such stupid shit. Like, what the fuck? And then I’d think, ‘all right, this is stupid, let’s do something else,’ and then I’d close the app. And then like, ten seconds later my fingers would just open the app again. I’m not even thinking!”

Nolan laughed. “Yeah, I feel like I’ve done that before, too.”

“Exactly! But I wanted it to be better, cause I do like some stuff about, you know, art and music and stuff. So I told myself, ‘every time I come across some stupid, annoying shit, I’d block whatever account it is. But then I was just on there blocking!” Chris pantomimed the action of pressing down on a phone again and again. “That’s all I was doing. I was like the fucking… Hakeem Olajuwon of Instagram. You know him?”

“Uh,” Nolan said. “A basketball player?”

“Yeah. All-time leader in blocks. That’s all I was doing. And I figured, I need to get off these social media things. Then I realized I might as well get off the entire fuckin’ internet all together. I mean, it’s really a waste of my fuckin’ life, you know? Such a fuckin’ waste. I don’t know, I’m just some borderline alcoholic singer, what do I know?”

He took a large swig of beer.

“No, no,” Nolan said, “I’m interested in hearing your opinion.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, it’s… fresh to me. Tell me, what do you think about your sister?”

Chris threw his head back and smiled wider than he had all night. Dimples formed on his cheeks and his eyes seemed to shrink, hiding the small purple spots underneath.

“Why would you ask that? You like her, don’t you?”

Nolan looked around, making sure that Sarah was still chatting with her friend. “Of course I like her, I’ve been out with her four times, but it’s not like we’re married. I just want to hear your opinion about her.”

“I mean, she’s nice, you know. Whatever.”

“Come on, Chris, I know we just met but I already can tell you’re a bad liar. It probably doesn’t come natural to you. Come on.”

“Okay. She is nice, in a kind of casual way. An unimportant way. But, I mean, she does marketing, first off. That’s about as soulless as you can get, if you ask me, which you did. You did ask me. Can’t say that you didn’t ask. And it’s not that she’s soulless, per se, but she does soulless things, at least for work. And second off… second point… secondly, she does marketing to help landlords. To help… landlords. I mean, you don’t gotta be Karl Marx to see that that’s fucked.”

“Mmm,” Nolan said. He started to feel a bit upset about the criticism, but he was interested in hearing more.

“I’m not trying to shit on her so much, you know, I got my own problems and issues and flaws and all that. I know that. And she’s not a horrible person, she’s very nice, that’s true. She’s sweet. But I think that some people believe that their job, by virtue of it being a job that someone can have, is a moral thing to do. So they don’t have any moral questions about the repercussions of their job because it’s just their job. They just do it. Like if it was actually bad, it wouldn’t even be a legal job, that’s some people’s thinking.”

“Hmm.”

“But I think some jobs are negative for society, and I think Sarah’s job is negative. So even though she’s a nice person, I think she spends most of her time doing something that is negative for our society. Cause I think her company’s shit, and landlords are shit, and most of marketing is shit.”

“I don’t know about all that,” Nolan said, because he couldn’t think of anything else to say, and he didn’t want to start a big argument.

Chris smiled again. “I don’t know about it either! I’m just some fucker in a bar! But here’s the thing. Here’s what I’m thinkin’. Here’s what I’m thinking right at this moment.” Chris smiled and pointed to his temples. “I think you should try living without a cell phone.”

“What? That’s crazy.”

“Why?”

“I mean, what if I need to contact someone?”

“Well, here’s what I’ve found. There’s a million and a half people in this city, and they pretty much all have cell phones. So I just carry around this.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black book for addresses and phone numbers. “If I need to call or text, I just ask someone to borrow theirs. That’s how I told Sarah to come today. Borrowed some guy’s phone, said ‘hey, this is Chris. Gonna be playing at this bar at this time. Would be nice to see you.’ Easy.”

Nolan laughed as he pictured himself doing the same. It felt so ridiculous. “What if I get lost?”

“Same thing. Everyone has a map of the entire world in their pocket. Or you just get lost. People get lost. I feel like my sense of this city, and L.A., is so much clearer now that I’ve used paper maps and have had to figure out my way around. Like, struggling to do things, makes your mind know it better. Like, the map in my mind of these cities is so clear, and I like going around this way.”

“Hmm,” Nolan said, considering the possibility.

“Let me just say one more thing, cause I know you’re getting tired of me, and I’m getting preachy.” They both smiled. “This phone,” Chris pointed to Nolan’s phone, sitting on the table, “is such an incredible invention. I mean, it’s a technological marvel, really. It’s like everything a person could have used in, like, the eighties or whatever, condensed into a single thing. Phone, CD player, camera, map, wallet, calculator, gaming console, clock, calendar, address book, newspaper, fuckin’ taxi hailing service, anything. It’s amazing. And you think about all the great inventions in human history like the wheel and the printing press and the fuckin’… light bulb and the automobile and everything. This phone is right up there with them as far as impact and how it changed the world and advancement and all that. And some of those other ones, as a society we’re dependent upon them, right?”

“Right.”

“Like a car. You kinda need a car in most of our cities, unfortunately. And most people wouldn’t know what to do without electricity, including me. But the phone is the only one that’s really addictive on a personal level. Like, I would never just be using a light bulb for a while, then be done with it, then turn it off, then twenty seconds later just compulsively and not knowingly turn the light bulb back on. Like my hand would never just reach out without me thinking and turn the light bulb back on cause I’m addicted to light bulbs. But that’s what happens with the phone. Everyone’s done it. You’re on there, scrolling around, and then you’re like, ‘all right, I’m done,’ and then your hand just picks it back up again.”

“Yeah. I’ve done that.”

“That’s all I’m saying. You don’t want an invention to take over your own brain.”

Sarah returned and sat down, looking giddy.

“All right, what have you boys been up to?”

“Oh nothing,” Chris said, “I’m just being a bad influence,” he smiled at Nolan and they finished their beers.