P.A.Kane

     After their yoga class, Brandon, Melissa and Jodi (Southtown drivers) would drink Chai Tea and eat Organic cookies at the local Starbucks while engaging in conversation that typically revolved around late planes, nearly getting bitten by dogs and the absurdity of the dead-end sales leads they turned in every month. But, the mood on this winter night among the friends and co-workers was uncharacteristically quiet and tense until Brandon finally addressed the elephant in the room, “Melissa... Jodi... I’m just going to say it, I’m really troubled by all the Walmart.com packages we’ve been delivering lately.”     “Me too,” said Melissa crumpling her impish nose, “That offer of free two-day shipping on purchases of $35 or more is really taking off and those packages clogging up my shelves are creating such negative energy in my truck that I’ve hung extra Swarovski Crystals in the cargo area and have misted up my seats with my favorite essential oil ...

    My wife’s work stories always revolve around someone being an asshole to her and they’re always too long. Trying to provide context she feels it necessary to give a full accounting of co-workers resume and work history. Instead of something simple and straightforward like this: “I had this conference room booked for a meeting at 1pm, but this asshole, Jim from accounting, was in there eating his lunch and wouldn’t leave.”     To which I could give a simple fat free response: “Screw that guy, why can’t he eat his lunch at his desk or in the cafeteria like everyone else?”     But, no, it’s always this: “You remember Jim from accounting? He worked at HSBC for Bart Ehrman. Remember Bart, he died of exposure on a nudist beach in 1993? Then Jim came to work for us, but was a real pain in the ass because he resisted Excel and wanted to keep using WYSIWYG, do you remember him? Well, Jim slept with my friend Joyce (sleeping a...