Jim

There was, as time usually dictates, a sentimental journey about to take place in the life of Jim Crenshaw, the man who invented the label for bottled vitamin water. His invention, not too specific or wise, looked appealing to the marketing specialists on the 49th floor of the building where Jim worked as a copywriter. His desk, next to the pictures laid out in the hallway of clever vintage add posters depicting a life of luxury and carefree sentiments of days gone by was the topic of one of the ad men who frequented the floor for where Jim worked for inspiration. Inspiration, not usually found on any floor of this particular building was in short and small quantities (much like the nutritional content of the vitamin water this company was looking to procure.

Finally, and without warning (as most big things either start or end) the man in the grey suit and loose yellow stripped tie came knocking on Jim's door. The man looked puzzled because for a second he looked at Jim as if he were going to burst with excitement. That moment Jim felt suddenly important and then quickly deflated. Jim looked similar to the man in the grey suit's football teammate from his college days at Cornell. Much of the conversation that followed was filled with references of some guy that Jim knew nothing about, but he listened because the man in the grey suit talked. Talking wasn't ever Jim's strong point. Jim was good at talking. He didn't like talking. Jim didn't even really know why people talked. He just knew that he had to listen because if he didn't listen, he would end up being forced to talk and again, Jim didn't like talking. So therefore and in summation, Jim fell into a category of being "a listener."

"Sometimes listeners," thought Jim "are thought to be introspective." And Jim didn't like that stereotype. Because to Jim, everyone was introspective, insomuch as they allowed themselves a time and space to communicate. Either outward or inward.

"Jim" said the man in the grey suit "let's go for a drink. You drink don't you?"

"Yes" said Jim.

"And where do you usually go, Jim cause I just like that old cheap bar down the street. Full of more real people. Ya know?"

The man continued to babble and Jim continued to listen to him.

They walked and Jim listened with an added "yes" and "I see." Phrases he picked up from some of his courses at the community resource center where he volunteered to scan membership cards. While at the community resource center he and the other volunteers were asked to participate in a training on "effective listening." Something Jim thought was humorous because either you're listening or you are not. And if you are then there's no need to but in with an intermittent "I see" if the person is doing just fine talking. And then if you throw in a phrase here and there, aren't you then in turn not listening but talking? Paradoxical, nonetheless, but humorous to Jim altogether.

The man in the grey suit said something after a couple of beers that Jim couldn't help but question. The man in the grey suit said "I'm beginning to think that the world isn't so much a world as it is a picture."

And Jim thought about that in a way that he didn't think about most things. Jim saw in his head a big photograph hanging in the universe filled with some Monet like dots and Vangogh swirls. Lots of green and textured strokes of twinkling white rivets along the outer ridges of the painting. The frame gold, and think; heavy with a pattern reminiscent of a baroque style adornment hanging along the edges of a ceiling painted in pink and blue.

The money Jim paid for his beer ended up being a $5 bill from his wallet after Jim said "you pay the tip, Jim."

Jim didn't have any other cash on him and felt it awkward to have the waitress charge his debit card for a tip. Feeling slightly embarrassed about leaving a $5 tip, Jim...