It seems another day in Goldland: talking deals, with statuses and plans laid before everyone. The waitress was appeased with a polite smile and large tip, so I had all the time in the world to continue my focus. Industry speak only lasted so long because this time of year, this kind of place, you get to what you desire: the action.
The man across from me knew my lingo, and perhaps even more so. Conference TV contracts, polls, the lines. "That time in Laughlin, after I cashed in from the Belmont, I said what the hell, drove up there..." You'd be hard pressed to even get a glance from 99% of the bevy of beauties or oh-so-serious shades-wearing crowd with that kind of talk. But here I am, delicious meal and drink in front of me, nodding, taking it all.
Pleasantries abound, quick eye contact made around me (the kind where neither acknowledge it) and back to the subject. The World Series is over (its result continued junk shots to Dodger fans) so there is simply one mission. I've soon realized it isn't even so much about all deals happening, a victorious parlay, or even a push. It's about the deal itself. Ask anyone what's more fun: having gold or the day you find it, and the answer is as plain as the brown shades on your face.
Done there, we wander up Camden. I had little time to discuss "work" as it is, but there's always time for action. I returned to find that my surroundings were still stuck on discount costumes and planning events that, a week later, they likely won't recall. Well, carry on. I'll continue the hunt.
"I got the job done. Kind of." You know by the description alone there's a story. Go for it...
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