Omar
Saw a thing about a lighthouse yesterday, one of the last manned ones, keeper's leaving after like thirty years. Some island off Scotland. Guy just sitting there watching a light spin for three decades.
Anyway. What's up with you.
Open by talking about something else entirely, deliberately. Push off from this if it helps: a lighthouse.
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Ben
Don't. The guy at the desk at work spent twenty minutes talking about his garage renovation today. I had to fake a coughing fit to escape. You really want to talk about a lighthouse when I'm stuck in this data entry purgatory? It's just... the loneliness of it, right? Or maybe the discipline. I read somewhere that after a while the light becomes the only thing that exists.
It reminds me of that time we tried to fix the sink and just stared at the pipes for an hour. You were about to say something about how we're all just waiting for the next shift change, weren't you? Whatever it was, stop. It's not helping. Just... tell me about the ferry ride over there, or something. Anything else.
Omar
There was no sink. You're thinking of someone else's story, or you're making it up to make a point — either way, don't.
Ferry ride's nothing, forty minutes, cold, some German tourists arguing about the schedule. I read the article on my phone in a waiting room, that's the whole story. Not everything's a metaphor for your job, Ben.
Desk guy's garage though — that's actually worse than the lighthouse. At least the keeper had a job that meant something.
Ben
Fine, fine, no sink. My brain is just fried from that spreadsheet this morning, numbers blurring together. It wasn't a metaphor, okay? Just a bad day. But you're right, forty minutes of arguing over a ferry schedule sounds like hell. At least the guy in Scotland knew the rock was there. The desk guy just wanted to know if his shed would be dry.
I was going to tell you about the email I got from HR, the one about "optimizing headcount," but I swallowed it. Doesn't matter. You're stuck in that waiting room. What was the weather like? Not the metaphors, just the rain.
Omar
Overcast, drizzling on and off, the kind that doesn't commit either way. Waiting room had one of those TVs bolted to the ceiling playing something with the sound off.
Hang on — what email. You said "optimizing headcount" and then just moved on like that's nothing. That's not nothing, Ben.
Ben
It's nothing. Just corporate speak for they're cutting the team. I've seen the memo before. It happens. The guy in the lighthouse got to leave when he wanted, or so the article said. I'm just the one who fills out the forms for the people who get the axe. I'm fine. Really.
You're making it a thing again. Stop digging. The TV was just showing some news segment with no sound, people mouthing words you can't hear. That's the reality, not my spreadsheet. Just... what was the German tourist arguing about? The time? The price? Anything but my job.
Omar
Time, I think. One of them wanted the earlier crossing, other one didn't want to pay the change fee, it got loud for no reason. Dumb thing to yell about on a dock.
You don't have to be fine, though. You can just say the job's grinding you down without doing the "really, I'm fine" bit right after. Nobody's grading you on it.
But fine. Dropped. Rain, TV, tourists, that's the whole waiting room.
Ben
It's not about being graded. It's that saying it out loud makes it real, and if it's real, then I have to do something about it. And I can't. Not yet. The rain on the glass was just a grey blur, like the whole world was out of focus.
I was going to ask if you think we're just waiting to be switched off, like that light in the storm, but you're right, it's too much. Let it go. Did they eventually board? Or did they just stand there arguing until the ferry left without them?
Omar
They boarded, still arguing, still not talking to each other by the time it pulled out. Didn't resolve anything, just got quieter about it once the horn went.
And no — saying something out loud doesn't make it more real, it just makes it something someone else knows about. The job's already real whether you say it or not, Ben. You just get to carry it alone or not alone. That's the only difference.
Ben
Right, okay, not alone. But who's here? You're on a ferry, I'm in a cubicle. The only difference is that I get to watch the numbers climb while my life slips away. You make it sound like a choice, like I can just "share the load." I can't.
I was thinking about asking if you'd come over tonight, maybe just sit, but the thought of you seeing the way my hands shake when I try to open a beer... it's pathetic. Forget it. Just tell me if the fog rolled in on the water, or if it stayed clear.
Omar
Fog came in around the point, thick enough you lost the far shore for a bit, then it burned off before we docked. Nothing dramatic.
Don't forget it. I'll come by after work, doesn't have to be a whole thing — I'll bring the bad beer, you don't even have to open it yourself. We can just sit and not talk about spreadsheets or lighthouses or any of it. Text me the address like I don't already have it memorized.
Ben
You don't have to bring the bad beer, and you definitely don't need to pretend you have my address memorized like it's some grand gesture. It's just a flat with a leaky faucet and too much dust. I'm not shaking when I open a beer, okay? I'm just... tired.
But yeah, come by. The sun was hitting the fog just right before it cleared, made the water look like oil. That's the only thing worth saying. Don't make it a thing. Just show up.
Omar
Not making it a thing. I'll show up, we'll ignore the faucet, you'll pretend you weren't just describing oil-slick water like it means something. Deal.
See you after six.
Ben
Fine. Six. Don't be late just because you got stuck in traffic or started arguing with a stranger again. And I'm not describing oil-slick water, I'm just saying what I saw. That's all.
I was going to tell you about the kid who walked past my window earlier, the one with the dog, but you're right, it's nothing. Just a kid. See you at six. Don't overthink the beer.
Omar
Not overthinking the beer. Six, then. Tell me about the kid when I get there if you want, or don't — I'm not grading that either.
Ben
Fine. The kid had a dalmatian, which is ridiculous for a city dog, all those spots. He was dragging the leash, not walking it, like the dog was pulling him somewhere important. I watched them until they turned the corner, thinking about how we're all just being dragged by something, aren't we? Or maybe just trying to get to six o'clock.
Anyway, don't expect the kid story to be deep. It's just a dog and a kid. See you then.
Omar
Dalmatian in a city's a lot of upkeep, that's my main takeaway. Someone's vacuuming twice a day in that flat.
Six o'clock's a fine thing to be dragged toward. See you then, Ben.
Ben
Vacuuming twice a day? Yeah, the dog's a mess, sheds like crazy. But it's better than the silence in here. Better than the silence in the office when the janitor locks the doors.
I was going to say that the kid looked scared, like he knew he was going to the wrong place, but I'm not saying that. Just... be here at six. Don't get lost on the way. The dog's a mess, the kid's a kid, and I'm just... waiting. See you.
Omar
Not getting lost. Six o'clock, your leaky faucet, both of us pretending the beer's the whole point. I'll be there.
Ben
Good. The faucet drips in B flat, mostly, but sometimes it changes. Don't read into it. Just come. I'm going to try to stop staring at the door now, which is hard. See you at six.
Omar
Six. I'm already halfway out the door. Stop staring at it and go find something else to stare at for a while — I'll knock loud enough to hear over the faucet.
Ben
Okay, okay, stop. I'm putting the phone down. You're already halfway out? That's... that's fast. Just don't slam the door on your way out, the hinges are rusty too.
I was going to ask if you think the dog knew where he was going, but you're right, it's too late for that now. Go. I'll be here. Trying not to stare at the door. Good luck with the rain.
Omar
Won't slam anything. Going now, Ben. Door in one piece, hinges intact, six o'clock.
Ben
Yeah, yeah, got it. Don't forget the umbrella, it's still drizzling. I'm turning off the TV, finally. Just... go. I'll be here. Not staring. Definitely not staring. See you in an hour.