Where I Was

The work day did not start out like most others. It was to be a bit more involved.

I was at my office early, to gather up some co-workers and our presentation materials. The team had been preparing for a couple of weeks for this important introduction of our company to a new, big potential customer.

We scurried around the office, knowing that we had to be on the road by a certain time in order to make our appointment across town. You do not want to be late for something this important. The customer was bringing in the “big guns” to listen to our pitch.

We jumped in the van, and sped down the freeway, hoping that most of the cops were still bellied-up to a donut somewhere. We rehearsed our individual segments of the presentation and got psyched.

We pulled into the parking lot with a good 10 minutes to spare. Not bad considering the trip all the way across town in the extremely unpredictable morning rush. The receptionist buzzed us in and showed us to the big conference room, understanding that we needed some set up time for the computer and the projection equipment.

Ties straightened. Computer ready and idling. Notes neatly set in front of us. A big clock on the wall ticking up to the exact start time.

But then it ticked past the start time. Not to worry. That’s what big guns do to you sometimes. They have so many headaches, and their time is very valuable. Oddly, they forget that your time can be valuable too. But they’re the customer. You cut them slack.

More time ticked by. We were alone in the room. No customer with us and not even the receptionist poking her head in to apologize for the big guns. Then more time. At roughly the twenty minute-late mark, we were starting to get angry. If they treat us this way now, what will our business relationship be like? Very unprofessional. We had this meeting set for two weeks. Downright rude.

More time ticked by. This is absurd.

Then the receptionist reappeared. Only she looked almost like a different woman. Her nice tan had almost faded to white. Her sunny disposition was gone. Had she been crying? She was visibly upset about something.

Then she told us as calmly as she could, but voice shaking, an unbelievable story about jets crashing into the World Trade Center. Not one, as in accidently, but two. Both towers in flames. She didn’t invite us back to the one television they had in the building. “No”, she advised, this big company had an emergency procedure, sort of a lock-down thing, and the building would have to be closed immediately. We needed to leave.

We gathered up our equipment I guess, because honest to God, I don’t remember doing it. Then we went out to the van and turned on the radio. What followed was four men, sitting in the van, hanging on every word coming out of the speakers. Very little talk as I remember, except “How?” and “Why?”.

Four men, punched in the gut, some red eyes, and speechless for the most part.

I started the engine and we drove out, all of us on cell phones trying to contact wives. Not really sure what to do next except to head back to the office and get our own cars and head home to loved ones who had suddenly become a hundred times more important than our big presentation.

I don’t really even remember the drive back. So tuned my senses were to the radio, I guess.

I remember September 11, 2001. Like we all do. How it spun our priorities so fast we didn’t even think of it. But it doesn’t take long for priorities to again realign themselves to much lesser causes, does it? Even the best of us must have an anniversary and acknowledgement of an event like this, just so we can think about proper alignment, let alone really live our lives that way. So let’s carry on, but never forget. Never.