Barometric Pressure

On this post-election Sunday I’m mulling over two interesting occurrences of social contact that materialized on Friday. Help me angaza; shed some light here as the historical magnitude of this election sinks in.

The day began like it was going to be a horrible, no good, very bad day. I developed a headache very early in the morning. It was slow in its emergence and persistent in its pounding. Sharon, a co-worker diagnosed it as a barometric pressure headache. According to meteorologists there was a storm on the way and sensitive folks like me are usually affected. I was inclined to trust her diagnosis as she is an experienced migraine sufferer. So I took two of the strongest stuff in the office, Back & Muscle Relief tablets.

It was close to mid-morning when the buoyant, good-looking Caucasian office services guy stopped by on a routine mail drop-off and pick-up.

“T. G. I. F!” He said cheerfully, pausing at my cubicle. Thankfully, the throbbing at my temples had somewhat subsided.

“Yes, I am ready for some R & R this weekend,” I managed feebly.

“Yeah, I’m ready to sleep in this weekend. It seems that everyone is tired this week. My girlfriend already called to warn me that she wants to sleep in tomorrow. Usually, I’m an early bird and when I wake up, I like to cuddle up to her in the mornings, but I can never touch her in the mornings. She is always tired lately. I can’t touch her.”

“Get them when you can, the cuddles.” I offered, stunned that he’d chosen to share the private bedroom details.

“Hope you have a good day,” he nodded merrily and continued on his rounds.

Now, what was that all about? What was his name again? Did I detect an untoward deference in his demeanor that is perhaps seeded in this new dawn in America? Is it what compelled him to reflexively obey his instinct that I was to be trusted, loved, respected, deferred to?

The day wore on as did the headache. On the way home I decided to make a quick stop at the grocers to pick up a couple favorite items for the weekend.

There were two cashiers in the store. One was a Caucasian lady who looked like she was in her late forties. She greeted me with a huge grin when I walked in. Her oversize white Barack Obama T-shirt caught my attention. I smiled back.

When I was ready to check out, she was attending to another customer. So the other cashier, a Hispanic gentleman took care of me. He asked me if I found everything I needed in the store, and then:

“Debit or Credit?”

“Credit,” I responded.

“I…Yes We Can.” He began, I thought.

“Excuse me?” I asked cautiously.

“I saw Yes Man.” He repeated, “with Jim Carey, it was uplifting. It was VERY uplifting.” He continued, waving both his thumbs in an upward motion.

“Oh, I have not been to the movies in a while. When did it come out?”

Truth be told, I was disappointed with his clarification. I wished instead that he’d embarked on another Yes We Can, Everything Is Possible Now, It Is A New Era type pronouncement. But I appreciated that he treated me like we were old friends because he chose to share personal thoughts about a movie that meant a lot to him.

As I walked to the car I wondered about the smiles, the uber-friendliness and the uplifting feelings floating around. Was I projecting so much joy to the world now that America had received their new leader? And now hearts are repeating the sounding joy?

Is Barack Obametric Pressure behind the blossoming of this new environment?

Whatever’s clever!

Mama Shujaa.