A Tickle, a Snake, and a Zoom Call

Sometimes I like to take my work calls while walking around the neighborhood. There’s a long patch of dirt at the end of my block where I have a view of the ocean in the distance and the canyon just below. Beyond the dirt patch is a steep drop into the ravine, with bushes, vines, and the scary things that lie within—cascading down the hillside to the canyon floor. 

 

When I go on my walking work calls, I like to stand on this dirt patch and stare out in to the sun-kissed expanse of hills and ocean. With the bewitching sounds of waves in the distance, it doesn’t matter what’s being requested of me on these calls–everything is wonderful, and everything is possible.

“Roy, we’re going to need 100 referenceable customers by the end of the month and we need them to each agree to a 30-minute market analyst call.” “Absolutely, that can be done,” I’ll respond, as my soul leaves my body and begins its ascent to a higher plane. When I return to my one-bedroom apartment and reality sets in, I realize what I’ve just agreed to will doom my week to pain and endless labor.

 

But last week, as I stood above the ravine, letting the reflection of the sun off the ripples in the sea hypnotize me, something happened. As I stared out into the canyon, listening to an impassioned coworker preach about the importance of synergies between business units or something like that on a Zoom call, I felt a tickle on my leg. 

 

How magical, I thought. The wind, a playful sprite, dances on my skin! I smiled. Then, I heard a shuffling sound. 

 

The gentle breath of the wild, blowing upon the dirt beneath my feet. How glorious!

 

I looked down in hopes of seeing the dirt doing something swirly or artsy to match my poetic mood. Instead, I saw a nightmare-inducing, anaconda-esque, fang-y grey snake standing erect about six inches from my left leg. I let out a primal screech and stumbled backwards across the dirt. The snake appeared to slither in my direction, so I let out a more guttural shriek—the kind you hear a man facing inevitable death or dismemberment let out. I kicked at the dirt, then slammed my phone and my jacket on the ground to scare the snake away. I sprinted home, screamed at myself in the mirror for a while, put on two pairs of long pants, then walked back to gather my belongings.  

I spent a couple minutes analyzing the dirt patch for any signs of snake, then picked my phone up off the floor and dusted it off.

“Well, looks like we’re at time!” said the voice on the Zoom call. “Roy, do you have any questions? I know we’re putting a ton on your plate.” 

I stared down in to the ravine, and noticed the wildflowers were starting to bloom, and that there was a cloud of pollen swirling across the top of the birds of paradise.

“Yeah…I can do all of that,” I responded.