el crispito

I wonder when exactly Americans started to swap pleasure for productivity, permitting it to creep even into moments like this, when the excuse to hang up the phone and put the papers in the briefcase for a couple of hours was made irresistible by the alluring vistas passing just outside the window. Was it ushered in by the country having to be ever-vigilant against the insidious evils of communism? Did it give way by the financial frenzy of the 80s when time was money and everyone was clamoring to get as much of it as they could? Was it the slow realization that the systems were going to collapse and that dogs would have to eat dogs if they wanted to survive?

Along the road to a life made easier by machines and technology, when did the tide roll back and give way to an existence lousy with wireless telephone headsets and Meals-in-Minutes®? Did leisure lose its value, or did it just acquire too great an opportunity cost?

On my train today, a lawyer and his team are seated two rows ahead of me. He has been talking loudly to himself (or so his microsopic headset makes it seem) since we pulled out from the station in San Diego an hour and a half ago. In reality, he is coordinating a meeting with another lawyer, who has a court appearance at 3 pm and needs to do some work in advance of his reunion with the lawyer on the train. A matter-of-fact female associate of the lawyer suggests that the lawyer at the other end of the line have their company's limo pick him up, either downtown or in the valley, take him to their office, where they will make a room available to him so that he can complete what must be done before the meeting he has with them.

During all of that, the gentleman in the seat in front of me got up and looked about for another open seat, but returned dejected. A couple of minutes later, he asked if the lawyer wouldn't be so kind as to speak a little more quietly. In doing so, his accent gave away that he is British. Have they somehow escaped this obsession with working at any given opportunity?

A few stops later, another lawyer gets on and sits behind me. I now have lawyer stereo. The new lawyer is rattling off instructions to her assistant, ticking off points of their agenda by saying, "NEXT!" after completing each individual matter.

"...and remember that I have to get photocopies of each individual report, and then those have to be sent over to Morrison as soon as possible, okay? NEXT!"

A brief respite will follow, for which I am truly grateful. Again I can hear the soothing click-clack of the swaying train for a few brief moments before...

"I don't know why she thinks that. I have been very clear about that numerous times. Okay, well what you are going to do is to call Henry, of course, but you're also going to call Robert and have him remind Henry too. This is very important and he can't forget. He has to remember it and he has to call them as soon as possible. Then you tell Earl to send copies of those to Monogram...there's a fax, if he doesn't have his own fax, there's a fax I bought for the company and it should stay there at the office. I think he took it home, but he's not supposed to. Tell him it belongs to the company and he has to bring it back. Jack is his cousin...call Jack and have him get on Earl because they're family. I bought it for the company. He's not supposed to take that home. NEXT!"

In contrast, the older couple from the Netherlands sitting behind me, who ordered red wine as their complimentary beverage that comes with business class on Amtrak, are delighful, despite the fact that their volume has grown in proportion to the amount of wine they've consumed. They must have traveled from Florida to Las Vegas at some point, because they keep mentioning the two in succession. Since I don't know Dutch, I don't really piece together anything else they say, but whenever they say "Florida" or "Las Vegas," it sticks out like shards of glass.

For you, Jonathan, that would be "sherds."