LJ Idol: Week One
I walked into the kitchen carrying a beet.
“What…why are you still carrying around that beet with you?”
“Look, go ahead and call me crazy, but I think I could use all the good vibes I can get right now.” I set the beet down on the table and turned to the fridge where I pulled out the carton of milk for my morning bowl of cereal.
“You didn’t…sleep with the beet did you?”
“What? No, no. Don’t be silly. I just put it on the dresser,” I said matter of factly. She groaned and probably rolled her eyes too had I been able to see them. Instead she was fighting with a bagel that had been lodged in the toaster.
“You’ll get the job,” she said. “You don’t need a beet for that. You were probably the most qualified person who applied.”
“I just want this job, you know? So sue me for playing it safe!”
The phone rang. We both looked at each other.
“Was he going to call this early?” she asked.
“Well, he said it’d be in the morning.”
“Answer it!” she yelled to me. “Answer the damn phone!”
I rolled from the chair and bounded across the kitchen to my cell phone. They were some pretty impressive moves, if I do say so myself. The kind of moves I don’t think I’d ever be able to replicate if I tried.
“Hello!” I practically hollered into the phone. I could see her moving her hands in a way to signal that I need to tone my voice down a little bit. “Er, hello, rather.”
“Good morning. This is Mr. Prett from BizCo.”
“Yes! Good to hear from you, Mr. Prett. I was looking forward to hearing from you.”
“Yes, Well, I’m sorry to break this news to you, but the corporate office has decided to move in a different direction and won’t be moving forward with you. I’m very sorry.”
“Well…okay. I do appreciate you letting me know.”
“Of course. You do have a good day now.”
I hung up my cell phone and calmly placed it down. I could tell that she was unsure of what to make of that conversation. In her mind, I was probably feigning disappointment just to surprise her with the news that I got the job.
Without saying a word, I walked over the kitchen table, and picked up the beet. I wondered for a moment, what a raw beet tasted like. I figured it didn’t matter. I turned and threw it into the living room.
“Fuck you, you stupid beet!”
“So, I guess you didn’t get the job?”
“Nah. Whatever.” I sat back down at the table and went back to getting my cereal together. She didn’t say another word about it and returned to her bagel.
“So, what was the beet thing about, again?” she asked finally.
“Huh?”
“The beet. Why were you carrying around a beet for the past week?”
“Ah, it’s one of those old wives tales, I guess. My grandmother was one of the luckiest people alive, you know? I was just following her advice.”
“You mean your mom’s mom?”
“Yeah.”
“I thought she died.”
“Oh, well, yeah. But she wrote me a letter from the hospital before she died. And there was all this inspiring advice, and at the very bottom, in quotations, it said: “When you pray, move your beet.”
“What?”
“Look, it didn’t make any sense to me either. But I figured that was the secret to her luck, you know?”
“I don’t think that’s how the saying goes…”
“No, I don’t think it’s a saying. It’s just one of those things you figure out in life. Carrying around a beet equals good luck. I don’t know how she figured that out, but good for her. You know what? Maybe a beet is what worked for her. Maybe I need to find my beet.”
“I don’t think…”
“I just need to start carrying around random things, you know? One of these days I’ll figure it out, by the time I’m old. Then, on my deathbed I can say to my kids: ‘Hey, when you pray, move your lettuce.’ Then I’ll die and they’ll have to figure out what the hell I was talking about.”
“Yeah, okay,” she said, sighing. She sat back down at the table and began eating her bagel.
I missed out on this job, but at least I learned something truly useful today. I need to find my beet in life and move it.
“What…why are you still carrying around that beet with you?”
“Look, go ahead and call me crazy, but I think I could use all the good vibes I can get right now.” I set the beet down on the table and turned to the fridge where I pulled out the carton of milk for my morning bowl of cereal.
“You didn’t…sleep with the beet did you?”
“What? No, no. Don’t be silly. I just put it on the dresser,” I said matter of factly. She groaned and probably rolled her eyes too had I been able to see them. Instead she was fighting with a bagel that had been lodged in the toaster.
“You’ll get the job,” she said. “You don’t need a beet for that. You were probably the most qualified person who applied.”
“I just want this job, you know? So sue me for playing it safe!”
The phone rang. We both looked at each other.
“Was he going to call this early?” she asked.
“Well, he said it’d be in the morning.”
“Answer it!” she yelled to me. “Answer the damn phone!”
I rolled from the chair and bounded across the kitchen to my cell phone. They were some pretty impressive moves, if I do say so myself. The kind of moves I don’t think I’d ever be able to replicate if I tried.
“Hello!” I practically hollered into the phone. I could see her moving her hands in a way to signal that I need to tone my voice down a little bit. “Er, hello, rather.”
“Good morning. This is Mr. Prett from BizCo.”
“Yes! Good to hear from you, Mr. Prett. I was looking forward to hearing from you.”
“Yes, Well, I’m sorry to break this news to you, but the corporate office has decided to move in a different direction and won’t be moving forward with you. I’m very sorry.”
“Well…okay. I do appreciate you letting me know.”
“Of course. You do have a good day now.”
I hung up my cell phone and calmly placed it down. I could tell that she was unsure of what to make of that conversation. In her mind, I was probably feigning disappointment just to surprise her with the news that I got the job.
Without saying a word, I walked over the kitchen table, and picked up the beet. I wondered for a moment, what a raw beet tasted like. I figured it didn’t matter. I turned and threw it into the living room.
“Fuck you, you stupid beet!”
“So, I guess you didn’t get the job?”
“Nah. Whatever.” I sat back down at the table and went back to getting my cereal together. She didn’t say another word about it and returned to her bagel.
“So, what was the beet thing about, again?” she asked finally.
“Huh?”
“The beet. Why were you carrying around a beet for the past week?”
“Ah, it’s one of those old wives tales, I guess. My grandmother was one of the luckiest people alive, you know? I was just following her advice.”
“You mean your mom’s mom?”
“Yeah.”
“I thought she died.”
“Oh, well, yeah. But she wrote me a letter from the hospital before she died. And there was all this inspiring advice, and at the very bottom, in quotations, it said: “When you pray, move your beet.”
“What?”
“Look, it didn’t make any sense to me either. But I figured that was the secret to her luck, you know?”
“I don’t think that’s how the saying goes…”
“No, I don’t think it’s a saying. It’s just one of those things you figure out in life. Carrying around a beet equals good luck. I don’t know how she figured that out, but good for her. You know what? Maybe a beet is what worked for her. Maybe I need to find my beet.”
“I don’t think…”
“I just need to start carrying around random things, you know? One of these days I’ll figure it out, by the time I’m old. Then, on my deathbed I can say to my kids: ‘Hey, when you pray, move your lettuce.’ Then I’ll die and they’ll have to figure out what the hell I was talking about.”
“Yeah, okay,” she said, sighing. She sat back down at the table and began eating her bagel.
I missed out on this job, but at least I learned something truly useful today. I need to find my beet in life and move it.