volume 14 number 2
by Marc Berman
What I miss is selecting cufflinks at 4:00 a.m., weighing the effect of each silk tie on the deals to come, checking my supply of collar stays before zipping the suitcase, kissing my wife, leaving for the airport before dawn.
What I miss is the bowl of tart green apples piled high and complimentary on the concierge desk of my hotel in Des Moines. Then the evening meal with a client; the small talk, the veal chop, the dreamy red wine.
What I miss are oval conference tables. My managers, assistants, warm donuts within reach. Wagging sales teams waiting for me to toss them juicy ideas to make more money.
What I miss is closing my eyes over Ohio; still, helpless airline sleep. The waking, descending over the Berkshires; the ties, the stays, cufflinks in my pocket, drifting closer to home.