Since the beginning of the pandemic, my husband, who is a program-scheduling manager for software and hardware engineers, has been working from home. He kicks back on the huge green recliner in our bedroom with his laptop on his lap and a second bigger monitor on a stool in front of him. When he works, it does not look like work. Sometimes it sounds like work since he frequently has phone and Zoom meetings where he’s talking and typing away. It’s been great. We’ve been having lunch together almost every day.
A few days ago at lunchtime, he seemed stressed and was eating quickly. It was around 12:50 PM.
“I have two meetings that start at one,” he explained.
“How are you going to manage that?” I figured it was obvious he’d have to choose between the two meetings. He’d probably have to call in for the more important meeting first. Perhaps he’d switch off between the two. “Which meeting are you going to first?” I asked.
“I’ll go to the first meeting first. Then, I’ll go to the second meeting...first,” he said. He didn't explain.
My daughter and I laughed. Later, when she and I were on a walk, we discussed how the only way he could possibly go to both meetings first was if he was secretly a time traveler.
Later, at dinner, we asked him, “So, how did it work out with your meetings? What did you end up doing? Unless you’re a time traveler, you couldn’t really have gone to both meetings first.”
He laughed. “No,” he said, “I was just kidding when I said that. What I really did was...I went to the first meeting first. Then, I went to the second meeting...first.” He said it so seriously. Somehow it seemed he wasn’t joking. We all laughed anyway.
He never did admit how he worked that out.
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