Last updated on September 17, 2025
Loosening his tie, Charles yanked the silk knot free as he collapsed into the worn leather armchair, his second bourbon already half-empty. “So there I was, explaining to the client why their timeline expectations resemble a fantasy novel, when the project sponsor,” he paused, took a long sip, shook his head in disbelief, “get this, asks me if I’ve considered ‘thinking outside the box.’” He let out a bitter laugh, swirling the amber liquid deliberately “Eight years. Eight years of delivering impossible projects on time, and he wants me to think outside the box.”
With obvious relief to find the end of her week, Ashlyn kicked off her heels and curled her legs beneath her on the opposite chair. “Outside the box?” She snorted and then gestured wildly with her wine glass nearly toppling. “Oh honey, you haven’t lived, I mean you HAVEN’T LIVED, until you’ve had a client explain why they can’t pay their ninety day overdue invoice because Mercury is in retrograde.”
“Wait, wait.” Holding up her hand mid-sip, Bavia paused with her olive poised precariously on the rim. “Charles, didn’t you once tell me,” she stopped, squinted at him, “you literally created the project management framework used in your office?”
Charles’s laughed dryly. “The very same framework.” His voice dropped. “They now quote the specs I created when I suggest we might need to adjust scope for reality.”
Her scrubs-flattened and hair finally freed from its ponytail, Bavia shook her head slowly. “The irony suffocates me.” She set down her glass. “Speaking of suffocating irony, yesterday I spent my entire twelve hour shift explaining to doctors why their quick five minute procedures backed up the OR schedule by three hours.”
“No.” Widening her eyes in mock horror, Ashlyn leaned forward.
“Oh yes.” Bavia’s theatrically despaired. “Twelve hours. Andthe chief of surgery audacciously asked me,” she dramatically paused fo effect, “why we can’t just ‘streamline patient flow’ like we’re running a fast food drive thru.” Her laugh echoed off the ceiling. “I wanted to suggest he try performing surgery while I stand over his shoulder demanding he hurry.”
The door chimed as Andy stumbled through, literally stumbled, caught himself on the doorframe, his budget suit wrinkled, and his portfolio case dragging behind him like a reluctant pet. “Sorry, sorry,” he waved his free hand frantically, “showing properties all day to clients demanding open agency parks every listing with rooms full of realtors feverishly wagging their tails for the commission when monetary policy is tight.”
“Ashlyn just told us about Mercury being in retrograde,” Charles called out, raising his glass in greeting.
Andy glanced around uncertainly before collapsing into the remaining chair with an audible groan. A theatrical groan. The kind of groan that came from somewhere deep in the soul. “Oh God, clients. Don’t get me started on clients.”
Conspiratorially, Ashlyn leaned forward and dropped her voice to a stage whisper. “Andy?” she paused, clearly trying to place him, “Your Andy now? I think Krishna mentioned you work in real estate?”
“I do.” Flagging down the bartender with a weary wave, Andy gestured like a desert dehydrated traveler “Beer. The cheap kind. The kind that matches my commission check from the past thirty days.” He paused. Looked around the table. “Which is to say, nonexistent.”
Wincing sympathetically, Krishna studied his face. “Still nothing?”
“Worse than nothing.” Accepting his beer with the reverence of a man who’d counted every dollar twice, Andy settled back. “This morning, I had a couple, lovely people, pre-approved for half a million, who fell in love with a property.” He took a long sip. Closed his eyes. “They were ready to make an offer. Had their checkbook out. Literally out and open on my clipboard.”
“What happened?” Though his tone suggested he already dreaded the answer, Charles asked anyway.
“The husband,” Andy’s voice cracked slightly, “asked if I could throw in my commission as a ‘buyer incentive’ to sweeten the deal.”
Creasing his forehead in genuine confusion, Charles stared at him. “What does that even mean? Throw in your commission?”
“I have no earthly idea.” Taking a long sip, Andy finally let his shoulders relax. “But apparently, it involves me working for free to help them save money on the biggest purchase of their lives.” Pausing, he stared at his beer. “Because nothing says professional service like asking someone to work for free.
Ashlyn considered it. “You know what’s fascinating about this? We’re all sitting here, drowning in the absurdity of our respective industries, but Andy,” she hesitated, still clearly not entirely sure about his background, “what did you do before real estate?”
Pain and pride warred in Andy’s smile. “Insurance sales. A top performer rlin the early years, but the digital revolution is drying up everything, residuals included.”
“Homes will always need a voice to personify their value.” Arching her eyebrows toward her hairline, Krishna shook her head, “can you still be folksy when helping clients envision value?”
Raising his beer in a mock toast, Andy met their eyes. “As long as the market doesn’t take a coffee break.”
Raising his bourbon in response, Charles nodded grimly. “To being overqualified for a world that pays by luck instead of skill.”
“Here, here,” the others chorused, their glasses meeting in the center of their small circle.
Settling deeper into his chair, Andy felt the week’s tension febb from his shoulder “So Ashlyn, Bavia mentioned you were in the middle of some story about Mercury retrograde when I arrived? Something that had everyone laughing?”
Ashlyn glowered. She straightened in her chair, transforming from exhausted accounts receivable specialist to master storyteller. “Oh, this is good. This is really,” she grinned wryly , “really good.” She finished her wine with a flair to build suspense. “So yesterday, YESTERDAY, I get a call from a client whose account is four months overdue, right? Four months. Sixteen thousand dollars.”
Amused, “Uh oh,” , Bavia responded.
“Right? So I’m thinking,” gesturing expansively, Ashlyn nearly knocked over her glass, caught it at the last second, “maybe they’re calling to arrange a payment plan, discuss terms, you know, act like responsible adults.” She paused. Leaned forward. “No. It is much better.”
Intrigued, Charles leaned forward, “Better how?”
“They’re calling to complain,” rising incredulously, Ashlyn’s voice climbed an octave, “that our invoices are disrupting their chakras.” Another pause. Longer this time. “Their chakras, they said, couldn’t process the ‘negative energy’ of past due notices.”
Nearly choking on his beer, Andy spattered. “Chakras?”
“EXACTLY!” Ashlyn struck the table hard enough with her palms to grab the entire room’s attention. “So this woman, this crystal healing, essential oil diffusing entrepreneur who owes us more than most people make in three months, explains to me with complete sincerity that Mercury being in retrograde makes it ‘cosmically inappropriate’ to process financial transactions.”
Dropping her jaw in theatrical shock, Bavia stared. “They didn’t.”
“They did.” Her voice rising an octave in mock incredulity, Ashlyn threw her hands up. “So I looked her dead in the eye and said, ‘Are you suggesting your spiritual beliefs exempt you from contractual obligations?’”
Already laughing, Charles felt his shoulders shake. “What did they say?”
Exasperated, “Nothing! Absolutely nothing!” Ashlyn paced behind her chair. “They just stared at me like I’d become pestilence. So I opened my computer, right there on the phone, and walked them through their payment history.”
Standing up suddenly, she reenacted the scene with theatrical precision. “January: thirty days late, blamed it on ‘adjusting to new energy patterns.’ February: sixty days late, said their accountant was ‘realigning their financial aura.’ March: ninety days late because apparently tax season interferes with their meditation practice.”
“Wait,” furrowing his brow in confusion, Andy interrupted. “This same client, did they have other bills they were paying on time?”
Spinning around triumphantly, Ashlyn pointed at him. “Aha! See, this is where it gets beautiful. I pulled their credit report, with permission, of course, and guess what? Perfect payment history everywhere except with us.”
“Of course they did,” delivering her line with perfect dryness, Bavia observed.
“But here’s the kicker.” Returning to her chair conspiratorially, Ashlyn leaned forward. “After I finished walking them through their entire payment history, every excuse, every delay, every cosmic justification, they realized I wasn’t buying the astrology angle.”
Nearly spilling his bourbon, Charles shook his head. “You’re kidding.”
“Scout’s honor.” Holding up three fingers solemnly, Ashlyn continued. “The woman gets all flustered and starts mumbling about how maybe Mercury wasn’t as retrograde as she thought. Then, and this is my favorite part, she asks if we accept payment plans because her cash flow is ‘temporarily misaligned with her business cycle.’”
Raising her martini high, Bavia toasted. “To Ashlyn, the woman who makes chakras bend to accounting principles.”
“You know what the really tragic part is?” Settling back into her chair with sudden weariness, Ashlyn looked tired again. “That same client called me this morning to ask if I could ‘teach her bookkeeper how to be more spiritually aligned with financial responsibility.’”
“More spiritually aligned than what?” Asking with genuine bewilderment, Charles continued, “More spiritually aligned than basic arithmetic?”
“Apparently.” Shrugging, Ashlyn sighed, as her second glass of wine arrived. “Because nothing says ‘enlightenment’ like explaining to someone three times your age why numbers don’t change based on planetary positions.”
Shaking his head slowly, Andy considered this. “The beautiful irony being that if they actually paid their bills on time instead of consulting star charts, they might learn something about real responsibility.”
“But that would require admitting that Mercury doesn’t control their bank account,” swirling her olive around her glass thoughtfully, Bavia observed. “And we can’t have that.”
Extending his drink into the air above the center od tbe table inrenewed purpose, Charles declared, “To the beautiful futility of being rational in a world that prefers fantasy.”
“Hear, hear,” they chorused in genuine solidarity beneath the night’s sarcssm.
“You know what we should do?” Brightening suddenly with a new idea, Ashlyn’s eyes sparked.
“Please tell me it doesn’t involve more astrology,” groaning dramatically, Andy shook his head.
“Better.” Mischievously leaning back in her chair, Ashlyn continued. “We should start our own business. The four of us. Think about it, Charles’s project management expertise, my collection skills, Krishna’s healthcare experience, Andy’s sales background.”
Pausing mid-sip in consideration, Bavia studied the group. “That’s actually not a terrible idea.”
“It’s a terrible idea,” saying this immediately but with thoughtful rather than dismissive tone, Charles continued, “Which is exactly why it might work.”
Looking around the table uncertainly, Andy voiced his confusion. “What would we even call ourselves? ‘Professionals Who Actually Know What They’re Doing, LLC’?”
“I was thinking something more subtle,” replying with measured consideration, Ashlyn suggested, “Like ‘Practical Solutions’ or ‘Reality Based Consulting.’”
“Boring,” declaring this with absolute certainty, Bavia continued. “We need something that captures the essence our talents. Something like ‘ Collective Competence.’”
Sneakily eavesdropping beneath a new color, Aundy shouted , “I had planned to expand my salon into adjoing commercial space to add more chairs and services, but I like this vibe.”
Chuffed with pride, Charles observed, “Professional. Very professional.”
“Fine,” conceding with a wave of her hand, Bavia pressed on. “I’m serious too. We could actually do it. Pool our skills, our experience, our collective ability to deal with impossible people.”
“And our collective experience being undervalued by those same impossible people,” adding this with growing enthusiasm, Ashlyn nodded.
“Exactly!” Bavia continued infectiously, “We are seasoned problem solvers. It is time to be rewarded for the fixing the messes of others.”
Sitting quietly, Andy, after weighing whether to voice what he was thinking. offered, “Maybe it’s time to stop letting other people benefit from our competence while we get paid in cosmic excuses and commission free handshakes.”
“Maybe it’s time to stop being the invisible professionals who keep everything running,” agreeing while studying Andy with new interest, Charles nodded.
They drew together contemplatively, ech tossed by possibilities and risks. For Charles and Ashlyn, there was an added layer of uncertainty, the strange intimacy of considering a business partnership with someone they’d just met.
“Monday,” Ashlyn broke the determining silence. “Monday we will see who’s interested in hiring people who solve problems instead of creating them.”
“Monday,” raising their glasses, they agreed.
