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getaway

His wife told him that he had to go on
vacation, that he was trying to do too
much work and it was taking a toll on him,
that he was letting wall street put too
much stress on him, that he was
neglecting his family and that he probably
just needed a break. Besides, he had time
coming to him from work and he deserved
it. So the two of them went off on a little
vacation, to a little island where
there is nothing to do, there are no
televisions, there are no telephones,
there is no civilization. “The perfect
getaway from the hustle and bustle
of every day life,” the brochure said.
And it was

They sat on the beach, just a few feet
from the outdoor bar they got their
margaritas from. It was quiet. His wife
glowed in the light of the setting sun.
He thought of wall street, and the work
he had to do. He thought of what he had
to put off doing just to go on this vacation.
What about the Erickson account? Will
he other clients notice he’s gone? Will
the company be able to get along
without him? Probably not, and he had
to sit here, without telephones or even
fax machines. He sat there, turning his
head, looking for signs of life as he knew it

He barely spoke to his wife the entire
time they were on vacation. He couldn’t
think of anything to say. All he could
think about was work, and the problems
that would probably arise because of his
absence. They finally left the resort. He
woke up the next morning in his own
bed (which was too hard), and began
to wonder if the past week was all a dream.
He quickly got dressed, poured a cup of
coffee into his car mug, tucked his
briefcase under his arm, and took off for work

He got to work early. He found stacks
of paper on his desk, and a pile of messages
on little pink slips of paper. His phone was
already ringing off the hook

His secretary walked in ten minutes later.
“Sorry about all of the work, sir,” she said

“That’s what I get for going
on vacation,” he replied

“Aren’t you glad to be back?”
she said sarcastically

“Yes, I am,”
he said with a sigh


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