The first time I heard the expression ‘sense of urgency,’ it was from the assistant manager at Tex-Mex joint I was bussing tables in during high school. He suggested that everyone’s evening would go a bit better if I could discover this ‘sense of urgency.’ And while I could see his point, I wondered to myself when was the last time he scraped a petrified amalgam of refried beans and cheese off a stack of plates taller than a fake saguaro cactus.
Also, for all you middle-managers out there, it is difficult to maintain a permanent sense of urgency without triggering a histamine response or hurling yourself into the abyss of apathy, from which I may not have escaped since having a 50-gallon garbage bag full of the aforementioned comestibles tear and spill all over me.
Is it a digression if you haven’t ever gotten to the point to begin with?
I was Slacking with Padraig, which is 2022 speak for corresponding with him via internet application, and he mentioned that his new mountain bike had arrived and that he was awfully close to having it fully assembled. We were in the midst of appointing a time to record The Paceline, which, when you’re on an editorial schedule, is a semi-urgent thing to do, especially when you’ve had to cancel the two previous weeks for events beyond anyone’s control.
And yet.
WHATAREWEEVENDOINGTYPINGATEACHOTHERWHENTHERESANEWBIKETORIDE?!?!
I want you to know that I love and value each of you. You are almost literally why I get out of bed in the morning (actual answer: coffee). But there are priorities that are occasionally higher than your everyday top priority, like there are perfectly good reasons to drop a baby; they just don’t come along very often.
Also, (required by legal dept) don’t drop babies.
But do probably finish assembling your brand-new mountain bike. In fact, push old ladies out of the way to do so if necessary. Cancel high risk medical screenings. Take the phone off the hook (JK, that’s not a thing). And get to the very serious business of making that bike whole and well and ready to ride.
Look, I’ve done my research and made my notes. I’m ready to record a podcast. And I know you. You’re ready to listen to all the pearls of bikey wisdom we’ve prepared for you. After all, what else are you going to listen to while your dog sniffs mailboxes and delivers his/her daily bounty of doggie effluent to be bagged and carted away still warm? You need us to get on with things.
But I told Padraig, “Forget the podcast. Get thee to the shreddery.” There are things more important than work in this life, and riding a new bike is one of them.
Things are going really well here at TCI. We have a cool bunch of contributors. We have a lot of generous subscribers. We have probably the best sponsor in the whole bike industry. Traffic numbers are up. We have dope t-shirts. If you want in on this thing, think about subscribing, or leave a tip, or buy a t-shirt. Maybe share a post with a friend (buttons below) or just leave a comment. It’s all good. It’s. All. Good.
I recall that sense of urgency I was supposed to have when I was janitor in an airport hotel the summer before I started college. Been decades. Fifty of them, to be precise. Tote those laundry bags. Clean those room air conditioners. Lug those huge chlorine tanks to neutralize the piss in the swimming pool. All so I could make ten cents over minimum wage while the owners took home the greenbacks. It made a permanent union man out of me.
But I do recall getting that Litespeed in a big box a couple years ago. Everything else in my life stopped until that baby came out of the box, off the Park Workstand, and rolled down the street.
Now, bring me a Shreddery! Ni! Ni!
Fifty years, not fifty decades, actually. This isn’t Old Testament time.
Khal – I hope you get 50 decades. I do. And I hope you’re still making Holy Grail references then, if only to confuse and bewilder the youths.