“I can’t believe you called me,” Grant said, as we ate together at Red Lobster. It was after eight o’clock in the evening.
“Maybe there’s a blue moon outside,” I replied, as I enjoyed my blackened salmon.
“Must be. I’m still in shock, though.”
“You’ll get over it.”
“So why’d you call?” he asked as he worked his way through stuffed tilapia.
I wasn’t ready to talk about my issues—not yet. “I wanted to see a friendly face.”
“Hey,” he said, as he put his fork down. “I wanted to say again how sorry I am for going off on you this afternoon. I had no good excuse, not really.”
“We all have bad days, Grant. But if you want to talk about it, I’m all ears.” And I meant it.
He leaned back in his chair. “Really? You want to listen to workplace bullshit?”
“I’ve been in the workforce longer than
