Why, hello there. You're September, right? Yeah, I remember meeting you at a party once last year. I was a little out of it at the time, though, so pardon me if I seemed distant. I was really focused on taking stock of my life; I was considering what had gone wrong over the previous months, where I currently stood in the grand scheme of things, and which of my new friends were going to stick around long enough to escort me back to relevance. Turned out the answer was "none of them." None of my new friends from last year were going to be there for me this year. Not Jemile, not Allen, not Hammer, not Scotty. The entire disappointing year was a colossal waste of time.
You seem different these days, September. I guess you're the same, and it's me who is different. You see, I've really turned things around. I've made all new friends. Tommy, Jarrod, Yoenis and Jonny, the Joshes, a bevy of Brandons; the list is so long that I can't even name them all in one breath. We dance together, celebrate together, watch fireworks nearly every night, and even when they walk off, I know that they'll be back the next day. That's the thing about real friends. They're always there for you.
Sure, there have been tough times. When we found out that Bart was spiking his Butterfingers, we took the news pretty hard. When Kurt got transferred to a new office out-of-state, we felt like we'd lost a brother. But you know what? Everyone picked up a little slack, some more new friends came through, and the beat carried on. We found out that the reason that we fall is so that we can learn to pick ourselves back up, and pick ourselves up we did.
And now, here we are again. It's been 11 months since you last saw me, passing out on the bench while I waited for the taxi to come whisk me away from that disaster of an evening. I apologize if I said anything rude to you, September. I really wasn't myself. But, look at me now! I've got a new lease on life, and my success has only been bettered by four other offices: Texas, New York, Washington, and Cincinnati. I'm even in a dead heat with my cross-town rivals, and no one would have given me a chance to do that a few months ago. That's the nice thing about being the dark horse, the underdog, the guy who's been written off. When you succeed against all odds, it's that much sweeter.
Seeing you around these parts, September, means two things to me. It means that the stretch run has arrived, and it's time to bear down and take care of business. It also means that reinforcements can start leaking in, and right on cue, four of my new friends are re-joining the party today: A.J., Collin, and a pair of Brandons. Donnie had to go home sick yesterday, but it's ok; these days, around these parts, there's always someone else to pick you up when you need it. We called Binger, and even though he wasn't supposed to work today, he's going to come in early to cover the shift. There may not be an "I" in "team," but there is most certainly an "A."
So, it's nice to see you again September, but you'll pardon me if I don't have time to chat. There's work to do. To be honest, I've been dreaming about you all summer, waiting for this day, hoping that my personal rebirth would be complete in time for you to notice me. Not only is it complete, though, it has progressed far beyond my expectations, even beyond what I would have considered reasonable. I've come so far that I can't help but look past you, September. I'm no longer excited just to see you again, just to be in the same room with you and your important friends. I'm no longer satisfied just to be here. I want more now.
I want more, and I just saw October walk into the room. That's who I really want to talk to. And in 33 days, I get to find out if I'm in the conversation.