- My work told us we had some "visitors" coming on one of our non-office days. They were taking photos of the office, conducting interviews with leaders, and having meetings. Weird.
The day before the visit was an in-office day. They asked for "volunteers" to help clean up around the office. Breaking down boxes, shelving the mountains of books, ditching clutter. In exchange, they offered a pizza lunch.
Also weird.
I usually skip work lunches, donuts, and the like. If I'm going to find joy through food, I'd rather do it in a place that doesn't feel like Suffocation on Broadway. Plus, I eat the same lunch every day and I'm not gonna break my streak because someone at work asked me to.
Anyway, I left the office to eat my own lunch during pizza time. When I came back, everyone was buzzing around cleaning. I took my seat at my desk, put on my headphones, and did my actual work.
Awkward. I know it was awkward. It felt awkward. Part of me is still cringing that I didn't just suck it up and pitch in. I'm sure the powers that be took note.
But I just couldn't do it. What were we setting the stage for?
- One time I had a prophetic dream. In it, I went to the kitchen to find my younger brother there, cutting an uncooked frozen pizza in half. I scolded him for wasting the second half.
When I woke up from the dream, I went to the kitchen. There was my younger brother, in the process of shoving half of an uncooked frozen pizza back into the freezer. He'd cut it in half. His reasoning? There were only toppings on half of it.
Clearly, I am psychic.
- Around this same time, I was at my high school job bullshitting with my coworkers. I told them about my prophetic pizza dream and insisted that I am psychic. (Other than the pizza, I've had a few strange moments. All fairly stupid but nonetheless mysterious.)
Of course, they were skeptical. I had to prove it.
I was assigned the task of guessing one coworker's mom's maiden name. I don't know why this was the assignment, but my good name as a psychic hinged on it.
While I had spent time with this coworker outside of work, I'd never met her family and was not quite weird enough to have done a deep-dive into her family lore. (Our interactions were mostly about going to Taco Bell.)
And while the name is Swedish in origin, in a state with strong Swedish roots, it is not terribly common.
No, my answer came from pure prophetic perception. Within seconds, I guessed it. First try. The name was Nyquist.
The reaction was stunned silence followed by petrified wonder. I have never been more cool.
