“Honey, the lawn guy seems to be really upset with you,” Terri said.
“Tom?” I asked.
“Tim,” she said.
“You sure?”
“Yes, I’m positive his name is Tim. It says so on the door of his truck.”
“No, I mean are you sure he’s upset with me?”
I was in the home office, whittling away a few more precious minutes reading a story online that I really had no interest in.
Terri nodded and said, “Yes, at least I’m pretty sure. I offered him some water and he said, ‘Well, it’s refreshing to see you’re nicer than your snooty husband.’ ”
I pushed back from the desk, thankful for the distraction from the distraction of another useless web story. I’d have to look into this attitude situation with the lawn guy. I made my way outside to find the crew getting into their truck, the riding mowers stowed away in the back.
And Terri was correct. Right there on the side of the door it said, Tim the Lawn Guy. I walked around to the driver’s side where Tim was about to get in.
“Tim, great job as always. The place looks fantastic,” I said.
Tim looked at me, elevated his nose slightly and turned to get in the truck. He was definitely a little ticked off, that much was certain.
“Using a new weed killer or something?” I asked.
Tim stopped and turned to me. He looked at me like I had stiffed him on the holiday tip.
“No, nothing new, unless of course we count my birthday,” he said.
“Well, that’s just great, Tim,” I said. “Happy birthday, big fella.”
I slapped him on the arm, and went to shake his hand. He declined.
“It was yesterday,” he said.
“Well, heck, let’s keep the party going, huh?” I said, smiling. “Live it up today, too.”
Tim nodded, said nothing, then got in his truck. He closed the door a bit more forcefully than necessary, and drove off with his guys.
I chalked it up to Tim having a bad day, or month maybe. I don’t know, but I didn’t have a lot of time to spend on it. I had errands to do. First stop, the dry cleaner. I was taking my clothes off the little rack when Rick the owner said something odd.
“You got everything you need to look good there. You know, like just in case you were going out for a big celebration. A birthday maybe.”
It stopped me cold. Hmmm, I thought, another birthday reference. Puzzling.
“Nope, I’m not for another five months, Rick,” I said.
“Great, I’ll be sure not to wish you a happy birthday,” he said, pretending to be preoccupied with a pair of pants.
“Did I miss your birthday?” I asked.
“Yup, not a big deal though. I’m only eighty-one, so no telling how many more I’ll have. You can get me next year, God willing.”
I walked into the house with my cleaning and found Terri on her computer. “I’m pissing people off all over town,” I said, explaining my encounters with Tim and Rick.
“Boy, that is odd,” she said, giving me roughly a one-eighth sliver of her attention while checking a social media account.
“I mean, Tim and Rick fall squarely in the Small Talk bucket, know what I’m saying? It’s not like they’re close friends.”
“Uh huh,” Terri said, the attention sliver shrinking.
“They’re small talk and passing comments. How the hell would I know when their birthdays are? I’m almost one-thousand percent certain I have never wished either of them a happy birthday before.”
Terri giggled while staring at the screen. My sliver of attention was gone.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Did I make a joke?”
“Oh,” she said, looking at me. “I got caught up looking at this cute picture of a cat from Cindy. She sent it to me when she got my happy birthday wish on Faceplant.”
“That’s it,” I screamed, startling Terri.
“What? What’s it?”
“Faceplant. I quit it last month and deleted the app from my phone.”
Terri covered her mouth as if someone had just received a terminal diagnosis. “Oh, no. All those birthday wishes to your friends, gone. Just like that. Birthday wishes from you to–“
“Random people, and Small Talk bucket guys,” I said.
“But, so many people, honey. They’ll all think you forgot about them,” she said. “No wonder people are angry with you. You’ve given them the cold shoulder.”
“The digital cold shoulder,” I said.
I stood there feeling awful. For all of ten seconds.
“But seriously, do I really need to wish happy birthday to everyone I’ve ever known?” I asked.
Terri was tapping away at the keyboard. “Oh it’s Maggie McGuirk’s birthday today. I would have never known,” she said.
“And she is?”
“My fourth grade teacher. She was so sweet.”
“She’s still alive?” I asked.
“Hmm, what should I say?”
“How about, happy birthday? And ask is she knows a good lawn guy while you’re at it.”