In my night-time job, a flashlight is essential. Duh, obviously. The (somewhat boring and unremarkable) photo above, shows my Mini-Maglite after its adventure last week. Let me describe what happened.
I drive cars for money. The problem is that there is a protocol preventing us doing certain things – things like disclosing where I work, or doing anything that might connect the car I’m in with were I begin and end my evening. If this sounds weird and cryptic, it is. I’m limited by contract to what I can write.
Which preamble explains why I just couldn’t stop and pick up my flashlight. I’d left it sitting atop the car from where it rolled off onto the road as I made the first turn. I heard the…
…as it rolled off the trunk and departed, probably never to be seen again. I was momentarily annoyed at my foolishness. Firstly, I would be without a flashlight for my entire night shift. That’s not a disaster in its own right, but I didn’t particularly want to go out the next day and buy another one.
Because I’m shifting my thinking to being in the moment, I had the following thought. You know, if it’s there in the morning, it’s good. If not, that’s also fine.
From that moment on, it didn’t bother me for the rest of my shift. And wouldn’t you know it, when I arrived back in the morning, (retracing my route) there was the flashlight, sitting right in the middle of the eastbound. Again, we’re not allowed to stop out front, so I had to wait until I left for home, in my own car. The flashlight had, in the eleven hours it had been sitting in the roadway, been bashed up pretty well. You can see the damage. Amazingly, it had been neither smushed, punted off the side of the road, nor destroyed. And it still worked.
How’s that for resilience? I’ll leave you to draw the conclusion I made about my own life.