I was doing my daily meditation but also aware I was hungry and craving a hamburger and thinking about getting takeout from the bar down the street with its gruff bartender who always writes up the order, which last time and the time before and, yes, the time before that wasn’t ready by the promised fifteen minutes, and as I was meditating for twelve minutes because that’s all I can go without a break, and becoming mentally unquiet about the possibility of having to confront the bad-tempered bartender, who always answers the phone Yeah?, about why he never puts in my order until after I get there and suspecting he might just tell me off if I did provoke him, as he appears unyoked to the niceties of customer service, and I would likely respond in kind, insensible to my own welfare, but subsequently be too embarrassed and prideful ever to step foot in the place again, and therefore lose points with my wife who likes the bar’s food and who has—to put it euphemistically—“worked with me” about my tendency to overreact, dismissing my claim that I am simply a product of the assertive East Coast and she the sanguine West Coast with a “Nice try, fella,” and I was so fully into detailing this imbroglio with the uncongenial barkeep that steam could have been coming out of my ears, and I had to think, Whoa, I’m meditating here! and get back to my breath, which had of course become rapid with anticipatory rage as I conjured a scenario along the lines of Kill Bill, or maybe just a few choice words of Go fuck yourself and your stupid takeout food! and then the timer went off and pretty much my entire twelve-minute meditation session was for naught, and I thought, hmm, that could have gone better, but I might as well get this over with, and so I dialed the number and sure enough my nemesis answered with his inhospitable Yeah? accompanied by the clamor of drunks in the background, and I took a calm and detoxifying breath and spoke in a nonjudgmental tone with just a smidgeon of hysterical brutality that I wanted to place a takeout order, and he said, “Hi, Steve,” and I was like WTF just happened! and so surprised that he called me by name that I was instantly released of my righteous anger and corrosive self-importance and samsaric attachment to my bumptious bitterness, and so after giving him my order and feeling freed from our oppositional duality, at least on my part, I pushed things a bit further and said, “Could you hold the pickle?” and he said, “Sure, man, no problem, see you in fifteen,” with what I thought was a very, very tiny laugh attuned as a Buddhist bell.
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Steven Schwartz is the author of six books of fiction, including, most recently, Madagascar: New and Selected Stories. His essays have appeared in The Missouri Review, The Southern Review, Crazyhorse, Gettysburg Review, and elsewhere. He lives in Fort Collins, Colorado.
23 comments
Hayley says:
Sep 16, 2018
Well written, funny, relatable, perfect last line. I loved it!
Eleanor windman says:
Sep 17, 2018
Oh so familiar, I’m cringing
Nancy says:
Sep 17, 2018
Pitch perfect! Thank you!
Jan Priddy says:
Sep 17, 2018
yes, this too
Briana Brakhage says:
Sep 17, 2018
What a gem!
SUSAN Jurgensen says:
Sep 17, 2018
Love this. Understand totally steeling yourself for the negativity and the surprise of bartender’s response.
Leslee Becker says:
Sep 17, 2018
Fabulous and short, the latter an adjective that is often applied to me.
Hey, I think I want to work in that joint.
Bob says:
Sep 19, 2018
I’m the bartender. Thanks for seeing me in this light.
Hope says:
Sep 21, 2018
Loved it, did someone say great last line, but it’s all one line right, one linear line of time, deep breath, and most Buddhists are vegetarians, just saying, ding … loved it.
Becka Lassen says:
Sep 22, 2018
So perfect!
Richard Gilbert says:
Sep 24, 2018
Ha! Relatable, as my students say . . .
Cara says:
Sep 24, 2018
Hey..it is one line, isn’t it? Too good.
M. C. K. Carter says:
Sep 24, 2018
I have always wanted to write a story about a Bodhisattva. I love the the whole idea behind what and who they are. This is wonderful!
Jenn says:
Oct 30, 2018
The zinger at the end–his laugh = so good!
Kenneth Darland says:
Nov 4, 2018
I admit that what caught my eye I was the title “My Bodhisattva.” I wrote a short piece a couple of months ago about a woman with a bunny riding on a bus and compared her to a Bodhisattva. Of course I had to read about your Bodhisattva. Your piece is deceptively simple and imminently relatable, thank you.
Beth Ann Fennelly says:
Nov 5, 2018
Great piece–wry, human, very relatable.
Melissa Cronin says:
Nov 17, 2018
Love this! The humor is perfect.
Kate Rose says:
Dec 6, 2018
Not only wonderful on its own but sweetly reminiscent of a Spaulding Gray bit.
R.L. Maizes says:
Dec 12, 2018
Fantastic!
Nathan says:
Dec 20, 2018
I barked out a heckuva loud laugh at “Hi Steve”
Sherry Lowry says:
Dec 20, 2018
Kept me reading straight through. Almost forgetting to breathe, tho watching for the eventual punctuation. That is, until i got to this reminder << Whoa, I’m meditating here! and get back to my breath,<<
Whoa! Then to release and take an in-breath. 😉
Andy says:
Dec 30, 2018
I’d like to tell you that I really, really like the inside of your mind brought out through the pen or pencil or font of a computer and whenever you’d like to serve up more I’ll take it with pickles please.
Jodi says:
Jan 4, 2019
Loved it again, the second time.