If we were having coffee, we wouldn’t have a lot of time and we would already have an established line of questioning being this isn’t the first time we’ve had coffee.
And I would say
“43 days left. But who’s counting.”
And we’d laugh.
I would tell you how much I enjoy coaching little league for the first year and that the learning curve is higher than Mt. Everest for someone who has never coached before. I’m coaching against guys who have done this for years and whose experience is far beyond mine. And to help you understand what I mean I’d say
“A first year teacher has nothing on me; not that they couldn’t be a better teacher than me but I’ve been in the saddle longer. I know where the bumps are and can anticipate what a student will say, or how someone might react. It’s a kind of foreknowledge you only get by repetition.”
Experience is the ultimate sensei.
“What about mistakes? We learn a lot from our mistakes too.”
I briefly consider all of mine and lose count quickly but I wouldn’t mention this.
“Yeah, they’re a’ight.”
You ask about my knee.
“It’s fine. I’ve been running a lot, six miles, ten.”
“Yeah. But I haven’t ran in five days and I’m feeling like a loser.”
“You’re good. Don’t be so hard on yourself,” you’d say, consoling.
And then I’d confess, sighing
“And I had Panda today.”
You tweak your lips, your eyes roll thinking.
“Well, sometimes you just have to have Panda I guess, you know.”
We nod heads in agreement, take from our coffee.
And then I’d ask you about everything because it would be the first time we’ve had coffee. I’d start with your name because you’d be a stranger to me because, in reality, I don’t have coffee with anyone.