I’m valuable at work, dependable and pleasant, and a man who is generally seen as “going places.” Not that I’m a slave to the office, mind you; I’m not one of those. No. I’m there on time—“on the dot,” as my father used to say—often stay a little into the evening but try to take a good hour or so out for lunch. Walk around the park or through the mall over on Beacon when the weather turns. If you don’t do that, get out and stretch the legs, I mean, you’re just asking for trouble. Begging for it. And in those places—the park, the mall, any of the nearby restaurants—I move happily and anonymously about. Oh sure, I see the occasional coworker, but a wave of the hand and a “hey there” usually do the trick. Sometimes there’s a few minutes of shoptalk or gossip, but I try to keep that noon hour reserved mostly for ol’ number one. I think it’s added years to my life. I really do. I don’t often socialize with my office mates, either, not anymore. I used to, when I first started out there, but that whole after-hours scene has really cooled down for me. See, I’m married. Yep, got myself hitched about six years ago now and it’s great, it really is, but marriage takes up a lot of time and energy if you do it right. That’s what they tell me, anyway. A solid marriage is a real commitment. And I plunged in feetfirst, believe you me. I really did. Once I met her, “woman of my dreams” and all that, well, it just didn’t make sense to do anything but go for it.