Ten days go by. I try to be Zen. I try not to think about it. I try not to call the woman back to find out what is going on. I am not successful.
The first day of Passover, when I should have been focused on getting ready for my favorite holiday? I called and left a message asking about the status. Twice I day I checked the website to see if the “Final Judging in New York on June 3rd” had magically been changed to “Final Judging in New York on a date when the person who got the most votes out of anyone can be there”.
It did not.
I wait another five days and leave another message. The lovely woman in the promotions department calls me back.
They cannot change the date.
I can send a proxy.
Because that is just what everyone wants to do, take three days off of work in the middle of a week to fly to New York and make my cocktail so I can win 5k!
Luckily, my good friend Peter, master mixologist who lives in NYC offers to attend the judging on my behalf and shake up my martooni as if his life depended on it. I tried to put only good energy into the universe and not let my cynical side take hold, which wanted very much to entertain the thought that they would never allow the grand prize to go to someone who wasn’t present to accept it.
I called the promotions girl back and assured her that I am in NY all the time, sometimes as often as once a month and would be delighted, were I so lucky to win the big prize, to make myself available for any photo shoots or publicity they might want me to do.
I might be trying not to be cynical, but that doesn’t mean I get stupid in the process.
NEXT: The Polymath’s Good Fortune