Walking in the door, Zwena announces, “Hey, Toni, did you know Benjamin Franklin invented the lightning rodandthe urinary catheter?”
I look to Krish and ask, “What is she talking about?”
Krish shrugs out of his coat. “She’s been spouting random US history facts the whole ride over.”
“Not random,” Zwena defends. “I’ve decided to take my citizen’s exam, and these are the types of things I need to know.”
“I don’t think the invention of the urinary catheter will be on the citizenship test,” Krish jokes.
“Maybe not, but it’s good to know if I become a medical assistant,” Zwena contends.
I pour us each a full glass of wine, and we huddle around my laptop with phones for backup stalking. I pull up the bestuman.com website. Zwena eases into her commentary, announcing she’s happy to see Simon has enough self-respect not to wear man sandals online. Though she does remark that his chiseled features could overcome any choice in footwear. Krish calls it as he sees it: “What a douche.”
The three of us agree that I shouldn’t be the one to sign up for Simon’s free weekly newsletter, but someone should definitely keep tabs on him. Knowing how self-involved Simon is, Krish and I determine that he might recognize Krish’s name from the years Simon and I dated and the fact that the two men met at least twice. Zwena is the obvious choice since she is from the post-Simon era. After Zwena inputs her email address, I grab her phone. Fifteen seconds later I open the welcome email and read aloud:
Today is the first day of the rest of your best life! U man, are going to become a better human.
“We should sue him for sexist language and gender discrimination,” Zwena determines, already bothered. A decade living in America, and Zwena has figured out how things work here. Feelings are confused as facts, and hurt feelings are a foundation for litigious action.
“No,” Krish and I decide out loud.
“Keep reading,” I insist, thrusting Zwena’s phone at her. One line in and I’m already incapable of reading any more of Simon’s bullshit, but I still want to hear it.
You’re in a dead-end job that you cannot get out of, and you feel like life is passing you by at warp speed. You know you’re supposed to do something wholly different that makes you feel alive and that gives your existence more meaning than what you are experiencing right now.
I shift uncomfortably on the couch, unable to deny that Simon has nailed my state of living the last two years: a dead-end that he put me in by leaving for that something wholly different that makes him feel alive and full of purpose.
Or you want to leave your current living situation and move to an uncharted sphere where you can start a new future, start over.
Now that’s for sure a topic on which Simon is truly an expert.
The question you may be asking yourself is, How do you make this dream come true? The answer is you must first sayyesto exactly what it is you want to do. And when you do that, unequivocally, barriers will start to fade and your world will open to endless possibilities. And that dream you desire? That dream will become your reality.
“Just sayyes? That’s Simon’s big solution to getting what you want. You know what happens when you sayyestoo much? Bad credit and chlamydia,” Zwena declares. Krish looks at Zwena, horrified, but neither of us want to know if she’s hypothesizing or speaking from experience.
“Relax, I’m itch-free,” Zwena clarifies, reading our thoughts. “I was making a point. But my credit score could use some help.”
Sound scary? It is. And that’s where I come in. Whether you are looking to inspire your company, your team, or yourself, I am the guide you need to walk beside you on this journey from dream to reality. You have already taken the first step, signing up for my weekly newsletters. Read them. Sit with them. I believe, with absolute certainty, that you will knowin your heart the right time to contact me so we can get to work building the BEST U MAN you can be.
We will connect soon,
Simon Evans
“Do you think Simon came up with the Best U Man himself, or did he spend money he should have been sending your way on a branding specialist?” Krish wonders out loud while uncorking a second bottle of pinot.
My gut twists. When Simon left, I assumed he walked out the door as broke as he left the three of us at home. It never occurred to me he had a hidden stash of cash or was making some while on the road.
“Can we watch one of his Yes, Man videos, and then I swear we’re done with Simon,” I promise Krish and Zwena. Neither responds. They both know the chances of that being true are nil. “Then we’ll be done for tonight,” I admit. Resigned, I get thego aheadchin lift from my coconspirators. I hit “Play.”
Zwena’s face registers a mix of whiffing a foul smell and cringing from secondhand embarrassment. “Yesu, Simon reminds me of the European men who used to roam Magongo’s streets preaching to save African souls through their religious superiority. Those men were allpraise bewhile I was allplease don’t. They did snag one of my uncles, though, and now he’s part of their starched white shirt pack, praising the Lord to anyone who will listen. He’s irritating as hell.” When I reach to tee up a second video, Zwena gives me the sameplease don’tglare that I imagine she has given her uncle a time or two.
When Zwena asks me what, specifically, I’m looking for in between Simon’s claims, I don’t have a solid answer. Sometimes Zwena’s command of the English language surpasses mine, having grown up learning the King’s English rather than the butchered American version. Matching the conviction Simon has when calling himself a healer,Zwena identifies him for what he really is, a “right wanker.” Krish dramatically yawns, letting us know his attention span for verbal male dismemberment has clocked out.
“Are you two really going to make me forward this self-help-seeking nonsense to you every week?” Zwena asks, holding up her glass to signal she needs a refill. The Western phenomenon of enabling is one that Zwena doesn’t get. In her mind, freedom and opportunity are the greatest self-help tools available, so why is there a thriving industry to boost American self-esteem? In Zwena’s view, if you want self-esteem, perform esteemed acts and stop whining. Americans are born with all the help they need. “This is the only country where the idea of hierarchy of needs is spelled h-i-g-h-e-r-archy. You all are always wanting more. Looking for what comes next. Let me tell you, you have enough. Right here, right now. Get over yourselves.”
Krish and I give each other a sheepish look, schooled once again by Zwena on the simultaneous sins of selfishness and laziness of Americans. We don’t want to sweat and suffer, we want a merciful catchphrase and for someone to fix us instead of doing the repairs ourselves.
“Yes, I want it!” I insist, knowing the wrath Zwena will rain down on me, but also owning that I won’t be able to keep my hands off the keypad unless Zwena is the gatekeeper between me and Simon’s newsletter.
