I had just finished my first presentation as Associate Vice President of Operations. I was prepared, confident, comfortable, and all of my key points made just the splash I needed them to. I felt like I was finally “The Man.”
I decided to head to the roof for a celebratory cigarette and whirlwind of fresh air. Finally feeling like I had made it, I stood atop 30 stories, looking down at the flowing crowds on Madison Avenue. They resembled schools of fish or lines of ants. The image immediately brought me back to childhood and I wanted to burn them with my magnifying glass or scoop them up with a fishing net, filet, batter, and cook them for dinner. Most of them as insignificant as leaves on a tree; I bet if I took out one or maybe a few of them, no one would even miss them or notice they were gone.
I took my penny out of my pocket and rubbed it between my forefinger and thumb. I had always kept it there as a memory of where I’d come from. Standing at the top of this building, it reminded me of the old theory that if a person threw a penny from the empire state building and it landed on someone’s head, the penny would kill them. I didn’t need my penny anymore; I had considered it silly a long time ago but kept it just in case. The reality was, I could never forget how I poor I was as a kid, and I had certainly tried.
Contemplating if I was high enough, I decided it didn’t really matter, it’s probably impossible to kill someone with a penny. I flicked the penny over the side of the building and began to rush over to watch its landing. Changing my mind mid-stride, I realized I was most likely rushing for nothing. I flicked my cigarette over the edge and turned around to head back downstairs to have a drink with my co-workers and celebrate the day properly.