Here’s a thing that happened:
I received a call from a man who wanted to possibly hire me to work with more than a dozen executives in his organization.
He spoke with an Australian accent, swore a lot, and fired off his words quickly and aggressively.
I liked him a lot.
But the conversation went on longer than I thought it would, and Clara needed to be transported to her weekly Dungeons & Dragons game at the local gaming store, so I motioned for her to get into the car while I continued the conversation on my phone, using my headphones so I could continue the call hands-free.
Halfway to the gaming store, I hit another car while still in the middle of the conversation. I was following another car up a hill when the setting sun caught my eyes, blinding me for a moment, so I didn’t notice the car ahead of me stop at a red light.
I also didn’t see the light change red. The sun had caught my eyes just right.
When I saw the car, I slammed on my brakes. Then I muted my phone and said to Clara, “Did I just hit that car?”
“I don’t think so,” she said.
Neither did I. It was hard to tell. I had slammed on the brakes so hard that the jolt could’ve been from the sudden braking. It was hard to tell. But a second later, the hazard lights on the car in front of me came on.
“I guess I did,” I said. I turned on my hazards, too, and stepped out of the car.
The man was still speaking to me on the phone. Still explaining his proposal. My phone was still muted.
The driver and I met between our two cars to inspect the damage as I continued to listen to the conversation through my headphones.
As far as we could see, there was no damage.
“I hit you?” I asked.
“Barely,” he said.
I explained that the sun had momentarily blinded me, leaving me unable to see. He agreed. The same had happened to him.
“We should exchange information,” I said, “Just in case you find out your car is damaged.”
In my headphones, the man on the phone was still talking to me, explaining the details of his proposed deal.
The driver of the other car and I touched phones to transfer contact information. Then we shook hands and returned to our cars.
As I climbed in, the man on the phone finally asked me a question. I unmuted my phone as I shifted the car into drive and continued on while answering his questions.
Just as we pulled into the parking lot of the gaming store, I finally ended the call.
As Clara was getting out of the car for her game, she said, “Dad, you have a complicated life.”
“Sometimes,” I said, which is true,
