I have recently discovered that there is an entire world operating between the hours of 9:00 a.m. and 5:00 p.m. I had heard rumors. I assumed it was mostly retired people, toddlers, and the occasional man waiting for his tires to be rotated.
I was wrong.
Technically, I am not unemployed. I am temporarily off work while dealing with a medical issue. But after spending most of my adult life working during normal business hours, I have suddenly been issued what appears to be a twelve-week visitor’s pass into a civilization I previously knew nothing about.
And I have questions. A lot of questions. The first is fairly simple: Who are all these people? And perhaps more importantly: Doesn’t anybody have a job?
I realize the irony of this question. I am also standing there. But that’s different. I have paperwork.
The Daytime Civilization
For most of my adult life, I apparently believed that when I went to work, everybody else did too.
At approximately 8:00 every morning, responsible adults went to their assigned locations. Stores remained open, obviously, but presumably only because somebody needed to be there in case an elderly person needed milk or someone had a plumbing emergency.
Coffee shops made coffee. Restaurants prepared for dinner. Target employees straightened things. And then, at approximately 5:00 p.m., America reopened. Apparently, this is not how any of this works.
There are people everywhere.
I went into a coffee shop on a weekday morning expecting to find perhaps three retired men discussing municipal taxes and one person aggressively typing a screenplay nobody will ever read.
Instead, the place was full. People drinking coffee. People having conversations. People working on laptops. People who appeared to have nowhere else they needed to be. It was fascinating.
So naturally, I began studying them.
Where Are All the Men?
After spending some time in this strange new environment, I noticed something. There were women everywhere. Where are the men? I’m serious. Go into a suburban coffee shop at 10:30 on a Wednesday morning and look around. Women. Go to Target. Women. Go to the gym. Women. Go back to the coffee shop. Somehow, the same women. The men, apparently, have been removed from the daytime ecosystem entirely.
There are a few exceptions. Occasionally, you will see an older gentleman wandering around Home Depot with the confidence of a man who knows exactly which screw he needs. There is also usually one guy sitting in the corner of the coffee shop staring at a laptop. I don’t know what he does. He may own six companies. He may be unemployed. He may be playing solitaire. There is no way to tell.
I am beginning to understand that this daytime civilization operates on a strict don’t-ask-don’t-tell employment policy.
My Completely Scientific Research
After several days of careful observation, I believe I have identified the migratory pattern of the attractive suburban woman. My findings are preliminary, but the data appears compelling:
Gym → Coffee Shop → Target → Gym Again → Boyfriend → Home to Make Dinner Before Her Husband Gets Home.
I don’t understand the logistics. I’m simply reporting what I’ve observed. There are still some gaps in the research. For example, I don’t know what happens between Target and the second trip to the gym.
There may be a nail appointment. Possibly lunch. More research is required. Fortunately, I have time. Apparently, that’s what we have out here.
Target at 10:30 A.M.
I had no idea Target was even open at 10:30 in the morning. I mean, intellectually, I understood that it was. But I assumed it was mostly employees waiting for the rest of us.
No. Target is thriving. People are casually walking through the aisles with absolutely no sense of urgency. They’re looking at throw pillows. At 10:30 in the morning. On a Tuesday.
There are people pushing carts containing absolutely nothing they appear to need. They came to Target without a list. They’re just seeing what happens. This is apparently an activity. Meanwhile, I have spent my entire adult life entering stores like I’m conducting a military operation.
I know what I need. I know where it is. I have an extraction route. These people are browsing. At one point, I saw someone pick something up, look at it for several seconds, and then put it back. No purchase. No objective. Just curiosity.
I wanted to ask her what she did for a living, but I am trying not to interfere with the subjects.
The Daytime Gym
The gym is another revelation. I am familiar with the after-work gym. The after-work gym is a place of desperation. Everyone arrives at roughly the same time. They’re tired. They’re hungry.
They have exactly 47 minutes to exercise before they have to get home, make dinner, feed the dog, help someone with homework, or collapse on the couch wondering why they’re paying $39.99 a month for this.
The daytime gym is different. Nobody is in a hurry. These people have apparently reserved the entire afternoon for shoulders. A man will do one set of curls and then sit on the bench for twelve minutes contemplating his future. Nobody cares. Where does he have to be? Apparently nowhere.
There are conversations happening. Friendships. Entire social structures. I’ve always thought the gym was a place you went to exercise. Apparently, between 9 and 5, it’s a community center with dumbbells. Again, nobody told me.
Lunch Is Apparently an Event
Restaurants are another mystery. Why is a restaurant packed at 1:43 on a Wednesday afternoon? Who are these people? I understand lunch breaks. I have had lunch breaks. A lunch break is when you eat something as quickly as possible while still mentally working.
These people are ordering appetizers. They’re having dessert. They’re getting refills. Somebody brought balloons. There is apparently an entire population celebrating birthdays while the rest of us are at work.
I spent decades believing restaurants between lunch and dinner were basically empty rooms where servers rolled silverware and questioned their life choices.
I was wrong about that too.
The Dogs Have a Different Life
Even the dogs are different. I’ve discovered that dogs go on walks in the middle of the day. Who knew? I’ve always assumed dogs spent the hours between 9 and 5 sleeping by the window, patiently waiting for civilization to return.
Apparently, some dogs have a much better social calendar than I do. They’re walking through parks. Going to pet stores. Sitting outside coffee shops. One dog I saw recently looked like he had three appointments before lunch.
Meanwhile, Shiloh is probably wondering why I suddenly never leave.
He’s spent years developing a routine around my absence, and now I’m sitting there at 11:00 in the morning asking him what he wants to do today.
He doesn’t know. This is new for both of us.
Then It Hit Me
The strangest part of this entire experience is realizing that I am now one of these people. Somewhere, there is a man driving to work at 10:17 in the morning. He’s stopped at a red light. He looks through the window of a coffee shop and sees me sitting there. Coffee in front of me. Phone in my hand. Possibly writing a blog about him. And he thinks: Doesn’t that guy have a job?
Yes. Sort of. It’s complicated. But now I understand. Every person I’ve been silently judging during my scientific research probably has a story. Some work nights. Some work weekends. Some work from home. Some are retired. Some own businesses. Some are on vacation. Some are temporarily off work. Some may actually be unemployed.
And some probably haven’t had a job since 1997 and somehow drive a nicer car than I do. I’m still investigating that group.
Twelve Weeks in the Wild
So here I am. For approximately twelve weeks, I have been granted temporary access to a world that has apparently existed around me my entire life. I intend to use this opportunity responsibly. I will study its people. Learn their customs. Document their migration patterns. Visit their natural habitats. And perhaps, eventually, answer the greatest mystery of all: Where are all the men?
Until then, I will continue my research. Tomorrow, I may go to Target at 11:00 a.m. I don’t need anything. Apparently, that’s the point.
For science.
Keep Scratching
Maybe that’s part of the fun of life. You spend years following the same routines, driving the same roads, seeing the same people, and assuming you pretty much understand how the world works. Then life changes your schedule. Suddenly, you see things you never noticed before.
Sometimes transformation isn’t about becoming someone completely different. Sometimes it’s simply about stepping outside the routine long enough to realize how much of life you’ve been walking past without ever seeing.
That’s part of what I explore in Finding Your Transformative Life, learning to see your experiences differently, finding the lessons hiding inside ordinary moments, and recognizing that even an unexpected interruption can show you something you never knew was there.
Apparently, sometimes transformation looks like personal growth. And sometimes it looks like standing in Target at 11:00 on a Tuesday wondering why nobody has a job. Either way, keep looking.
There’s always something to learn.
