No One to Tell

No One to Tell is a chronological collection of events recapturing an era when life was good, when we enjoyed the work we did, when five o'clock meant the day was done, time to party, not answering your phone in stalled traffic because your thirty-something boss hasn't finished impressing himself. Business in the 70s was all about handshakes, cocktail lunches, and making money. After hours was all about living, enjoying life, being who we were. Women and men complementing and complimenting each other. In the 80s women dressed as women, acting as ladies, making the role of a gentleman much easier. We opened doors and pulled out chairs. Romance was a skillset. Then came the 90s and the antithesis of evolution. Fax machines were obsolete, laptops and emails the new requisites. We began talking on phones while driving, dressing-down on Fridays, becoming androgynous. As much the women's fault as the men's, with fewer chairs were pulled out, fewer doors opened.The 00s brought more technology, turning adults into children, hand-held devices stealing our freedom, the work ethic transmuting to 24/7. Cinq à sept no longer meant Happy Hour; it meant working until seven to placate a boss fearful of not pleasing his. Casual Friday became Sloppy Friday, invasive emails and texting surreptitiously altering our mindsets. Gulping fast food became more efficient than fine meals, caps and tee-shirts in restaurants the new vogue. Glamour disappeared, private conversations became public, thumbing banal messages more important than holding hands and seductive whispers. Now in the 10s 'gentleman' is an archaic term, the rare ladies who persist most certainly lamenting the passing of a bygone era