{"id":2121,"date":"2020-12-12T19:28:26","date_gmt":"2020-12-13T02:28:26","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/?p=2121"},"modified":"2020-12-12T19:28:26","modified_gmt":"2020-12-13T02:28:26","slug":"spotlight","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/2020\/12\/12\/spotlight\/","title":{"rendered":"Spotlight"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

prompt: Write a story about someone who\u2019s famous for something they never actually did….<\/em><\/em>
available at Reedsy<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Fame: many claim to want it, a few would kill to get it, I just want it to stop. Every time the story comes up I want to crawl in a hole and disappear. There’s no way I can live up to something I never did.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Perhaps I should back up a little. This all started four years ago. I was sat at my laptop in a 24-hour diner, working late into the night. I had a tricky bit of code I was trying to coax into shape, and chose a booth near the back. The quiet, and the low lights, combined with a double-order of fries and non-stop coffee was the perfect setting for it. When I finally called it a night I felt bad for the waitress. I realized I’d been there three hours and only spent seven dollars. So I laid a twenty on the table, wrote “Sorry for taking so much of your time” on a napkin and left. As I was leaving an older man passed me with a slip of paper in his hand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At the time I figured he was going to sit in one of the booths, but now I know better. He ruined my life. Sure, he made someone else’s life 8.9 million times better, but I<\/em> paid the price.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

By nature I’m a solitary sort. Crowds make me nervous, cameras make me self-conscious, and public speaking is right on out. I don’t appreciate being the center of attention, even among acquaintances and coworkers. So it was that when I returned to work on the following Monday and all my coworkers began to gather around that I went from uneasy to downright paralyzed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They asked \u201cAnna, are you going to call her?\u201d Their attention was clamorous and nauseating. Saying things like “wow, I could never do something like that,” and “you really are a saint, aren’t you?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I finally snapped “what the hell are you talking about!?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“The tip? At the diner? Friday night!”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That had me more confused. “Yeah, I left a twenty for some fries and coffee, because I hogged the booth for three hours.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Not that, the lottery ticket.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“I don’t play the lottery. It’s a tax on people who don’t understand statistics.” I shook my head, determined to just focus on work. That kept me busy until lunch, when I saw the local news story running on the big screen in the break room.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“A local waitress is trying to locate this woman who left her a life-changing tip on Friday.” A blurry cell-phone picture of me was on the screen, next to a picture of the twenty and the note I left on the table. Under the twenty was a lottery ticket. The old man, that was in his hand!<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

The news caster continued. \u201cAn 8.9 million dollar tip. The winning lottery numbers, revealed on Thursday, matched only one ticket. That same ticket was left as a tip at this local diner on Friday night. Yesterday, we talked to the waitress who received that tip.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The waitress showed up, her face blurred out. Sure, they can protect her privacy, but what about mine? <\/em> \u201cMy mother\u2019s hospital bills were about to make us both homeless. Now I can pay off my mother’s house and medical bills, and put aside a bunch for my son’s education. I pulled taxes out first, then gave a million to all the other crew that were on that night to share. I would <\/em>like to give the rest back to the woman who left it. If she doesn\u2019t want it I guess I could donate it to the women\u2019s shelter. I haven’t really thought about it beyond that, except maybe to fix my car.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“And what kind of car is it?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“It’s a ’79 Honda. It’s tiny, and rusty, but it\u2019s good enough for me, except it burns oil.\u201d She laughed. \u201cMy dad bought it new, and passed it on. It\u2019s got about 950 thousand miles on it, and it still works, so…,\u201d she shrugged.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThis morning, the local Honda dealership offered to completely restore her nearly million-mile car for free, and is offering a new car to the woman who left the tip. In addition, several local businesses have offered free goods and services to the mystery angel who – ” click<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I turned off the TV. “Fuck me. The old man. That’s what he was holding.” All eyes were on me. “Oh come on! You all know better than that. I. Don’t. Play. The lottery.” Everyone turned away nervously, and pretended to be very interested in their lunch. My appetite gone, I tossed the remains of my lunch in the garbage and returned to my desk.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

By the end of the work day word had somehow got out to the media, and news vans surrounded the office; cameras everywhere. There was no exit I could take and not be seen. I decided to hold my head high and walk straight out the front door to the bus stop. I ignored the yammering questions until I was almost past all the cameras.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I turned to face them and silence fell, broken only by the sound of camera shutters. \u201cI will only say this once. It wasn\u2019t me. Yes, I was there and left the note and the twenty-dollar bill. I did not<\/em> leave the lottery ticket. I don\u2019t<\/em> play the lottery.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

One of the reporters piped up \u201cMs. Jenkins, the ticket was bought two weeks ago, with cash, at the corner convenience store closest to your apartment. We have you on the surveillance footage in the store the night the ticket was bought. Why do you want to hide from such a selfless deed?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I shook my head. \u201cLeave me alone.\u201d I turned and walked to the end of the block where the bus stop was and waited for my bus. The crews were clamoring to move their cameras to follow me, getting in each other\u2019s way. Having timed my exit well, the bus stopped and I got on before any more inane questions could be hurled at me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

On the bus, the stares were immediate, and intense. Someone said \u201cHey! That\u2019s her!\u201d and began clapping. Soon the entire bus was clapping. I got off at the next stop, pulled out my phone and requested an Uber. The driver showed up a few minutes later. He either didn\u2019t recognize me, or was polite enough not to say he did.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Once home, I turned on the TV only to see my face again, next to a grainy surveillance image of me in the corner Fast-Mart. I turned it right back off.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My boss sent me a text, advising me to work from home for a couple weeks until the story died down, as my presence in the office was a \u201cmajor distraction.\u201d Like that made any difference. My absence was not going to keep everyone from talking about me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I spent the next couple weeks doing my work as quickly as possible in the early morning hours, then job hunting in far-away places. I could only hope<\/em> that hiring managers didn\u2019t immediately google my name and see the news pieces.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My phone had been ringing non-stop for days, and I was letting voice mail screen my calls. By that point my face was on all the major national networks, and spreading to international news. They were calling me reclusive, eccentric, and selfless. At least the first one was mostly right. While scanning those messages one made me stop and pay attention. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHi, this is Julia Ramirez, Human Resources Director at SaaS Masters in San Juan, Puerto Rico. We\u2019re very interested in your experience with cloud computing and scalability. We have a position as a senior integrations engineer at our South Africa location, and would like to schedule a phone interview with our other senior engineers some time this week. Give me a call back at this number if you\u2019re interested.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

This was the first job callback I had that hadn\u2019t mentioned my unwanted fame. After doing some online research on the company I called.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSaaS Masters HR, Julia speaking.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHi, Julia. This is Anna Jenkins calling back.\u201d I took a deep breath. \u201cI\u2019m definitely interested in the position, but how would getting to South Africa work?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWell, you would start here, in San Juan, for two months training. Just to get you up to speed on our systems. While that\u2019s going on we\u2019d get your work visa and travel papers handled by our legal department, and we pay for business class air travel, and will help with moving expenses and help you find a place to live. If you want  to fly first class you\u2019ll have to pay for the upgrade yourself.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo, no. Business class is fine,\u201d I said. \u201cTo be honest, I just really want out of the country for a while.\u201d Realizing how bad that sounded I quickly added \u201cnot that I\u2019m in any trouble or anything, I\u2019m just dealing with a lot of media attention and getting tired of it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Julia cleared her throat. \u201cLo entiendo. I mean, we\u2019re all aware. We get the same news here. It just seemed obvious from your reaction to the interview that you didn\u2019t want to be bothered with it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWell, I appreciate that.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBesides,\u201d Julia said, \u201cyou said you didn\u2019t do it, why don\u2019t they believe you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThank you. You\u2019re the first person to say that.\u201d I felt myself relax. \u201cIt means a lot.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My interview was two days later, and within a week I was in the San Juan office. I still got looks and comments on the street, but not in the office. While I was sure everyone knew, they all seemed to be okay with the idea that I didn\u2019t do it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I spent four years working in the South Africa office until my work visa ran out. While there, I only seemed to get more<\/em> famous. Some pundits and bloggers called me \u201cfamous for being famous\u201d while others, rightly, called me a victim of the media. I\u2019ve become the object of countless arguments online and in the media. My refusal to pick up a free car, and share in the winnings was proof that I either did or did not leave the ticket there, depending on which side one was arguing. Regardless, my last few months in Jo-berg I had to duck the news media, but paparazzi were still getting my pictures in the tabloids and online.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

On the flight back I was met with quizzical looks and one traveller who asked \u201caren\u2019t you the woman that gave away the lottery ticket?\u201d My response, of course, was a simple, honest \u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I flew direct from Johannesburg to San Juan, and went through customs there. The customs agents all recognized me right off and wanted selfies, and an autograph. One asked if I ever got my new car. I did my best not to scream at them, and made it through without too much trouble.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\u2019m due back in the office next Monday. I think I\u2019ll see if I can get assigned to the Seoul office next. Perhaps I\u2019m less of a big deal there.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

prompt: Write a story about someone who\u2019s famous for something they never actually did….available at Reedsy Fame: many claim to want it, a few would kill to get it, I just want it to stop. …<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[208],"tags":[214,210,209],"class_list":["post-2121","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-trunk-stories","tag-drama","tag-fiction","tag-short-story"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/pxT7i-yd","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2121","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2121"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2121\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2122,"href":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2121\/revisions\/2122"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2121"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2121"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2121"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}