Eggshell White Fifth Wheel

I'm guessing about the year 2000 I moved into a position in my professional career where I was high enough up the ladder to start attending out of town conferences. Every year, a trade association of which I am a member holds their annual conference and trade show during the summer (story #1 and story #2 from this year).

A big part of the conference is the Friday Golf tournament which is a fund raiser for a charitable foundation. Since around 2002 I've been a part of a standing foursome which gets together and takes part every year. We always finish near the middle of the pack, never really contend for any of the prizes, but probably have the most fun of any of the groups. Since we're all scattered across the country, we only get to see each other a few times a year at conferences like these so we make the most of our time together.

Three years ago only three of us were able to play as the fourth had a family emergency and did not travel to the conference. We still had a great time, and made sure to drink a beer (or more) in his absence. In 2007, it again was only three of us. This time one of our group had left the industry and was no longer a part of the association. We did pick up a friend of a friend and still had a good time. This year, we didn't even play. Another one of the gang had left the business, leaving only two remaining. My other playing partner was now a part of the tournament organizing committee, which meant he couldn't play. Needless to say, the foursome that had terrorized golf courses, drink cart girls, and cigar vendors for the past six years was no longer.

The group remains friendly to this day, even though we've gone different paths and don't get the chance to see each other much anymore. Like the rest of the world, we stay in touch via email and phone calls. One thing I've noticed over the years, even when we were still playing, was that I was always the one initiating the contact with the group. Moe, Curly or Larry rarely picked up the phone or dropped an email to reach out to me, even though they spoke routinely amongst themselves. When I called, the conversations would frequently start "I was just talking to (Moe, Curly or Larry)" or "you should call more often." Apparently their phones only receive incoming calls because they never made phone calls to me. When I lost the sense that I mattered, I gave up trying to see if they would reach out to me. They did not.

I've always been somewhat on the periphery of this and other groups. I make my way through life as a fifth wheel, not really a core member of any group but someone allowed to tag along. I spend a lot of time pondering why that is. I never have come up with an answer. I have to guess that I'm lacking something to each of these groups which make me OK to bring along but not on the "must invite" list. I'm not the life of the party and I'm certainly not anywhere close to being one of the pretty people. For the guys, I'm dependable enough to get them to the next bar, pick up a tab when it's my turn, and maybe have a story to add to the conversation. For the women, I'm the safe nice guy... the one who will hold the door open, watch your bags when you go to the washroom, and will laugh along as you swoon over the hot, bad boy on the other side of the room. I'm the eggshell white paint of life... a background shade that fades from view for the more colorful fixtures of the world. Durable and dependable, I do my job and let the rest of the world shine.

Perhaps that is the moral of the story... never assume you mean as much to someone as they mean to you. After all, you may just be the eggshell white fifth wheel.