When I was about five I spent some afternoons with my dad as he worked. He was a computer consultant, helping various offices and companies with their computer systems. While he worked, I twirled on office chairs till I got dizzy and fiddled with staplers and paperclips.
One afternoon, Dad was particularly focused on fixing a computer issue, when a woman who worked in the office sidled up to me. She had a small, green box of chocolate cookies, which she quickly slid into my pocket. “Shhh...don’t tell your dad. This will be our secret,” she whispered conspiratorially, winking with smile. For the next thirty minutes, I carefully snuck out cookies, and quietly ate them, afraid of my dad discovering what I was doing.
Through this rather innocent experience, something began taking shape in me. Secrets. Deception. I started to believe that there was excitement and power in a lie. And it all started with a small box of cookies and a wink.
One afternoon, Dad was particularly focused on fixing a computer issue, when a woman who worked in the office sidled up to me. She had a small, green box of chocolate cookies, which she quickly slid into my pocket. “Shhh...don’t tell your dad. This will be our secret,” she whispered conspiratorially, winking with smile. For the next thirty minutes, I carefully snuck out cookies, and quietly ate them, afraid of my dad discovering what I was doing.
Through this rather innocent experience, something began taking shape in me. Secrets. Deception. I started to believe that there was excitement and power in a lie. And it all started with a small box of cookies and a wink.
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