The phone vibrated in his pocket. Must be his mother, or worse, his ex-wife.
Thanksgiving planning was in full swing - trying to decide who sits next to who, who pissed in whose Cheerios during the year, which young spawn had new boyfriends or girlfriends or non-binary companions or whatever the horse shit one of Jack’s kids had come up with at fourth-of-July
- - and, again the phone vibrated. He reached down and turned it off, and returned to his meeting.
“Technology is next on the list, Jason, you’re up.”