This is the story about “Chuckie.”

Chuckie was from Portland, Oregon and went to college at Portland State—a downtown “commuter school,” or at least it was back then.

He had been going to PSU part-time, studying “econ,” and working at a downtown department store in the menswear department, making what he thought was pretty good money. But college was tougher than he expected or thought it should be.

Plus, by his own account, Chuckie was a pretty good salesman.

So, one day he decided to drop out. He went to work full-time. Chuckie sold suits and other higher-end haberdashery to downtown businessmen. He was good at it. Good enough, anyway.

As part of his daily routine, every day on his lunch break, Chuckie went to the same diner, a small, family-owned breakfast & lunch joint only a few blocks away from work. Every day.

He never missed lunch on a workday. He would sit in the exact same booth. Every day. And he ordered the exact same meal. Every day.

His meal of choice was the Reuben sandwich with a side of “Cajun” fries—he liked the seasoning better than the plain French fries. Chuckie felt that, somehow, these fries were served with an “extra touch of love.”

Well, it wasn’t entirely the same every day. On Fridays, he’d order the fish & chips—usually halibut or cod, chef’s choice—and a cup of the clam chowder. The “chips,” naturally, he ordered up Cajun-ified.

You may be thinking, “Boy, he must have really liked that restaurant.”

No. Not really.

He really liked the waitress.

She was pretty, spunky, and very nice to him. Naturally, Chuckie saw her as a princess. “I’ve found the unicorn woman,” he thought.

After each meal, he gave her a great tip, but he was so tongue-tied, so enchanted by her beauty, that he could hardly talk to her. “Reuben” was one of the few words he could utter in her presence. “Cajun” was another.

On Fridays, he never said a word. The waitress knew his routine. Fish & chips plus the chowder. Chuckie’s meal arrived hot at his table only a few minutes after he showed up. It was wonderful.

Yet, one day after he left the restaurant and was on his way back to the sales floor, Chuckie felt nothing but ashamed and disgusted with himself.

He realized that he was physically unable to say but a few words of small talk to this dream woman of his.

“I’m going to ask her out tomorrow,”  Chuckie thought, and he set his mind to do exactly that.

But the lunch hour came and went and, other than doing the ordering, he couldn’t muster up the courage to say anything to the waitress.

When he got home that night, Chuckie had a little talk with himself. “Okay,” he thought. “I figured this out. I can’t talk to her because I’m not good enough for her. She’s a princess. I’m not much more than a pauper.”

Chuckie made his first resolution. “Starting tomorrow, I’m going to go back to school. I’m going to get my degree.”

The first step in the action plan. Action was the key. He knew it.

Then he told himself, “I’m going to go to the gym. I’m going to lose weight. I’m going to get in better shape. Six-pack! I will make more money at work. Then, one year from today, I’m going to come back and ask her out for a date.”

Chuckie was ambitious and made more plans. He was resolute. “I’m not going to show up for a whole year, but every single day, I am going to write her an old-fashioned ‘snail-mail’ letter, and the mailman will deliver it to her.”

He was firm and determined.

The next day, Chuckie joined 24 Hour Fitness. He went down to the registrar’s office at PSU and signed up for the next semester’s courses. He made it a point to be an even better salesman and started to make even better commissions at work.

Months went by, of course, but all sorts of things started working out in Chuckie’s favor. He even had that “six-pack” he wanted and, more importantly, every single day the mailman delivered his letter.

It had now been a year. Chuckie still wrote every day. The waitress, however, never, ever wrote back to him.

Rehearsing his speech that he was going to give after a year away, Chuckie said out loud to himself, “I’m going to come into the café next Monday. I’m going to ask you out.”

Positive self-talk. It’s what you’re supposed to do, right? Build up the self-esteem!

He went on. “Now I probably look different to you than I did last year. I also have a better car. I dress even better than when I first met you, and even my sausage fingers have thinned out quite a lot. By gum, in the last year, I also earned my economics degree. Everything’s going great. I want to go on a date with you.”

Chuckie thought he was on the right track. He resolved to perfect his in-person message the next day.

He rehearsed and rehearsed. He wouldn’t say “by gum,” that’s for sure. He also figured it would be best to let her observe for herself the condition of his fingers and hands.

So, the following day, Chuckie waltzed into the diner, head held high, chest out, hands out of his pockets, and began to walk over to his old booth. But he was stopped in his tracks.

When the waitress saw him, she ran over and threw her arms around him. Gave him a big hug.

“Wow, that’s a good sign,” Chuckie thought. He even grinned a little.

With a pep in his step, he made it over to “his” booth, and he ordered the same old meal. Reuben with “Cajun” fries.

“Why don’t you go ahead and add a side salad to that today,” he added.

“Sure, sweetheart. Dressing?”

“Vinaigrette, please.”

“Does balsalmic work?”

“I guess so. Yeah.”

“You got it darlin',” said the waitress.

Sweetheart? Darling? Chuckie was melting on the inside, but he maintained his stoicism.

“Well, I guess you know why I’m here.” Chuckie got straight to the point. “Will you go on a date with me this weekend?”

“I’d love to,” she said. “But I can’t.”

“Oh.” This was unexpected and quite contrary to Chuckie’s plans. “Mind telling me why you can’t?”

“I just got engaged.”

“What? Well, who did you get engaged to?”

“Manny.”

“Who in the world is Manny?” Chuckie asked.

“The mailman.”

As Chuckie was “getting ready,” the mailman took care of business.

Don’t put things off.

You just got to do it, or else you will lose your dreams.

Procrastination is your worst enemy.

As always,

Brian

P.S. – We may have a couple of spots available in our Inner Sphere. (Think of an “inner circle,” but with an extra dimension.) We launch in a couple weeks with our online “mastermind.”

The program will grow from there.

Want to know if you fit in?

If you have something to say and don’t know how to say it or if you need help figuring out how to say it better, we might be a good fit.

Are you sick of procrastinating, want to get things done and see some results?

Get on the list and let’s figure out if we’ll be the right group for you.