“As one does,” he nods.
“Precisely. And all of a sudden, there’s a window emblazoned with the words ‘you may also like’ and below it is a host of items, including the ever-popular lobster claw oven mitts.”
“Exactly.”
“That’s a little creepy, when you think about it.”
“Yea,” he admits. “But it works.”
“Fair enough,” I smile. “So, once you get started on that, I’ll begin proofing everything and finalizing the copy. Which means…” I glance at my calendar, “we should be ready to show it all to Daryl by the end of next week, if we keep this pace.”
A shadow falls across his face just a second before the excitement masks it. “Wow. That’s awesome. I should be good to gothen, in plenty of time for the holidays. And if I time it right, I might even dodge the company holiday party. I heard Wayne got in a fight at last year’s party? He doesn’t seem the violent sort.”
“Ha.Yes, it was wild. He’d had more than his share of eggnog and punched Santa in the face. Apparently, Wayne’s still bitter about that Lite-Brite never showing up under his Christmas tree during his childhood. At least, that’s what Molly said. I wasn’t there. I was stuck in the copy room listening to a heated debate between Tall Steve and Deborah about when it’s appropriate to start decorating. I tried leaving three different times, but both exits were blocked.”
At his raised eyebrow, I explain. “I couldn’t get out the back door because there was a 10 foot inflatable Grinch tethered to the doorknob.”
“Naturally,” he jokes.
“Sure. A festive fire hazard, if you will.”
“I’m a little afraid to ask why you couldn’t use the main door? Maybe a giant sleigh was blocking your path? An abominable snowman, perhaps?”
“Don’t I wish! Unfortunately, Eric had indulged in one too many Santa-tinis and fell fast asleep against the door. I didn’t have the heart—or the strength, frankly—to move him.”
“Well, I’d hate to miss all of that festivity, but duty calls.”
My curiosity gets the better of me. “And just what is this duty? I mean, I know you’re launching an app with your friend, Drew, right? But you never really shared the specifics.”
“Yeah, I uh, guess we always got distracted, huh?” His skin turns scarlet, and he clears his throat and shakes his head. “So, I lived in DC for a couple years. And Drew was visiting one weekend. We went out for some beers and ended up at this donut shop at like, midnight, right?”
I nod, but really, I can’t imagine where this is going. Maybe an app that lets you preorder donuts in the wee hours of the morning?
“So, we’re talking to the donut store lady, and I don’t know how it came up, but she told us that at the end of the night, they have to discard anything that doesn’t sell. They can’t keep it until the next day because it won’t be fresh enough.”
“Okay…”
“Drew was horrified.”
“A big fan of donuts, is he?”
“Well, yeah, he does enjoy the hell out of a cruller, but he’s also a crusader of social justice. He’s also a damn mess most of the time, but that’s beside the point. Anyway, right there in the donut shop, Drew goes on this tirade about how it’s criminal that they’re throwing away donuts and bagels when there’s a homeless shelter like three blocks away.”
“I never thought of it like that.”
“Right? Me neither. I take for granted my ability to buy snacks anytime I want. So, Drew told the lady that we would personally deliver them to the homeless shelter if she’d give them to us instead of throwing them away. She was a little suspicious, but she relented, which is how we came to haul 177 pastries through the streets of Columbia Heights after midnight last January. We were freezing our asses off, and Drew said there had to be a better way. And I said of course there was, which is how we developed our app. It lets restaurants post their overflow so that local shelters, and soup kitchens and such, can call dibs on it. And then it sends notifications out to volunteers to do pick ups and drop offs.”
I’m stunned, though I shouldn’t be. Simon is the best person I know. And I guess I sort of figured his app might have something to do with finding parking spaces in crowded downtown lots or an easier way to grocery shop. Apps are supposed to cater to our innate desire for convenience, right? But, as is apparently my habit, I underestimated him.
“That’s incredible. What’s it called?”
He threads his fingers through his unruly hair. “Yea...that’s still in the works. Right now, we’re calling it Hauling Donuts, but that won’t stick. We need something better, obviously. Turns out, Meals on Wheels is already taken. Bastards.” He rolls his eyes playfully.
“Moveable Feast.” I answer, again, without thinking.
He pauses for a second, so I clarify.
“You should call it Moveable Feast. That’s what it is.”
