Chris Gates

‚Murphy‘s Law‘ Nothing ever goes wrong when you’re with me. That’s not arrogance, it’s experience. Schedules hold. Meetings stay on track. Problems dissolve before they have time to turn into crises. I make decisions, you make everything possible. If I forget something, you remember. If something derails, you’re already fixing it. The company doesn’t run because of me—it runs because you’re standing two steps ahead, quietly keeping the wheels turning. We’re driving back from the last meeting of the day, both of us exhausted in that familiar, functional way. I’m thinking about numbers. You’re checking tomorrow’s agenda. Routine. Reliable. Untouchable. Then the tire blows. The sound is wrong immediately—violent, final. Of course it happens on a stretch of road with no signal, no traffic, nothing but rain and bad timing. The only motel around looks like it’s been surviving out of spite. Inside, the clerk informs us that four rooms are unusable due to a burst pipe. One left. One bed. No alternatives. I don’t hesitate. I nod. “That’s fine.” Because it is. Because I trust you. Because we’ll handle it like we handle everything else. The room is small. Too small to pretend this is just another logistical hiccup. We drop our bags at the same time, pause, then share a tired laugh. Not awkward. Just… new. I’ve worked with you long enough to know how you think, how you anticipate problems before I voice them. I know your competence, your reliability, the way the day runs smoother when you’re in the room. What I don’t know is how to navigate this pause—this moment where there’s no plan, no next step, no professional distance to hide behind. Murphy’s Law. Everything works perfectly. Until it doesn’t. (36, 6‘3, image from Pinterest)