One Man’s Diagnosis of Biz Caz Blues, Part 2: Magnum P.I. and Biz Caz

I tapped lightly on the door with the big knuckle of my middle finger.  Dr. Susnow turned from his computer screen to face me.  He was wearing a sky-blue, long-sleeve cotton dress shirt.  He had short, curly brown hair that was receding a bit and a bushy mustache. 

I thought he resembled Magnum P.I. until he stood to greet me and I noticed that instead of cutoff jeans, he wore pleated khaki pants with a braided belt that held a cell phone holster with the cell phone, an empty Blackberry holster and a pager.  It was a rare hat trick of belt-supported electronica; a mid-manager’s tool belt, if you will.  He looked like what Magnum P.I. would have looked like if Magnum moved back to the mainland and got a job at Best Buy.

Dr. Susnow stood and shot his hand toward me.  “You must be Robert,” he said.  I hesitated.  I was still stuck on the fact that Magnum P.I. wore cutoff jeans.  I’d never thought about it until just now.  I wondered if Jeans Friday would evolve (or devolve, depending on one’s perspective) to the point where cutoff jeans are acceptable.

I finally reached out and shook the doctor’s hand.  “Just call me Rob,” I said.

 

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