A coworker with an impressive resume casually invited me to their combined birthday party. Though the invite counter over 100 people going, I thought I should go, for the sake of maybe personal, more likely professional relationships.

To my surprise, they still lease houses large enough for 100+-people parties in prime Manhattan, and they filled this one with bulk packs of beer and hard seltzer and basically no furniture.

An ex-coworker, who left for a different startup, arrives. Though they have a common name, I still need a second to dig it up from my memory. I gradually enter their circle, and the ex-coworker, bottle of truth serum in hand, introduces everyone. The ex-coworker introduces me as “Justin, who I used to work with”.

Justin would correct them gracefully.

Justin would work the room.

Justin would stay and have a great time.

I'm not Justin. I leave to continue my quest for a great taco in Manhattan.