You enter the restaurant. In the corner, a table of six men. One is talking loudly. The others are nodding. This is the Big Man table. The Big Man is not necessarily the oldest. He's not necessarily the richest. He's the one who decided he's in charge, and everyone agreed through silence. He's ordering for the table. He's choosing the wine. He's deciding when the conversation starts and stops. The others are his court. His audience. His validation engine. And the performance! The Big Man laughs loudest at his own jokes. He interrupts with "what I'm trying to say is" when nobody asked. He name-drops people who don't remember him. He pays the bill with the flourish of someone buying loyalty. The bill is the price of being seen as important. The court has roles. The Agreer. "Exactly! You are right!" The Laugher. "Hahaha! Big Man, you are too much!" The Silent One. Nodding, eating, calculating his escape. The New Guy. Trying to break in, trying to be noticed, trying to become part of the furniture. But the fragility! The Big Man needs the table more than the table needs him. Without the nods, the laughs, the agreement, he's just a man eating overpriced rice. The performance is exhausting. The performance is everything. Have you sat at the Big Man table? Or been the court? Or escaped?
