So, I was out the other day, you know, just wandering around, probably trying to put off doing some actual chores I had lined up. And of course, I had my phone out, playing that game where you, well, catch things with balls. There was this one particular critter, super elusive, been trying to snag it for what felt like ages. My palms were actually a bit sweaty, no joke. It was one of those moments.
I remember tossing ball after virtual ball. This thing was a real pain, constantly jumping, swatting my attempts away like they were annoying flies. I was getting properly frustrated, almost at that point where you just give up and, I don’t know, go do the dishes or something equally dreadful just to change the scenery. Then, finally, one of those pokeballs wobbled… once… then twice… held my breath… three times… and click! Caught it! Yes! I actually did a little fist pump in the air, probably looked like a right idiot to anyone who might have been watching. But in that moment, I didn’t care.
Felt pretty good, you know? Like a real accomplishment, a tiny victory in the day. But the thing about that specific “pokeball caught” moment, the one I still remember quite clearly, wasn’t just about the digital creature I’d finally managed to bag. It was what happened right after, or rather, what I suddenly realized because of it.
See, while I was so intensely focused on my little screen, flicking my finger to throw those virtual balls, I’d completely zoned out of where I actually was, physically. Turns out, in my dedicated pursuit, I’d drifted right into the middle of Mrs. Henderson’s prize-winning rose garden. Now, Mrs. Henderson is my neighbor, a generally sweet old lady, but she is fiercely, and I mean fiercely, protective of those roses. And there she was, standing on her porch, arms crossed, giving me the kind of stare that could curdle milk. Not exactly angry, more… profoundly disappointed. Like I was a toddler she’d just caught drawing on her pristine white walls with a permanent marker.
That triumphant “pokeball caught” feeling suddenly deflated a bit. I’d caught my digital prize, sure, but I’d also been “caught” red-handed, or rather, red-faced, trampling through her floral sanctuary. We had a bit of an awkward chat right there amongst the blooms. I apologized profusely, she tutted a bit, shook her head, and then, bless her, she actually offered me a glass of lemonade. She even said my dedication to “whatever that doo-hickey game is on your phone” was almost admirable, if only it wasn’t potentially destructive to her prize petunias (I hadn’t even seen the petunias, whoops, too focused on the catch).
It’s funny, isn’t it? Sometimes you get so wrapped up in these little digital wins, these small fleeting achievements, you completely forget to look up and see the bigger picture around you. That “pokeball caught” moment for me? It ended up being more about getting caught myself, and then, surprisingly, actually having a real, genuine conversation with a neighbor I usually just exchanged quick waves with. Maybe I needed to get caught by her to actually connect a bit more in the real world.
And That Got Me Thinking…
It reminds me of this one time, a totally different situation, but it had that same kind of vibe, you know? I was working at this old job, right? Super stressful environment. My boss at the time was a bit of a nightmare, to put it mildly. Always asking for things at the very last minute, constantly changing his mind about what he wanted. Classic stuff, really. I was trying so hard to “catch” his approval, always going the extra mile, staying late, basically bending over backwards. I genuinely thought if I just “caught” that one big project successfully, or got that one specific piece of praise from him, everything would magically click into place. I even had a mental list of things I thought would impress him:
- Always finish reports way ahead of any deadline.
- Enthusiastically volunteer for the difficult tasks no one else wanted to touch.
- Never, ever complain, no matter how unreasonable things got.
Well, I eventually did it. I landed this huge client for the company. Put in an absolutely insane number of hours, sacrificed weekends, the whole nine yards. “Pokeball caught,” right? I was practically expecting a parade in my honor, or at least a significant pat on the back. Instead, my boss just kind of grunted when I told him, mumbled a quick “good,” and then immediately piled on three more incredibly demanding and almost impossible tasks. No bonus, not even a proper thank you, nothing. It hit me then: I’d “caught” the prize I was chasing, but I was still stuck in the same bad game, with a boss who clearly didn’t value the effort. I was “caught” in a frustrating, unrewarding cycle.
So, that day in Mrs. Henderson’s rose garden, getting “caught” myself right after my little game “catch,” it was a much lighter, more humorous version of that feeling, but it still made me stop and think. Sometimes getting caught, or just remembering to look up after the catch, is way more important than the catch itself. It makes you see what’s really around you. Or sometimes, it makes you see what you’re really caught up in, for better or worse.
Anyway, I still play that game occasionally. It’s a bit of fun. But now, I consciously try to look up a bit more often. Especially when I’m anywhere near prize-winning roses, you can bet on that. And I definitely keep an eye out for who might be watching me make the catch, if you know what I mean. It’s all about what you’re really catching in life, or sometimes, what’s catching you when you least expect it.
