The Floating Feldmans

A family vacation dredges up a boatload of trouble in the next witty, insightful novel from the acclaimed author of The Intermission.

"An irresistible drama filled with humor and heart-tugging emotion about family and what it means to belong. I absolutely adore Friedland's warm, witty writing!"—Emily Giffin, #1 New York Times bestselling author of All We Ever Wanted

Sink or swim. Or at least that's what Annette Feldman tells herself when she books a cruise for her entire family. It's been over a decade since the Feldman clan has spent more than twenty-four hours under the same roof, but Annette is determined to celebrate her seventieth birthday the right way. Just this once, they are going to behave like an actual family.

Too bad her kids didn't get the memo.

Between the troublesome family secrets, old sibling rivalries, and her two teenage grandkids, Annette's birthday vacation is looking more and more like the perfect storm. Adrift together on the open seas, the Feldmans will each face the truths they've been ignoring—and learn that the people they once thought most likely to sink them are actually the ones who help them stay afloat.Praise for The Floating Feldmans

“When Annette Feldman decides to celebrate her 70th birthday with a family cruise, drama—and hilarity—ensue.”—People

"Family reunions can rock the boat. This one does it on a cruise ship. When the Feldmans hit the high seas for their matriarch's 70th, a lot of drama and laughs come out in tight quarters. Think: "This is Where I Leave You" meets "The Family Stone."—The Skimm

"The Floating Feldmans is a hilarious romp on the sea that is perfect for your poolside reading this summer! I read this book with a wide grin, and I know that you will too! Highly recommend!"—Catherine McKenzie, bestselling author of I'll Never Tell and Spin

"Friedland uses multiple perspectives, witty dialogue, and complex characters that are incredibly relatable to deliver a funny, astute look at the family dynamic and the relationships shared within. Whether on a cruise or taking a staycation, contemporary readers will want to have The Floating Feldmans on deck."—Booklist

“The Floating Feldmans is a fast, funny, surprisingly heartwarming ride on the high seas.”—Shelf Awareness

"Friedland creates vivid characters with distinct voices, from the outwardly critical matriarch to the insecure teenager. The story is at its best when the whole family is together, allowing their individual personalities to bounce off one another. There's also some sharp commentary about the pitfalls of cruises, and even readers who've never been on one will feel positively claustrophobic as they read about the cramped cabins the Feldmans stay in. A fun look at family drama on the open seas."—Kirkus

"The Floating Feldmans is a story about an estranged family's wild vacation. This book is so dramatic, that it might actually make your fam feel normal...even if you're losing your mind on day five of your own trip.”—Cosmopolitan

“Long a master of insightful books about modern life and relationships, Friedland turns her formidable talents to the family cruise.  Uproariously funny, yet heartfelt and true, The Floating Feldmans will have each reader seeing her own family fun and foibles in the choppy waters, laughing and crying at the same time to the very last wonderful page.”—Pam Jenoff, New York Times bestselling author of The Lost Girls of Paris

“An intelligent, insightful, touching novel about the secrets we keep and the family that loves us anyway.”—Abbi Waxman, author of The Bookish Life of Nina Hill

"Elyssa Friedland's premise is perfect. Take three generations of an estranged family, put them on a boat—a forced cruise to celebrate the matriarch's 70th birthday—and let the dysfunction fly. A pleasure to read."—Laurie Gelman, author of Class Mom

“Such a smart, honest look at the modern American family. Elyssa Friedland has written a book that feels both up-to-the-minute contemporary and, somehow, absolutely timeless.”—Matthew Norman, author of We’re All Damaged and Domestic Violets

"All aboard! The Floating Feldmans is for everyone whose ever thought their family is absolutely crazy … but loves them anyway. Sibling rivalries and skeletons in the closet all come to a head in this fun, quirky family saga."—Georgia Clark, author of The Bucket List

“The Floating Feldmans was a blast; funny, moving, and immensely readable. Friedland’s all-you-can-eat buffet of quirky characters walk right off the page and into your heart.”—Jonathan Evison, author of This is Your Life Harriet Chance!

"Take a big dysfunctional family, reunite them for the first time in 10 years on a Caribbean cruise ship they can’t escape, and add endless buffets, blindfolded pie-eating contests, and impromptu conga lines on the sundeck. What could possibly go wrong? Both cruising fans and skeptics alike will get a laugh out of this story of a family trying to stay afloat."—National Geographic

"Friedland’s well-executed and smartly structured novel features chapters from each character’s point of view. The simple but clever premise lets the author explore the complicated tensions of family relationships in a compressed and directed way...there is dry humor and a certain sweetness as well."—Library Journal

Praise for The Intermission

"The snappy dialogue makes this an effortless page-turner, almost a movie treatment more than a novel…intelligent commercial fiction.”—The Wall Street Journal

“The Intermission is a thoughtful look at the complexities of marriage, delivering deep truths about how we share a life with another person. It will have you wondering: how well do I really know my spouse?”—PopSugar
 
“A multifaceted look at the difficulties and rewards of marriage.”—Kirkus Reviews
  
“Entertaining marriage saga... Friedland insightfully dissects motives, lies, and love in this engrossing deconstruction of a bad marriage.”—Publishers Weekly

"Expertly paced and eerily realistic, this novel will make readers think twice about the line between deception and mystery in any relationship.”—Booklist 

“This fast-paced read will have you turning pages all night to see if Cass and Jonathan will be able to save their marriage.”—Salisbury Daily Times
 
“In a time when open relationships and other less traditional dynamics are becoming more common, this is a fun beach read that explores the many ways we can love and be loved.”—Mind Body Green
 
“We all know that relationships aren’t always what they seem on the outside. But The Intermission takes things a step further, going inside of a marriage that’s on the rocks. It’s about Jonathan and Cass, a husband and wife that decide to take a six-month break from their relationship to see if it’s what they really want. As we all know, there are two sides to every story. And through alternating perspectives, The Intermission delivers both.”—Hello Giggles

“Through her wonderful writing and pitch-perfect storytelling, Elyssa Friedland examines how far we would or should go to salvage a marriage. This book is smart, tender and thought-provoking. I loved it.”—Allison Winn Scotch, New York Timesbestselling author of Between Me and You

"With precision and empathy, Elyssa Friedland offers a fresh take on a timeless question: Just how honest should you really be with your spouse? The Intermission is a smart, moving, and refreshingly candid examination of the way small omissions can lead to enormous rifts in a marriage. I couldn’t put it down.” —Camille Pagán, bestselling author of Woman Last Seen in Her Thirties
 
"Friedland's engaging characters and smart writing style will hook you from the first page. Soulful and bittersweet, The Intermission puts a young couple under a microscope to show how one small crack in a marriage can lead to many crevasses, and how the struggle to put the pieces back together can seem insurmountable."—Julie Lawson Timmer, author of Mrs. Saint and the Defectives

"The Intermission deftly pulls apart the puzzle of one couple's marriage and lays the pieces bare, posing the question: would you walk away from your marriage in order to save it? A provocative, insightful look at the intricacies of marriage, the role of fate, and the unpredictable nature of love."—Jamie Brenner, bestselling author of The Husband Hour

“Smart, captivating, and expertly crafted, The Intermission takes a fresh spin on how one couple hits the pause button to reboot their marriage. I cheered and I cringed through their rises and falls as they dealt with the obstacles in their marriage to rediscover themselves and their relationship. A delightful read that sucked me in. Perfect for book clubs and summer reading. I highly recommend.” — Kerry Lonsdale, Wall Street Journal bestselling author

“With all the drama and intensity of live theater, Elyssa Friedland puts a seemingly solid marriage on display — and through the toughest of tests — revealing quirky flaws, unraveling dark secrets, and sparking emotions from tenderness to fury. Fans of Sarah Dunn and Taylor Jenkins Reid will relish the raw honesty and high-stakes tension as the pasts of Cass and Jonathan come roaring into the present.”—Amy Poeppel, author of Limelight
 
"A pitch-perfect beach read that pulls back the curtain on what really happens after we say I do."—Jo Piazza, bestselling author of Charlotte Walsh Likes to Win

“The Intermission digs into the bedrock of the Coyne's marriage, exposing the strengths and vulnerabilities of its roots. Friedland builds characters who are both selfless and selfish at different times, resulting in a relatable and compelling read. Book clubs will have much to dissect.”—Abby Fabiaschi, author of I Liked My Life
 
"Taking a pause to dissect what makes a marriage tick is terrifying, enlightening, and, in the case of Cass Coyne, even hilarious....With observations both acute and quirky, Elyssa Friedland points out the flaws and perfections that make marriage work, the secrets they contain, and how a desire for total honesty can bring both pain and freedom."—Maureen Sherry, author of Opening Belle

"A courageous and clever look at the frustrations and disappointments even the best marriages face. Elyssa Friedland pulls no punches with this provocative story that challenges our expectations about commitment and love."—Lynda Cohen Loigman, author of The Two-Family House

“I absolutely loved The Intermission, a smart, thoughtful exploration of the nature of marriage and relationships."—Brenda Janowitz, author of The Dinner Party

Praise for Love and Miss Communication
 
"Witty and hilarious...a love story for the 21st century."—Emily Giffin, New York Times bestselling author
 
"Funny, fast-paced, charming."—Jennifer Belle, bestselling author of High Maintenance and The Seven Year Bitch
 
"A witty, wonderful, and thoroughly modern love story. Friedland's writing is sharp and funny, tender and true. I couldn't put it down."—Cristina Alger, author of The Darlings
 
"A delicious and timely novel. Friedland takes a look at how our addiction to social media brings us together while keeping us apart."—Molly Jong-Fast, author of The Social Climber's Handbook
 
"A witty, modern love story not to be missed."—The Gazette (Iowa)Elyssa Friedland is the acclaimed author of Last Summer at the Golden Hotel, The Floating Feldmans, The Intermission and Love and Miss Communication. Elyssa is a graduate of Yale University and Columbia Law School and currently teaches novel writing at Yale. She lives with her husband and three children in New York City, the best place on earth.***This excerpt is from an advance uncorrected copy proof***

Copyright © 2019 Elyssa Friedland

 

It started with a shriek. Then a series of gasps. Finally, from somewhere deep in the room, came a chorus of “Fight, fight, fight!” The chant quickly grew in volume, and suddenly it seemed like everyone was shouting for blood.

“Ladies and gentlemen, may I please have your attention!” Julian Masterino attempted to calm the chaos for a third time, but he was no match for the angry rabble. From his perch on the bandstand, they looked like a swarm of flies, circling and buzzing in a cacophonous roar. Normally Julian’s uniform, a fitted white sailor’s jumper and his ever-present megaphone, was enough to will a hush over a rambunctious crowd. But tonight, in a black tuxedo, he blended in with everyone else on the ship. To make matters worse, the volume lever on his megaphone was broken. Meanwhile, babies wailed in high chairs, the elderly guests whined from motorized scooters, and the able-bodied adults dashed about in their formal wear vying for a better look at the crime scene. The leader of the barbershop quartet, the evening’s opening act, gazed desperately at Julian from under his bowler hat and plucked a few helpless chords in C on his banjo. Julian gave him the universal symbol for “not now,” a quick slash to the neck, and he quieted down.

The paramedic team skidded onto the dance floor, propelled into the scrum of people by the weight of equipment they probably wouldn’t need. To Julian’s practiced eye, the two gentlemen who had, moments earlier, been throwing punches at each other were not the sort of people for whom violence was a preferred method of conflict resolution. They were amateurs at best—and the injuries they had sustained were undoubtedly more to their psyches than physical. Still, the older guy was on the ground, blood running from his nose. It was time to clear the room.

But how could it be done? Julian was a seasoned pro, but even he had never tried a last-minute relocation of three thousand hungry diners. Short of an iceberg, he’d never envisioned a scenario that would require such a thing. And now, faced with a ship full of guests determined to ignore his instructions, there weren’t a lot of good options left. Julian could think of only one surefire way to regain command of his people. Throwing caution to the wind, he reached for his megaphone and pressed firmly on the talk button.

“Attention, all guests aboard the Ocean Queen. The main buffet and all-night ice cream bar on the Starboard Deck will be closed until further notice.”

A shocked hush immediately dropped over the crowd, and Julian smiled to himself.

“That’s not fair,” complained an anguished mother of three. “My kids are still hungry!”

Hungry? On average, passengers aboard the Ocean Queen consumed six thousand calories per day, sitting down to no less than five full meals. The midmorning “snack” consisted of pastries, a full salad bar, and a taco station. Afternoon tea was the least dainty meal Julian had ever laid eyes on. Instead of finger sandwiches and bite-size lemon tarts, the kitchen staff put out twelve-foot loaves of streusel from which the guests could hack off as much as they liked. And, as far as Julian could tell, they liked a lot of streusel.

“This is an all-inclusive ship,” barked a burly fellow who stood to the left of the bandstand. He had accessorized his tuxedo with a bolo tie and cowboy hat and was already working his way through a plate piled high with meat. “And we all know you save the best food for the formal night!”

Julian was prepared to promise an impromptu chocolate fountain and make-your-own-sushi opportunity, if only everyone would exit in an orderly fashion. But before he could position his megaphone, an attractive older woman stood up and addressed the crowd. She had been crouching on the floor, tending to the more senior of the two bloodied combatants—the sad-faced man who was now cradling his knee. Julian couldn’t help but admire the way the woman presented herself: She wore a beautiful blue satin gown that stretched forgivingly across her wide hips and her hair was swept into a precise chignon.

“What is wrong with you people?” she shouted, her voice impressive and thunderous. “From the minute you woke up this morning, you’ve been stuffing your faces, pushing and shoving in the buffet lines like you’ve never seen a croissant before. Get a grip on yourselves. My husband was just punched in the face by my son-in-law, who has apparently hated our family for the past twenty years.”

“That’s not true,” said the other erstwhile combatant in a breathy voice as he was lifted onto a stretcher by the paramedics. This second, younger man was obviously the bitter son-in-law. “It’s just . . . you guys . . . acting juvenile . . . and I . . .”

“You do not need to defend yourself!” belted a younger woman in a pink dress who stood beside the man’s stretcher. She stared daggers at the ballsy lady in the blue satin and said, “Mitch has nothing to apologize for, Mother.”

Holy hell. A dueling mother-daughter ensemble was certainly not needed on the night that was meant to be the crescendo of the trip, the black-tie party known as An Enchanted Evening, which would set the tone for how generous the guests would be when parceling out gratuities. And if they weren’t opening their wallets widely, Julian would be hearing about it from everyone on the staff, from the lifeguards down to the porters, the whole crew blaming him for not keeping the guests happy.

“Everyone, listen to the cruise director, and get off of this deck now,” yelled the mother. Then the daughter chimed in: “You will be fed. You will have your formal night. You will be ‘enchanted,’ for heaven’s sake. Just let the doctors attend to my husband in peace.”

“Mom? Elise? What the hell is going on?” asked a middle-aged man as he pushed through the crowd. The newcomer had graying hair tied in a bun, and, as Julian couldn’t help noticing, his outfit did not conform to the night’s dress code requirement. He was tugging on the hand of a human Barbie doll teetering along in four-inch heels. Julian blinked twice. This overly made-up girl wearing a dress that could have doubled as an Ace bandage was none other than the amazing yogini he’d met in Ashtanga class earlier that day.

A picture was forming in Julian’s mind. This was the Feldman family. He vaguely remembered chatting with them at the around-the-world dinner the night before, and he’d seen the daughter—her name was Elise—just hours earlier in the coffee shop. They were all on board to celebrate a big birthday. If memory served him correctly, they were vacationing together in honor of the matriarch in blue.

Julian hated to see things like this happen on one of his trips, and not just because it meant reduced gratuities and filing extra paperwork with the corporate office. It truly broke his heart when a family with grand plans to bond and share quality time was reduced to blows and name-calling. This wasn’t the first time it had happened. And it wouldn’t be the last. Maybe it was the fact that passengers on cruise vacations were sequestered from the outside world—and that submerged feelings were bound to surface whenever people volunteered to isolate themselves. Or maybe it was the consistent low-level nausea they experienced at sea that activated bad behavior. Julian had one theory, originally espoused by the ship’s previous captain, that involved those motion sickness patches everyone stuck behind their ears: He posited that they actually worked like hearing aids, amplifying all the irritations that normally went unnoticed.

Julian’s assistant, Lindsay, approached him from behind and whispered something in his ear. He smiled, knowing the immediate crisis had been solved.

“Attention, all passengers,” Julian said, clearing his throat for emphasis and raising his megaphone once again. “A free drink will be provided to all guests who relocate to the Mariposa Ballroom on the Discovery Deck.”

It was like shouting “fire” in a crowded room. The adults grabbed their children by the wrists, gave their elder counterparts a firm push at the back of their wheelchairs, and set out dutifully to secure their complimentary cocktail. The Ocean Queen was an all-inclusive ship when it came to food and most onboard activities, but alcohol was strictly pay-to-play.

Once the room was cleared of everyone except himself, the Feldmans, and a few overzealous paramedics, it was terribly quiet.

“Is there anything I can do?” Julian asked. He approached the family cautiously, stationing himself directly in between the two stretchers. His role in these situations could vary greatly. He could be anything from therapist to ice pack bearer, arbitrator, or bouncer. Sometimes all he needed was to present a voucher for a complimentary land excursion, and the entire family was able to put aside their squabbling in deference to the freebie.

It was hard to read the Feldmans, though. The older woman was tough. He could tell from her rant. The daughter, Elise, was just as voluble but far less confident—she fell a little more on the hysterical side of the spectrum. The rest of the family? Julian couldn’t make heads or tails of the dynamic there.

“We’re sorry for the trouble,” the elder Mrs. Feldman said to Julian, looking mortified as she tended to her husband’s busted nose.

“You and Dad started it,” Elise snapped.

“Let’s not worry about blame now,” Julian said. “I just want to make sure everyone is feeling well enough to enjoy the remainder of the trip.” And that I don’t need to throw anyone in the brig, he thought to himself.

The teenage girl bent over Mitch on stretcher #2, and Julian was relieved to see signs of life in her vacant face.

“Sweetie,” Mitch said, rolling with great effort onto his side to access the wallet in his pocket. “Take a few twenties and go with your brother to the arcade.”

The girl started combing through a wad of bills.

“No! No money!” Elise roared, grabbing the wallet away from her. “We have no money to spare. Zero. And honestly, Rachel, your father probably dislocated his shoulder and is clearly in agony. Your grandfather is also in serious pain. How can you be so selfish?”

Man-Bun stepped forward gallantly.

“Rachel, here’s two hundred. Take Darius and go.” The blonde on stilts looked at him like he was Jesus and Mother Teresa rolled into one.

“Take it, Rachel,” the grandfather said firmly from stretcher #1. “You kids need to clear out of here.”

“Over my dead body!” said Elise. “No one wants your drug money, Freddy!”

Drug money? Julian stared at Freddy, imagining bags of cocaine hidden all over the ship. He felt a prickle of nervous sweat beginning to form at his hairline and debated asking one of the paramedics to take his blood pressure. But no, he needed to stay in command.

Who was this family? The Ocean Queen regularly attracted a motley crew, but its passengers’ foibles were, for the most part, the extremely visible kind. Like with the BDSMers—everyone basically knew who they were, especially Housekeeping, who had to step over the gags and harnesses on the cabin floor every morning. The Feldmans, on the other hand, were outfitted like schoolteachers chaperoning the prom. All except Freddy, but that didn’t make him any less of an enigma. He had an aging Jimmy Buffett sort of vibe; he looked far more like a goofy beer snob with a trophy girlfriend than a drug dealer.

“Let’s not get excited again,” Julian said, slipping into the therapist role. “Why don’t we let the paramedics finish their job, and then I’m sure you can all calmly discuss everything in a more intimate setting. I’d be happy to offer you one of our private dining rooms—we can set up a cheese plate and a few bottles of good burgundy, absolutely free of charge.” Julian couldn’t have these crazy people airing their (potentially criminal) dirty laundry all over the Ocean Queen. He’d get crushed on TripAdvisor.

“I think it’s probably best if you just leave us alone now,” said Freddy’s too-young girlfriend. As the words left the girl’s pillow lips, Elise’s face contorted in rage.

“And I think that you don’t get to have an opinion,” Elise shouted at the younger woman. “You aren’t even a member of this family!”

Julian could tell that, for Mrs. Feldman, this exchange was the last straw. She stepped in between Freddy and Elise, who were obviously about to go a few rounds themselves, and said, “Everyone: Cut it out. This is my birthday celebration. We will all get along for the next twenty-four hours or else.”

Mrs. Feldman hadn’t actually raised her voice during this little speech, but the intensity of feeling behind her words was clear. A seam in her blue gown had ripped from the sheer force of her heaving bosom.

Julian took a sudden step back. Shouting, blood, threats, raised fists. It wasn’t what he’d call a successful night aboard ship. And he’d done all he could to simmer things down. If free food and alcohol couldn’t help the Feldman clan, they were perhaps beyond repair. He quietly slipped out of the room and headed toward his own cabin on the staff floor, which was below sea level, leaving the warring family members on deck to berate each other until sunrise.

Boat life was a matter of simple rinse and repeat. Eat, argue, bingo. Eat, argue, show. Eat, argue, excursion. And then eat some more. If he didn’t see the Feldmans at breakfast the next morning—if the feud was enough to overtake their appetites—he’d know they were in real trouble.

 

 

Part I

The Call

 

Chapter One

When the call came for Elise Feldman Connelly, she was in Costco.

Elise—mother, wife, friend, shopper—eyed the checkout lines from her spot in the outdoor furniture aisle, which were growing even longer as she studied them. She hated queuing in stores, all that extra time to ponder the contents of her cart with the twin forces of desire and guilt. She should know better than to go to Costco on a Sunday, when the lines were always eternal. Maybe she’d put her cart aside, ask her favorite store manager, Jeff, to watch her stuff, and then return tomorrow when she could swipe and dash. But no, then the thrill would be gone.

How Elise craved that soaring spike in adrenaline that shot pins and needles to her extremities and sent butterflies to her stomach. She sighed and looked back at her cart, fighting off the urge to calculate. The total couldn’t be much. She had tossed in maybe eight or nine hardcovers at most, three frozen cakes, a few packages of T-shirts for Darius, and a bunch of sports bras she’d need now that she’d signed up for ClassPass. Underneath, reading glasses, an electric screwdriver, a terry cloth robe, rubber flip-flops for the whole family (they appeared to run small so she’d chosen two sizes for everyone), new cutting boards, a set of knives, a Magic Bullet, a yoga mat, a George Foreman that looked more advanced than her current George Foreman, and a delicate fourteen-karat gold necklace for Rachel. Plus the faux ficus tree that was being held for her at the register.

“Elise,” came a familiar voice barreling toward her. She felt her pulse quicken, that brief pleasant feeling of being recognized in a crowded place. She turned around to find Jeff, her Costco bestie, driving a flatbed down the wide aisle.

“You look like you found some good stuff today,” he said, throwing an approving nod toward her cart.

“Not sure I’m going to take it all,” she responded, watching Jeff’s smile slide into a droop. “I probably will, though.” And like that, his expression lit up again. He didn’t work on commission. No Costco employees did—she’d once looked it up. Perhaps she and Jeff just shared something, a special satisfaction from knowing items were going to be purchased, bagged, put into a trunk, and taken to a new home. It was like a form of adoption—making things into possessions.

She was probably the first person to wax poetic in a discount big-box store. But she had a million dizzying thoughts tunneling through her mind that needed expression or she’d have a stroke. And these thoughts, they were like dough going through a pasta maker (she owned three), coming out in ribbons. There. She’d managed two euphemisms in one breath, putting a pretty face on both her crippling addiction and her runaway mind.

“Elise.” Jeff’s voice again. While she was lost in her reverie, he’d come off his perch and was standing rather close to her. She wanted to ask him to let her sit in the truck so she could see the aisles from a different vantage point, but she hadn’t worked up the nerve yet. “I’m not supposed to tell anybody, but the mesh shorts you buy for your son are going ninety-seven cents this afternoon.”

Prices at Costco ending in ninety-seven cents. It was the holy grail of shopping at the big-box retailer. It meant a product was getting discontinued and therefore going on sale. Elise felt an actual shiver running down her spine, forcing her to twitch with nervous energy. Had they just cranked the air? Or was that simply her body’s visceral reaction to commerce, her raison d’être of the past year? She glanced at her watch, an irresistible Apple with a white band for which she’d waited in line for nearly six hours like a teenager staking out concert tickets.

“It’s only another two hours,” Jeff said, sensing her hesitation. “We’re about to set up a frozen pizza station. You could eat lunch here while you wait.” It was thoughtful of Jeff to consider that it was lunchtime. When was the last time her husband had checked to see if she’d eaten? She was so used to being the caretaker that the very suggestion from another human that she do something for herself made her eyes sting with tears.

Elise considered what waited for her at home. Her son, Darius, was out with friends, so she couldn’t harass him about the college stuff, and Mitch was at work, like