The Acronym

by Io Hayden, Member #523

Frieda walked along, keeping to the narrow sidewalk, and she tried to avoid the onslaught of cars that whizzed by.  A wrinkled flier stuck out of her bulging purse. It said something about socializing and food.

She loved to eat, but could barely remember being able to afford an all-you can-eat restaurant. Pizza sounded delicious. For the chance to eat all the pizza she wanted, she might even try the included salad.  Frieda had a little money which was beyond wrinkled, and of course it lay on the bottom of her purse.

She wondered what AIM meant. For so long she had felt Angry, Impatient and Miserable. She thought it odd that a person might design a flier around this, especially one that included pizza.  But hunger and pizza are often excellent companions - she kept walking. It occurred to Frieda that AIM could be a radical right wing or left wing organization.  Maybe AIM defined a completely cute and nondescript group like Activists In Motion.  Doubtful.  The paper now had cookie crumbs on it, but no indication of movement.

Someone had said the place was a remodeled car dealership.  She thought about turning around because cars made her nerves jangle out loud.  Another drove by at an obscene rate of speed, and Frieda very nearly yelled at it in fright.  Remembering that drivers rarely see pedestrians, let alone hear them; she stepped closer to the ragged embankment.  Obviously the "A" in AIM stood for Automobiles, but she was still at a loss concerning the rest.  Frieda was almost there and certainly needed one.  She had reached the parking lot now, and thankfully she did not notice many cars; though there did seem to be lots of people.  She liked people.  Usually they liked her too - unless she was Angry, Impatient and Miserable.

Frieda took another tentative step forward and another...she had arrived!  People smiled a little bit, and one guy even called out hello.  He did this repeatedly though, so she decided he must just like saying the word.  A man was talking angrily to himself in falsetto:  “My health is mental and my sanity is not a rental!”  She heard the word "cigarette," and tightened up.  It had only been a week since she had quit smoking.  She still couldn’t think of it without a strange mixture of disgust and pleasure.  She was not sure if the cigarette was offered or asked for.  Not wanting to find out, Frieda hurried through the double glass doors.

Pizza, Pizza... she could smell the individual slices!  Hastily she reassembled her money into a pile resembling five dollars.  Two big sign in sheets covered the reception desk: one for visitors and another for members.  Wondering how much membership cost, she followed her nose. It would probably be all of her five dollars, she thought ruefully.  But today her money was on copious amounts of single slices. She played with the word "individual" in her head.  Yes, that must be it.  These hungry people were Against Individual Monopoly.  Oh, never mind - she was not even sure what that meant.  Besides, all her pizza must be getting cold.

On a long hall table were duplicates of the now completely lost flier in her purse.  Next to them was The AIM Advantage.  Blast.  The acronym again, and still no explanation of what it stood for.  Not sure if the newsletter was free, she passed it and sought the source of pizza.  Food always draws a crowd, and Frieda stepped into the long line behind a woman with tri-colored hair; and a man with an earring, tattoos and a bright red tie. The group did make a fashion statement, whatever it might be.  Briefly she considered Articles In Moderation because one young girl was wearing a top, one she doubtless thought of as tastefully skimpy.  She had come to the front of the line. Through with being silly and glad her turn had come at last, Frieda piled on two slices.  The all-you-can-eat sign was still visible.  Everyone around her chomped happily.

It was a couple of days before Valentine's Day.  The man with the bright red tie handed her a valentine that read, "We come forgiving, my dear, not for getting…”

"Welcome to the AIM Center,” said a voice next to her.  "We're so glad you joined us to celebrate our Achievement, Independence and Motivation."  Frieda had finally found her AIM.

Faithfully I remain,

Articulate, Incorrigible, and unable to find another word for Motivated.

Io Maria Hayden
Valentine's Day 2010
Member since July 1995, #523