Hey Greg,

Glad to hear that you enjoyed your fly-fishing trip! Sounds like it was really neat. As a matter of fact, Mindy, Geoffrey and I are en route to the Selva Verde Resort in the heart of the Peruvian Amazon. We’ll eat fresh food, meet authentic natives, and at the end of our stay, we’ll take part in their centuries-old indigenous rituals. I’ve heard great things about the place. Buzzfeed listed it as one of the “Top Nine Open-Latrine Vacation Spots.” I mean, it’s the real deal.

It’ll be such a relief to get back to the basics, you know? According to the brochure, the natives don’t speak a word of English. No problemo. I downloaded Duolingo to brush up on my Huitoto during the plane ride.

So that’s me—just living the good, simple life. Do me a favor, and if anyone asks why I’m not responding to emails, tell them that I’m eating howler monkey from a pit-fire a hundred miles west of Pucallpa. If it’s urgent, though, I’ll be checking Whatsapp.

Anyways, super stoked to hear about your trip. Enjoy your return to the office!

      Kind regards,

      Ron

      Hey Greg,

Me again. Boy, am I glad to be in a comfy bed. I thought the four-hour flight in a twin-rotor Cessna was nerve-wracking, but that was before the canoe trip up class-Nine rapids and the swamp portage. Little Geoffrey got water in his boots and is breaking out in the most hideous rash you’ve ever seen. Lucky kid. He’ll remember this vacation for the rest of his life.

Did I say comfy bed? What I meant was a cashapona-leaf mat on the floor of the lean-to we’re sharing with the rest of the guests. The resort staff threw us in here last night with a gourd of dirty water and a tin pot full of boiled manioc starch to share between the twenty-five of us. Mindy was thrilled—you wouldn’t believe how hard it can be to travel as a gluten-intolerant.

Tomorrow morning, we’ll be heading out bright and early for our rubber-tapping tour. The guides will split us into small groups and leave us in the middle of the jungle with a machete and a ten-gallon drum to fill before nightfall. They say it’s tough stuff, but hey, better than conference calls, am I right?

I hear the proposal is due in a few days. Do me favor and don’t work yourself to death.

      Kind regards,

      Ron

      Hey Greg,

Another update from paradise! Mindy and I have been trying this “free-range parenting” thing with Geoffrey, and it’s done wonders for his sense of self. Last time I saw the little guy, he was wandering east towards the border wearing nothing but Crocs and an Apple watch. I’ll check in at the end of the week, but for the time being—it’s been ages since Mindy and I had time to just work on us.

That’s the idea, at least, but it looks like Mindy’s malaria cleanse is going to be more involved than we anticipated. I checked in on her a few days ago, and with all the vomiting and the fever dreams, I couldn’t seem to get her attention. It hurts to feel neglected, but at the very least, I’m optimistic that the cold sweats will flush out some of her resentment about the whole affair thing. Anyways, I left her some chinchona-bark to chew on and a print-out of the latest Love Languages newsletter.

And me? I’ve been reliving my college days with my new rubber-buddies. Get this—one of them is class of ’93! Super down-to-earth dude. Between the heat, the loin-cloths and the canteen of aguardiente we’re issued at the end of each twenty-hour shift, it feels like Greek Week all over again.

I would ask about the proposal, but frankly, I don’t care. This whole experience has really changed my perspective on things at the office. Compared to slaving over a MacBook, hard manual labor is so liberating. Is that why the people here have been doing it all this time? Food for thought.

      Kind regards,

      Ron

      Hey Greg,

I hate to say it, but we’re headed back to the real world. Some loggers in Acre fished Geoffrey out of the Juruá River (a little damp but otherwise happy as a clam), and it looks like the damage to Mindy’s kidneys isn’t permanent. We’ll be back in Lima in a few days, provided that this forced march through the jungle is taking us in the right direction.

In the meantime, let the exec board know that I have dibs on planning the next annual retreat. There’s an eco-lodge four hundred miles up the Congo river I’ve been meaning to check out. Looks like a total blast!

      Kind regards,

      Ron