The Heavy Wait Diaries: Chapter 6

This is an iHeart podcast.

In today's super competitive business environment, the edge goes to those who push harder, move faster, and level up every tool in their arsenal.

T-Mobile knows all about that.

They're now the best network, according to the experts at OoCla Speed Test, and they're using that network to launch Supermobile, the first and only business plan to combine intelligent performance, built-in security, and seamless satellite coverage.

That's your business, supercharged.

Learn more at supermobile.com.

Seamless coverage with compatible devices in most outdoor areas in the US where you can see the sky.

Best network based on analysis by OOCLA of Speed Test Intelligence Data 1H 2025.

There's more to San Francisco with the Chronicle.

More to experience and to explore.

Knowing San Francisco is our passion.

Discover more at sfchronicle.com.

This message is a paid partnership with AppleCard.

I was just at a theme park in Florida with my almost four-year-old.

Between enjoying the sunshine and the rides, the last thing I wanted to worry about was my wallet.

That's why AppleCard with Apple Pay saved my vacation.

One tap, a check-in, and I was off to see the attractions.

Every purchase from hot dogs and oh, we had hot dogs to t-shirts earned me daily cash.

Unlike Unlike waiting in line for a ride, there's no waiting until the end of the month for rewards.

And my daily cash is automatically deposited into the savings account I opened through Apple Card, where it earns interest.

With Apple Pays, secure technology built right into my iPhone and Apple Watch, I pay to shops, restaurants, and attractions without ever digging from my wallet.

The best part?

No fees, no hassles.

I spent less time managing my money and more time doing nothing short of epic.

Apply for Apple Card in the Wallet app on your iPhone.

Subject to credit approval.

Savings available to AppleCard owners, subject to eligibility.

Variable APRs for AppleCard range from 18.24% to 28.49% based on credit worthiness.

Rates as of July 1st, 2025.

Savings on AppleCard by Goldman Sanct Bank, USA, Salt Lake City Branch.

Member FDIC.

Terms and more at AppleCard.com.

Previously on Miller High Life presents the Heavyweight Diaries.

Can't wait to hear the first episode of the new season, I Have Nothing.

Timothy Nelson is our union representative.

Subway Sandwich.

Timothy Nelson.

I have nothing.

Are we all set for our listening party?

Timothy Nelson.

Gimlet's executive listening room is a darkened chamber with the deadened acoustics of a sarcophagus.

We all find our our seats.

Stevie and Khalila take the couch, and heavyweight union head, Timothy Nelson, commandeers a backwards office chair.

Nelson dons his careful listening face, a horrid affair that involves squinting his eyes, tilting his head beatifically, and, I can only assume, tightly puckering his colon.

Finally, Bloomberg drags his silver-plated Peloton bicycle into the center of the room.

Hope you don't mind if I take a spin while I take it all in, he says.

And Timothy Nelson lets loose a belly chuckle sycophantic enough to make my spermatic cord unraveled at great expense only weeks earlier re-ravel.

As much an enemy of capitalism as he was, Timothy Nelson still couldn't help kissing the ring.

And by ring I mean caboose.

Alex Bloomberg's executive ass caboose.

Nice one, chief, says Nelson, chasing after Bloomberg's two-wheeler to swat his foot in camaraderie.

Once the room settles down, I squint through the darkness.

Eight beady eyes stare back at me, expectant and unblinking, like a pack of rabid raccoons about to tear through a garbage bag full of content.

My only option is to stall.

I succeed in buying myself 10 minutes by accidentally rebooting my computer several times.

But the room is growing restless.

What is a heavyweight?

I ask.

A portmanteau composed of two separate words, heavy, meaning to exert a gravitational pull, and weight, something that can be hoisted, either in a curling motion or from a squatting position.

While my mouth jabbers on autopilot, my brain is in a terrible sweat.

Think, Johnny, think.

Stories, stories.

But of the billions of stories to steal and repurpose, only two come to mind.

The seminal kitty book Good Night Moon, in which a suicidal rabbit bids adieu to his earthly possessions, and that poem about footsteps in the sand.

Please give me something else, I beg my throbbing brain.

Good night, podcast, it whispers back.

Good night, healthcare.

Good night, Twitter followers.

But just as I'm about to initiate Plan B, tearing down the window curtains in a curtain-clutching fake heart attack worthy of Red Fox,

a third story enters my brain pan.

No, please, I scream, think.

Get out.

As I will later recount in increasing states of hysteria to increasingly expensive therapists, it's in this moment that my fate hops into a potato sack with Timothy Nelson's fate.

Before I even knew what I was saying, I was saying this.

The scene is set in an office elevator as one man tells the tale of sandwiches gone awry, if you will.

I laugh at my own joke to enforce its comedic properties.

I don't get it, says Stevie.

I think I do, says Kalila.

I shoot them a stern look and continue.

My girlfriend wanted a subway sandwich without olives, the man says.

And I wanted a subway sandwich with olives.

That's me, cries Timothy Nelson.

I am that man.

With a wave of my storytelling arm, I shush him down.

Ah, but with impish Liko, Slavic lord of Misrule helming the wheel of this supper wagon we call life, nothing is ever certain.

And so the man who desperately drooled for a sandwich with olives received the one without, while his lady friend, vigorously salivating for a sandwich without olives, received a sandwich with.

Will these star-crossed star-crossed sandwiches ever find their rightful sandwich eaters?

Well, why don't they just swap sandwiches?

asks Bloomberg.

Why, indeed, I wonder.

It's just as I'm about to admit defeat.

Admit that I have nothing.

Admit that like a half-baked sandwich bread made without yeast, this plotline has no rising action.

Admit that Yes, Alex, this is indeed the most asinine story ever told.

It is at this exact moment of my final comeuppance that Timothy Nelson grants me a kind of salvation.

My special lady is allergic to pickled peppers, pipes he, and my sandwich was populated by a peck of them.

And like the humble sandwich, so too is man, I say, already hearing the swell of orchestral music in my mind's ear.

Like sandwiches, are we not assembled according to a greater unknowable plan?

Who among us has not found themselves slathered in the mayonnaise of doubt, sliced in two by the breadknife of self-hatred, had our crusts removed by the attentive mother of anxiety?

Who among us will not be chewed up, devoured, and excreted before our time?

Out of the darkness, I see Timothy Nelson wipe a tear from his cheek.

So true, he says.

But what if that olive-burdened couple had the chance at a do-over, I continue, affecting the voice of a wizard casting a magic spell, and could confront the sandwich maker who got their orders so horribly wrong?

If you allow yourself to venture past the limits of your earthly imagination, try to envision what such a conversation might yield.

Bloomberg stops peddling his $3,000 wheelless bicycle, his attention wrapped.

Interviewing the subway sandwich artist who got the order wrong, he says.

Of course.

To offer the mustard of forbearance, I say.

The sweet tapanade of forgiveness.

Timothy Nelson is now openly blubbering.

Damn you and your storytelling, he weeps.

And for an added layer of narrative richness, I say, the man eavesdropping in the elevator was none other than than the host of heavyweight himself.

You were wearing earbuds, cries Nelson with incredulity.

And when I asked you how your weekend was, you ordered me to pipe down because you were listening to a podcast, but you weren't listening to a podcast at all.

Oh, but I was, I say, just one that was yet to be recorded.

Beautiful, says Bloomberg.

The symmetry is breathtaking.

In response, all of us in the room, dutifully quoting from the Gimlet Manifesto, recite in unison, symmetry divided by catharsis and multiplied by advertising dollars equals storytelling.

We all take deeply satisfying sips from the Miller highlights we've all been drinking and that I never mentioned until this moment.

You and Timothy will have to work together very closely on this one, Bloomberg says.

I'm seeing a co-reporting situation.

I don't know, I say.

Khalil and Stevie are always telling me that heavyweight's more of a one-man operation.

We could sell some product placement brand opportunities to Subway, Subway, says Bloomberg, steamrolling me.

And maybe you can also find out why Subway bread smells the way it does.

You mean smelling like if you put an armpit in a Betty Crocker easy bake oven and set it on high, I ask.

That smell?

I love the smell of Subway bread, says Timothy Nelson.

Bloomberg laughs and claps his hands together.

I'm just loving the banter here, he says.

I know we can put our political differences aside in the interest of creating some compelling content, says Timothy Nelson.

And then, for some reason, he extends his fist to me.

Uncertainly, I grab hold of it and shake.

I had saved the show.

But at what price?

This has been chapter 6 of the Heavyweight Diaries.

The next season of Heavyweight will begin in three weeks on September 26th.

Remember, September 26th is Spotify Day.

Actually, every day is Spotify Day, at least according to the corporate mantra we're forced to repeat every morning.

Heavyweight is me, Jonathan Goldstein, along with Jorge Just, Stevie Lane, Khalila Holt, and B.A.

Parker.

This episode was mixed by Emma Munger.

Music by Bobby Lord.

Our ad music is Vivaldi's Spring, performed by the Wichita State University Chamber Players.

We'll have a new chapter of the Heavyweight Diaries next week.

Ah, Smart Water Alkaline with Antioxidant.

Pure, crisp taste, perfectly refreshing.

Whoa, that is refreshing.

And a 9.5 plus pH.

For those who move, those who push further, those with.

A taste for taste.

Exactly.

I did take a spin class today after work.

Look at you.

Restoring like a pro.

I mean, I also sat down halfway through.

Eh, close enough.

Smartwater alkaline with antioxidant.

For those with a taste for taste, grab yours today.

Top reasons data nerds want to move to Ohio.

High-paying careers for business researchers, analysts, project managers, and more.

So many jobs, you can take your pick.

What else does the data say?

How about a bigger backyard, a shorter commute, and a paycheck that goes further?

So crunch the numbers and our world-famous pickles.

It all adds up.

The career you want, and a life you'll love.

Have it all in the heart of it all.

Dive into the data at callohiohome.com.

You've probably heard me say this.

Connection is one of the biggest keys to happiness.

And one of my favorite ways to build that, scruffy hospitality.

Inviting people over even when things aren't perfect.

Because just being together, laughing, chatting, cooking, makes you feel good.

That's why I love Bosch.

Bosch fridges with VitaFresh technology keep ingredients fresher longer, so you're always ready to whip up a meal and share a special moment.

Fresh foods show you care, and it shows the people you love that they matter.

Learn more, visit BoschHomeUS.com.

This is an iHeart podcast.