surgewriter
Daniel Okafor has never lost a job, never lost an argument, and never once decided anything for himself. Four employers picked him up when their own bosses moved on. A marriage happened to him, competently. A layoff missed him entirely - not because he fought for his desk, but because nobody thought hard enough about him to take it away.
He isn't unhappy. That's the trouble. He is adequate - at work, at love, at fatherhood - in the specific, unglamorous way that never quite earns the word failure, and never quite earns anything else either.
This is a book about the people luck forgets to punish. About competence as a hiding place. About a man who sets three alarms every morning because making one decision has always felt like one too many - and who is only now, at forty-two, starting to notice that he has never once chosen his own life. He has simply floated through it.
Some men sink. Daniel just drifts - and the tide, it turns out, has opinions of its own.