The intellectual equivalent of a ham sandwich.

Posts tagged ‘Du Jour of the Week’

Baby Board

Jim Francis was furious, the numbers that Dave Standton had reported looked bad. Very bad. The board’s care team was glancing amongst themselves, looking nervous. This was going to be a long meeting.

Thus far, the board meeting had proceeded without much chaos, but the horizon looked worrisome.

Standing up next to report on new products for the coming quarter, to hopefully reverse the tragedy that is the projected numbers for this quarter, was Jill Hargrove. Jill looked around the room, eyes unable to focus on anything, one eye going over there, now making direct eye contact, then quickly darting to stare at the lights in the room … a slight smile appeared on Jill’s face before disappearing and she began.

It was bad. There were no noteworthy new products, like Apple, the company was in a rut of marketing new versions of the same thing. But, unlike Apple, their customers tended to notice and be angry.

Jim’s forehead crinkled, his eyes narrowed, and then, there it was, his mouth opened wide and a loud, heart-wrenching scream pierced the room. A care team member jumped up and tried to get a pacifier into Jim’s mouth but he was too late, he was deep in the throws of his crying. Two other care team members came and, together, the three of them picked up Jim and rocked him until he calmed enough to get the pacifier. Calmed, he was put back into his leather office chair, and with the room quieted Jill continued while Jim sucked angrily on his pacifier, his eyes seemed shooting fire around the room.

This was no ordinary board of directors. Each of the directors, while intelligent, capable, and fully grown, also had the peculiar habit of acting like a newborn.

With one crisis down, another began, as Jill stopped speaking and began shaking her head vigorously side-to-side, mouth opening and closing as her arms began to flail about. Her thrashing was erratic, terrifying, and building momentum. Thankfully, one of her arms accidentally smacked into her head and she plopped back down into her chair while sucking on her knuckles. The care team was one step ahead this time, and they deftly plopped a bottle into Jill’s mouth while gently sliding her knuckles out of the way.

The meeting was, as far as these go, pretty productive. They had lasted seventeen minutes.

The care team moved Jim and Jill out of the room, wheeling them back to their offices. Dave stayed behind, he had fallen asleep. There was another meeting starting soon, but who could possibly wake him up to make that next meeting?, he looked so adorable.

Doctor Trump

If you were hoping to read about my baby, nah … it’s just me bashing Trump. I wrote this right after Charlottesville and DJ’s response. See if you can catch my oh so subtle opinion on the matter.

I’m sitting on the butcher paper, nervously rubbing my knee while checking my phone every 40 seconds or so. The doctor should be in any minute now to tell me the results of all the tests that have just been run.

The door opens and he glides in, holding himself to his full height and bearing a look on his face that says ‘I know something you don’t knoooooow.’

I search the doctor’s eyes and he looks down at me, beginning a series of remarks about what a great doctor he is, and how so many other doctors aren’t great, and also about how a lot of doctors think they’re good at tennis but really they’re not that good at tennis. ‘Believe me,’ he says, ‘I belong to a tennis club. These guys. They’re no tennis.’

‘Doc, please!’ I exclaim against my desire to be patient and cordial, ‘what do I have? Is it bad?’

He smirks, then raises his eyebrows, then lifts his chin so he undoubtedly sees more of his nose than he sees my face, and he says, ‘Look, I’m not going to lie, it’s bad. You’ve got on the one side, maybe cancer, and on the other side, maybe a bad headache. They’re just words. Whatever it is, they’re bad.’

My jaw drops. ‘Doc … I … There’s a HUGE difference between cancer and a big headache … Which … What do I have?’

‘Your words, ok. Your words.’ The doctor looks around the room like he’s debating remodeling the place, and perhaps me, he smacks his lips and continues, ‘It’s bad, ok? I’m not here to say which is worse, either way it’s bad. You’ve got one bad thing on one side, another bad thing on the other side.’

My brain nearly shuts off I’m so overwhelmed by rage and confusion, ‘…CANCER. HEADACHE.’

The doc purses his lips, smiles a little, ‘both bad,’ he says as he turns around and walks out the room.

 

Go For It!

I know, I know, you’re still feeling a little cautious. That’s fine! I’m here to answer your questions to alleviate some of your concerns. Then, you’ll be able to Go For It! with confidence!

Question: Are you sure? Should I really go for it?
Answer: Did I stutter? God. Pay attention.

Question: Will others think less of me?
Answer: Am I some kind of mind reader? I have no idea what others will think. Yeah, they might, or maybe they won’t, whatever.

Question: Are there any risks to my personal safety?
Answer: Yikes. What are you thinking about doing??? Maybe don’t go for it?

Question: How much will it cost?
Answer: Your money is meaningless to me.

Question: What happens if I start down this path and then change my mind?
Answer: I didn’t realize I was dealing with someone so fickle. Get out of my face.

Now that all your questions are answered, you have the confidence to go forth with style, pizzaz, and maybe even finesse! I couldn’t care less!