This is one of the seven banned words that scream through my head as Arrogant Bob from accounting strolled in with a per diem denial for my next seminar roadie. As I try to balance my chi, the overactive mind begins to ramble.
Why do I always have to play banker? Why does Bob have to be so freaking smug? Why does his left ear freak me out? I can’t get over that warped sense of self-worth. I keep staring at him. I wonder what the hell happened to him in college. Why is everyone silent? One quick snipe will wipe that self-satisfied glare he struts around with off his face. Why doesn’t he just pat me on the back and show a bit of empathy? Bring me a Starbucks? Or maybe just a simple interoffice memo.
Back to point. What’s wrong with a $200 stipend to get me through the week? A little greasing of the palms is hard to expense after all. Geez, this is where I am supposed to embrace stress, learning to actively surround it with balancing and compensating activities. Isn’t that the company line?
Balancing and compensating activities? Wouldn’t it be simpler just to drag Bob out back by his ear and wipe that smug look off? How about torching the smugness with a flamethrower? The very existence of flamethrowers establishes that somewhere, sometime, someone said to themselves, “You know, I want to torch that guy’s look off, but I’m just not close enough to get the job completed.”
Maybe the guys are right? A slimmer, sleeker, sexier self would put me at ease…balance the negative with positives. I need an outlet. The new sleek Media Guy would be a super hero right?
Super hero. Incredible! But what would I name myself? Super Media Guy? And if I did, would I need to create a secret identity? Can someone tell me why in the hell do super heroes need secret identities?
I’m told that a solid secret identity protects the super hero’s loved ones. Because, goodness gracious sakes alive, if Lex Luther even suspected that Lois Lane is actually married to Superman, then she’d be in a boatload of trouble. What am I talking about? Lois Lane is forever in danger in every Superman tale. Why does the super hero even bother with a significant other? She’s always being kidnapped or dangled as bait in exchange for some missing launch code or something.
The Media Guy shouldn’t need a silly secret identity.
Yet I digress.
Time to arrange my mind, get into the gym, stop thinking about Bob’s social deficiencies and focus on the slimmer, sleeker Media Guy.
