Chickens On Acid

Saturday morning I received an ominous sounding email from the guy who is my direct supervisor at work: "Call me Saturday. I have something I want to discuss with you." My immediate response is to start running around like a chicken on acid with its head chopped off, screaming that something terrible was about to happen to me. I never imagine that the news might be good or that it might not be about me. That's for optimists and considerate people, the scourge of the earth.

This man, who I have known for many years and consider a good friend, told me that he had been reassigned to an inside sales position. He was clearly relieved that he hadn't lost his job. My response to this, which I thought but didn't speak -- this is growth for me -- was: "Whew. Thank god I'm OK." When something bad happens to someone else, I'm glad it didn't happen to me. When something bad happens to me, I wonder why it couldn't have happened to someone else. I don't take the long view. I don't take the time to envision how what I think is bad news will some day turn out to be good news. I want the good news right now, even if it might not turn out well in the long run. I never pass up the opportunity for some immediate pleasure.

Unfortunately for me, it looks like the company is going to strip off part of the territory for which I'm responsible. The good news, I guess, is that I won't have to do as much driving. The bad news is I'm losing income. I had just stopped running around screaming that the sky was falling, finally catching my breath, when I obviously had to start running around again: "Shit! Damn! Poop! The sky is falling right on my head!"

This is kind of a trend with big corporations right now. Last year my sales quota was 50% higher than the year before. This is a ridiculous number, which I somehow met. The company shows its gratitude by raising my sales quota again -- sales quotas never, ever, ever go down, recession or not -- and then telling me there is no way I can achieve this result by myself. This was not totally unexpected. The advantage to being a chicken on acid with my head cut off is that I can't walk around with my head up my ass anymore. It has been cut off, you see.

It is nice taking the long view. I wasn't terribly upset, all of the chicken metaphors notwithstanding.