State of the Union
The union steward addressed his membership.
“The boss is getting older. It’s hard to get his attention and to get him to do what he has to do when he has to do it. We need to change our approach.”
Someone objected, “Let’s just let him screw up. One good mess, shit and piss over everything, and he’ll learn quick enough.”
“Really? You think so?” the steward replied. “The lazy old fart will just get used to it and wallow in it. or he’ll get a doctor to prescribe something or he’ll wear a disposable diaper to bed. I don’t know about you, but I’m not ready for that. He’s old. There’s no disputing that. But not that old, for God’s sake. He has a few more good years left in him. And I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to humiliate the bastard. After all these years of fighting him about everything, I’ve come to like the guy. Let him live his life the way he wants to. Let him keep some self respect. There has to be a better solution.
“But you know as well as I do that he doesn’t listen to us the way he used to. We’ll tell him a story that should be clear and he’ll twist it around like it’s entertainment, not an alert. He’ll sleep right through it, enjoying the show. We’ve used all the creativity we’ve got. We don’t need a better story. We need a different kind of solution.”
Someone in the back of the room spoke up, “Let me try.”
“You? Lowly you? A common laborer? All muscle and no brain? Why do you even bother to come to these meetings?”
“Look. So I can’t spin stories like you guys can. I can’t outwit him. But I can get his attention real fast. I can hit him weaer it hurts.”
“And where is that?”
“His leg.”
“No!”
“Yes.”
“Are you going to bust his knees with a baseball bat? That’s counter-productive. You’ll make a cripple of him.”
“You and your high falutin’ talk. You don’t know the guy at all. He needs quick sharp muscle pain to get his attention.”
“A stroke?”
“No. That would shut everything down, when we want him to get up and take action.”
“Then what do you mean?”
“A cramp. A muscle cramp in the calf. Excruciating pain. But old as he is, he knows damn well that if he stands up and puts his weight on that leg, the pain will go away, like magic. And once he’s up and awake, he’ll know he has to take care of business. So, he’ll trot off to the bathroom and take a piss.”
“Brilliant! We should have thought of that years ago. All in favor say “Aye.”
“Aye!”
“All opposed.”
Silence.
“The ayes have it. We won’t waste our time with psychology. The old bastard is beyond that. Cramps it is.”
