Saturday, October 15, 2005

“Damn it!”

You slam your palm on the steering wheel in frustration, wondering why they chose today to renovate the parking structure. A black hole would be less dense at this point. Even the handicapped spots are taken, with two of them occupied by that chubby loser who drives the Infiniti FX.

But who’s to judge? You spot a gap and squeeze next to the SUV, managing to scratch it only a little bit. Now it’s time to improvise, time to…

A. Key the other side of the SUV to give it matching scratches.
B. Leave a note with your contact information disguised as a death threat.
C. Shrug while a canned laugh track plays.
D. Construct a handicap decal with stuff you find in the backseat.
E. Call Geico and ask whether you must itemize when insuring circus midgets.

You chose D. Stress level => 37

Using paste, elbow macaroni, and crayons, you craft a stunning replica of a handicap permit and stick it on your windshield. As for the Infiniti? There’s no “I” in FX, so too bad. You step out of the minivan and immediately catch wind of the cat vomit on your shirt. You need to clean yourself.

90 seconds left.

You swipe your keycard, run into the nearest bathroom, and nearly collide with your boss.

“Heya, champ!” he booms, slapping you on the back. “How was your weekend?”

A. “I spent it typing cover letters for, uh, a friend.”
B. “Touch me again and I will break your fingers.”
C. “I don’t know, slugger, and you forgot to zip up again.”
D. “It was a two-day journey of soul-searching and discovery.”
E. “On Saturday I wrote your name 50 times. On Sunday I added hearts.”

You chose C. Stress level => 38

“It was fine,” you reply. “I’m really looking forward to this meeting.”

“Yeah?” he raises his eyebrow. “That’s what Henderson said. And I’m not one to disagree.”

He chuckles and scratches his crotch.

“It’s going to be a big one,” he says, shadowboxing and looking in the mirror. “We’re heading into Q4, and you fellas need a clear idea of where I’m steering this ship, where I’m pointing the rudder. Have I ever sailed you wrong?”

A. “Every single minute, babycakes.”
B. “Yaargh.”
C. “Well, there was that one time when revenue plunged 23%.”
D. “Rudder? I don’t even know her!”
E. “I still can’t believe you called me ‘champ.'”

You chose E. Stress level => 39

“Never,” you shake your head for emphasis. “You’re the best boss I’ve ever had.”

“Don’t I know it,” he slaps you on the back again. “Robust team dynamics. A clear vision. Goal-oriented, process-driven logistics. That’s me. Do I smell vomit?”

Stress level => 40