Location: Columbus, Ohio, United States

Friday, November 05, 2004

Improved Cardiovascular Health

Last night my wife went out to purchase the following:
Two (2) sets of handcuffs.
Two (2) Cop Costumes.
Five (5) Pillows.
Eighty (80) Condoms.
That's hilarious to me.
Her motives were innocent; she's a theatre teacher, they use non-lubricated condoms to insulate the body microphones, there are cops in the play, and I assume characters at some point need to get comfy. Imagine the reaction of the check out kid. "Uhh...Mrs. you need me to bag that?"
I got to thinking about the poor check-out kid, and once I got past the shopping list I thought about something else.
I'm a jerk.
Jesus at one point heals a guy's vision, the guy pops up and is asked, "What do you see." He responds something like, "I see people like trees, walking around." Jesus then goes back in and fixes his vision again.
Apparently seeing people like some living yet senseless object is no good. The problem I face is that I do that: I see people as things. There is enough evidence to convict.
When I got to thinking about the check out kid, my mental image was a blue apron. I did not picture some kid in a uniform. A kid could want to be a doctor, or have a sick mom, or just lose his girlfriend, or skateboard poorly. A uniform gives me my milk and shuts up. I pictured an apron.
Yesterday I took a survey called the "McKinsey Global Business Executive Survey." It asked lots of questions about how the economy is doing and where we see it heading. It also asked a lot about hiring and firing practices. The term it used was "growth in workforce," it gave me a seven point Likert scale, 1 meaning many jobs eliminated, 7 meaning many jobs created. Again, I am unhappy that I comfortably address some guys vocation on a Likert scale.
When I was a little boy I was nice. Now I am effective. I guess the world needs effective, but I kind of miss nice. Today, I'm buying candy for my check out kid.
All this lesson from eighty condoms: that and improved cardiovascular health.


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