That'll Teach 'em!

OK, old joke, but still funny.

How about this one?

There are two kinds of people in the world, those that eat when stressed, and those who don't understand the situation well enough to be stressed. (If you've never had to lose weight, you won't find that as humorous as those who do; sorry.)

I have a friend who's beanpole skinny. "How do you stay thin?" I asked.

Replied this wisp of a man, "When I'm stressed, I lose my appetite." Say what? Not eat when frazzled; on how many levels is that wrong?

So, I'm supposed to speak in another state in two weeks. The agreement was executed early this year. Last month the phone rings.

"Hi Scott. We're having budget issues, which requires the governor to now review every personal services contract to see if we're going to go ahead with the agreement."

"OK," I reply, "This affects me how?"

"You have one of those types of agreements. But," my contact quickly appends, "don't worry, (famous last words) they've given a green light to the conference so we should have everything worked out in a couple days. After all, we can't have a convention without speakers, can we?"

Would you be as surprised as I was if I tell you they can? Yep, true.

With barely a week remaining before I travel, rivaling the brilliance of a low-wattage, burnt out bulb, some upper-level, mucky-muck decided that 500 people spending two days milling about a conference center - sans speakers - is an appropriate way to shave a few bucks. I understand I'm a little close to the forest to see the trees, but will the attendees draw names to determine who speaks? Whoever makes decisions like these would trim budgets by purchasing cars without tires.

So, what do I do now? This is my livelihood and income; there was some decent coin involved. Of course, that's kaput so my worry-meter starts redlining. I need to ramp down quickly, but how? Quick as one can shout, "Family size bag of tortilla chips", the solution explodes across my brain, "Eat, of course!"

Yeah, that's the ticket; eat so much I gain weight. They'll feel bad because they hurt my health. Remorse will kick in. They'll gather on a conference call, run some ideas up the flagpole, do a feasibility study, convene an ad-hoc group, discuss options, and conclude the only sane decision is to rehire me. Sure, that'll teach 'em! Where's the chocolate?

Made sense in the moment. So anything stationary long enough to get pierced with a fork disappeared into my gullet. Logically, not so smart; but, in a carb-fueled frenzy, am I clear thinking? Not so much.

Before you shake your head, sadly pitying this now somewhat-plumper shell of a man, here's the kicker: it appeared to work! My psychic pain must have been so intense that they felt it two states away and they rehired me! Really!

Of course, my topic, "Handling Stress," is being renegotiated.