A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, I worked for a fictitious company. Let’s call it Dun & Bradstreet for want of a better name. The company was nice to me. The boss was nice to me. Working conditions were decent too, but I’ve mentioned before that I’m crazy so it may come as no surprise that I wanted to be on the radio. I became a stringer for the best local news operation in the area. A stringer gets paid by the story. The more you work, the more you make. I worked so much that my full time job was interfering with my stringing. I made more money stringing than I did from meaningful employment.
One Monday morning, I arrived early at my place of business. My desk normally had a rack on it which contained about 500 files. That Monday morning, no files, no rack. A few minutes later, my boss walked in with my rack and my files under his arm. My poor boss. Because he bore the mantle of leadership, he had taken my files home and spent the weekend reviewing them. He told me as he walked past my desk that he wanted to talk to me in his office.
I never found out what he wanted to say. You see, I wanted to talk to him too and as I entered his office I told him it would probably save some time if I went first. My full-time job, I said, was seriously interfering with my career, so I quit.