Sometimes we have issues in our lives that are largely left alone because, quite frankly, the solution is more of a headache and/or heartache than the issue itself. The response is to tolerate the problem, ignore it or pretend you don't see it. Maybe all three. Addressing these issues fall somewhere on that to-do list between cleaning out the gutters and scheduling a screening with your proctologist.
Take an e-mail I received last week. The company and the city involved are both large, but identity matters not, for it could be any shop, anywhere. The names may be fictitious, but the message is true:
"I work for Superman Press, just north of Krypton, and the drugs flow openly. Everyone knows about it, including management, and nothing gets done about it. There are more drugs and drug dealers than downtown Metropolis. It's time to put a stop to this madness."
Now I'd like to talk about Michael. He's not a printer. Mike's goal was to be a rock-and-roll star. Guitar was his thing. Pretty good player, at least as good as Ace Frehley, but not along the lines of an Eddie Van Halen. Could he have made it on his chops? Maybe. Lesser lights have graced recording contracts. But borderline talents need luck and timing on their side. This is probably true in any competitive environment.
Unfortunately, Mike enjoyed having a belt or two onstage while playing. By the middle of his set, he was giggling and bouncing around the stage like a buffoon. The antics were to the point of distraction, but the audiences in the dives where he played were well oiled themselves. By the end of the night, however, when it came time to cover his favorite song—Skynyrd's "Freebird"—the inebriation clouds parted and a focused, skilled axesman emerged. The transformation was amazing.
- Places:
- Krypton