Suck-Cess

One suggestion that our Christian Motivational Speaker threw out to his audience of 200 or so fed. employees was to hire a 'Success Coach.'
"If you can't afford $50 an hour," he shrugged his shiny-suited shoulders, "give a friend, co-worker, or loved one a list of your goals and ask that they hold you accountable. Tell them to not be afraid to prod you into productivity by reminding you of these promises to yourself and your commitment to success. You'll be amazed at how effective this can be in turning your life and career around..."

I wrote a few of my goals on the corner and down the sides of some discarded porn pamphlets and handed them out to several co-workers, as suggested, during break.
"Who hired the keynote speaker?" I asked, slapping my small deck of HOT WET GIRLS!!!/career goal cards against my arm, the way the professionals do it.
I was standing near the pastry cart. It was like baiting bears.

"Uhhhh.....Ken," answered Lindsey, who dresses well but can't actually do her job, computer support, worth a shit. She stared at my Success Prompts as if they were peeing on her in the shower, as advertised. She pointed at Ken for emphasis. He was slouching about 20 feet away, dribbling jelly donut down his red/white/blue tie.

"It was really a rhetorical question," I shrugged, flipping the cards, "I'm not good at small talk..."
"Would you like to be my Success Coach?" I asked her, flipping the cards and handing her one.
It said, 'I Promise To Make Small Talk With People Whom Normally I Avoid Or Just Make Fun Of Behind Their Backs.'
The glossy card depicted 2 hot oily women with busy tongues.

By now Lindsey's friend, Marilyn, our email system manager, and an angry woman with an incongruous commitment to Holiday Decorating, had joined us. I flipped through my deck and chose one that showed a man giving another man a blow job. I had written beside this 'Eat Less Dairy' and 'Call My Mom.'

They stared at me, then at eachother. It always surprises me how many people don't have good relationships with their mothers...

Ken was ambling toward us, surruptitiously to get another donut while pretending to be interested in what we had to say. I decided I'd leave to pursue another more urgent personal goal in the bathroom.
"Give this one to Ken," I said, handing Lindsey a card that had a dominatrix licking her whip. It said, "Wear Foil On My Head So The Government Can't Read My Thoughts.'
That one was just for fun.

I don't really have many career goals.