The Stress Eater

You know that stereotypical scene where the dads line up in front of the kindergarten class and describe to the kids what they do for a living? The joke usually revolves around some poor schlub who prepares sales reports being surrounded by a policeman, a fireman and a guy who owns a candy factory.

Well, when that stereotypical scene played out in front of my oldest's kindergarten class, I was not there, for my wife, chilled to the marrow by the thought of me describing what I do to a class full of innocent children, threw away the notice before I could see it.

If I'd managed to get in front of the kids that day, this is what I would have said:

Hello boys and girls. I'm a stress eater.

When an oil tanker hits a reef, and starts spilling millions of gallons of toxic oil into a fragile ecosystem, they bring in these itsy bitsy teeny tiny organisms we call microbes. Do you know what those microbes do? They eat the oil, pooping and peeing it out in a less toxic form, helping to clean up the mess.

When someone has a big problem, a problem that makes them feel very very bad, we call that bad feeling "stress." Well, as the problem gets worse, the stress grows.  As the stress grows, people find it harder to solve the problem.  They get distracted, they get worried, they grow frantic, they start self-medicating.  The problem therefore just keeps getting worse until the stress cannot be contained and starts spilling out in toxic pools everywhere, polluting the office atmosphere and making more and more people feel bad. At that point someone calls me on my office extension and I come running.

Now I'm not a microbe, and I don't actually eat the stress and poop and pee it out in less toxic form. What I do is keep a level head while others are losing theirs, I think through the problem, figure out best and worst case scenarios, assess the probability and cost of various solutions, and recommend a solution.  In order to do this, I do have to eat the stress in a way, by internalizing the problem, taking ownership of it, committing to it. I allow it to infest my brain and my innards, I think about it day and night, I "worry" the problem until I understand it. By the time I'm done digesting it, I'm ready to excrete a report detailing my findings and recommendations, helping to clean up the mess.  Sometimes my report is in the form of a colorful PowerPoint presentation like this one. 

Any questions?  Did everyone get a copy of the slides?

Comments

[Mrs. Peperium]

Funny, Mr. P and I thought you were a writer.

[DarkoV]

Pooping & peeing. Now THAT is a great introdcution and one, I'm sure, would have held your daughter's class in a trance. Question: Did your wife sort of know that your presentation would include the microbe analogy and thereby torpedoed your attendance? Or was it...uuhhhmmm women's intuition on her part?