If you're going to climb to the top of the ladder, make sure you trust the guy holding it for you.

I'm a real guy's guy. A manly man. I'm Mr. Know-how, the original do-it-yourself-er.

So, I was sitting in the waiting room of Patriot Tire while the technicians changed the oil in my Kia. Waiting with me was an elderly couple (he was very interested in the CNN report on exploding jet-engines while she was very interested in what kind of coffee filters they used on the courtesy cart) and a well-dressed man with a laptop and a cell-phone who very much wanted us to be a part of his life for the next ten minutes.

While the suit clicked madly away on his computer he whipped out his phone, dialed a number, and put the phone down in the chair beside him (he was wearing an earpiece). He made eye-rolling, head-bobbing, hand-twirling gestures to indicate that he had reached someone's voicemail and was bored to death by the message. Finally, he said, "Hey Rich, it's Adam. I got your e-mail about Joe Sanders and I think I want to put a hold on his termination. I've met with his shift supervisor and I'm not entirely convinced he's been given a fair shot. He's only been with us for a couple of weeks and I'd hate for his termination to be due to a personality conflict. I'd like to at least meet with him personally before we make a final decision." And then he hung up.

He reached down into the seat next to him and dialed a second number. No voicemail this time. "Hello, am I speaking with Joe Sanders? Hi, Joe. This is Adam Shank from Corporate and I... Yes. The head office. Yeah, just past the break room. I'm sorry? No, Joe, there is no corporate restroom. We use the restrooms by the break room. Right. Anyway, I'm calling because I'd like to meet with you to get your opinion of the company. No, you don't have to... That's probably not the kind of language you're going to want to use in our meeting. Mm-hm, I understand all about the First Amendment, Mr. Sanders, but there are times when politeness is expected. This is one of those times."

At this point, Mr. Well-Dressed-Important-Job-Having-Man was looking pretty silly, sitting in the waiting room of Patriot Tire trying to conduct himself in a professional manner. I'm fairly certain that, had he been alone in his office, this phone call would have ended much sooner, regardless of Corporate's policy on politeness.

"I have an opening on Friday at eleven o'clock if you'd like to come in. Yes. I'm very aware that you have to work. It shouldn't be difficult to someone to fill in for you for an hour or so. No, Mr. Sanders, I assure you that I'm not laughing at you. I beg your pardon? Yes. Through the break room and into the front office. If you ask Amy at the front desk she can walk you back to my office. Amy. AYY-MEE! Why does it matter how it's spelled? Mr. Sanders, I highly doubt that our Amy is your ex-wife." The poor guy let out a long sigh and rubbed his eyes. "A-M-Y. Good. Amy will show you back to my office. Mr. Sanders... Yes. My name is on the door.(another sigh and an embarrassed glance around the room) S-H-A-N-K. I'm sure Amy knows how it's spelled. You know what Mr. Sanders? I just remembered that I do NOT have an opening on Friday. We'll have to reschedule for sometime next week. Thank you for your time."

The rest of us in the waiting room weren't even trying to pretend we hadn't been listening the whole time. In fact, two more customers had joined the group and the elderly couple had been told that their car was done, but they didn't budge. Mr. S-H-A-N-K quickly dialed another number. "Rich. Adam again. Ignore my last message. Thanks."

Thank you,
      Matt Beers