I PUNCH THE CLOCK

Time to punch in.

I punch in because that's what working people do. And I'm the working person's working person. If there were some way to have a third level to that equation, I'd be that, too.

I'm just like my co-workers. They drive Chevy’s, I drive a Cadillac. All GM parts, bro. This isn't a competition. Some people are like that, but I am above such petty things. When I travel, I stay at a hotel just like everyone else. No difference. A hotel is a hotel, just like a jacuzzi is just a soaking tub with holes. Besides, I'd stay at the Wynn if their valet drivers would dress a little better.

Time to compliment someone. I use my outside voice so that everyone in the building hears me. I'd be suicidal if I was caught dead wearing what I'm about to compliment my co-worker for wearing, but I know the script: YOU LOOK REALLY GOOD TODAY! IS THAT A NEW SWEATER? I know it's not a new sweater. I don't wear sweaters.

But today I wear sweaters all the time.

My shout out is received with a look of disgust, but I am unphased. Loud compliments are money when it comes to image. The only time a compliment doesn't count is when no one else hears it, and everyone heard how much I appreciated that sweater. Team player status established.

Time for coffee.

I yawn extra loud as I'm walking to the break room so that everyone can hear how tired I am from working so hard. I grab the decaf. Some people drink the stuff with caffeine. It's a personal choice.

In the break room, the receptionist with three kids is talking about she's painting her fourth kid's room. Something about an artist from France. Or maybe she's putting in some fans. I don't know. So I bluff.

“I saw his work when I spent two months in Paris last year,” I quip. “If you go, you should make sure you give yourself plenty of time.”

I nod at her as I turn to go back to my desk. Always making connections. We're the same. She knows that now. I leave before she can respond.

Back to my desk. Time to dominate the phone. Gotta close. I don't punch the phone, except to dial. It's not about what I want, sir. It's about what you want. And you want the best. That's what I'm offering you today. Boom. He doesn't buy, but he says it sounds like I am wearing really nice shoes. He is right. He hangs up, but I continue a fake conversation until he buys. At which point, I turn him down.

Forget about it, man. I'm successful enough that I don't need your business. I put in my three rebuttals. Time to call it a morning. I'll come back after lunch and dole out another loud compliment. Who's up for margaritas?