Oppressive Optimism

Two weeks ago, I embarked on a week-loooong journey of optimism. For one whole week I attempted, and mostly succeeded, in looking for the silver lining in every situation that was so bold as to bask in my normally sour-faced presence. It was hell, but not really.

I was, dare I say, pleasant and hopeful at every opportunity. I was even happier at the end of the week. Did my cynicism die? Not by a long shot. In fact, I found that I can be optimistic, cynical, disillusioned, and happy simultaneously. What an amazing feeling. I have finally achieved balance. My friends laughed, but they have actually seen the difference in the emotional equilibrium I have cultivated.

Our union presidents didn't know what to do. Watching them squirm in the confusion of my amicable and courteous demeaner was priceless. It is a tactic that I am still using and the results are amazing. In the land of the blind, the one-eyed Jack is king. For me, it is a helpful and handy tool in my rucksack. For them, they think they are making inroads and having me on their side. In reality, they get sloppy and make sophmoric mistakes that are to the Agency's, and the bargaining unit's, advantage. Ain't life grand?

Anyhoo, don't worry. The smiling cynic isn't going anywhere for a while. I just needed a week to recover from hyper-optimisia. Get ready for more rants and raves later this week.

Old Fart