Fail to the Chief
The thought of being the President of the United States of America is an appealing idea to some. I can imagine being commander and chief of the most powerful country and advanced military on the planet; setting policies that change the world with the stroke of a pen and traveling the world meeting with important foreign dignitaries.it would be a very rewarding job for the right person; but I have also come to the realization that some people just don’t have the social skills, the patience or the self-control needed to run a country effectively. Fortunately for the American people, I know of several reasons I could never be president.
First of all, I am petrified at the concept of giving speeches; any form of public speaking has always been a big issue for me. Every day at work I have to read daily progress reports on the status of my maintenance department to a group of twenty department managers; it is very uncomfortable to have my colleagues and constitutes staring at me with accusing eyes, judging my body’s every movement and gesture, critiquing every syllable that comes from my mouth. My mind races in a million different directions, questioning everything; is my fly open? Is there a booger hanging from my nose? What will happen to me if I forget to say what I need to say? Even though I have been doing it daily for a while now, I still consider myself lucky if I can pull it off without stumbling. My hands get cold and clammy, they shake as if I was having some sort of brain seizure, I sweat uncontrollably, to the point of soaking through two shirts, my tongue gets tangled into untie able knots, flapping around inside my mouth like a fish out of Davis 2 water, my words get jumbled into unrecognizable mutated miscreants of the intended words. A few months ago I gave a presentation in front of a group of upper management, in my nervous state of mind I unknowingly and continuously referred to “center pillars,” (a plastic accent cover used on the exterior of a car door), as caterpillars (as in the furry, pubescent butterfly). Not one single person reacted to or corrected me. My mistake was not realized until much later when a friend, who was at the meeting, jokingly pointed it out to me. I felt so embarrassed.
Then there is my temper. I am usually pretty level headed type of guy, but unfortunately for my fellow road warriors, I have a severe case of road rage that is sometimes out of control. When I am driving and another driver does something stupid like tailgate me, cut me off in traffic or drive way to slow in the fast lane, I am very quick to take action without any regards for others safety. I have on numerous occasions, performed brake checks on many a tailgater. I will slam my brake pedal hard to the floor causing screeching tires, white smoke and flat spots on all four wheels, all while I brace myself for the possible impending impact with no fear of consequences. Cut me off and I will deliver a verbal assault of curse words and suggestive hand gestures, to the likes that not even the saltiest of sailor has ever seen. I even became the tailgater myself, getting the attention of a slow poke driver by honking my horn wildly and driving so close to their bumper that I’m almost sitting in their back seat; practically pushing their car like Richard Petty on the final lap at Daytona
Finally, there is my lack of self-control. Like most Americans, I know how