Have you ever slain a dragon? Once-upon-a-time, long, long ago, far, far away, (actually, last Tuesday near Hoboken) there was a small company, located in a beautiful valley. The scenery was magnificent with lovely rolling hills surrounding the valley. One hill was very noticeable much like a zit on a beauty queen. It was so impressive it was known only as "The Hill." It was a Capital Hill. An obstinate dragon, with the temperament a Tasmanian Devil would be proud of, lived on top of the hill, in a cave everyone feared to enter. Its ill-tempered mother, Ms. Assault, named it Every Possible Assault, EPA for short. As try as the company might the dragon, much like poison ivy, was not friendly. Frequently EPA would let out enormous belches that would rock the company. The stench corroded stainless steel. During the night it would wake the managers, causing them great fear. No environmental manager could ever get a good night's sleep, their nerves constantly on edge. The belching caused babies to cry. Dogs would howl throughout the night and cats cringed in terror. Milk soured. As foul as the belches were, they were nothing compared to the dragon's flatulence's. They were capable of closing down business's permanently if the companies had not taken the proper corrective actions. Living with the dragon was a do-or-die situation. If you think the belches and flatulents were disgusting, let me tell you about the dragon's diarrhea. This was not good fertilizer. The dragon's diarrhea was paperwork: Notice of Violations, Federal Register publications, new standards, revised standards, permits, you name it, oceans of it. Volumous, almost without limits, like the pain of an abscessed tooth. The paperwork flowed down from The Hill, putting a good mudslide to shame. Without adequate pollution controls and pro-active works, companies would literally drown in the diarrhea. Stories abounded about businesses being buried in it. Their lack of controls and improper handling of the paper work brought the dragon's evil sheriff to arrest and jail managers. One day the company decided to slay the dragon. It, with others, joined environmental associations to kill the dragon or, as a minimum, at least reduce the dragon's unacceptable behavior. As the associations climbed The Hill, they became fearful. As they entered the cave, the associations were so fearful, they too had diarrhea. That only made matters worse. More paperwork flowed down The Hill. The dragon quickly put all the associations under his spell. They then promoted the value of EPA, which just encouraged the dragon to produce more belches, flatulents, and the dreaded diarrhea. That tore it. The company decided to place a mole inside every association. The mole's task was to calm the association's activities down. Large doses of Reason and Understanding were formulated into Imodium and fed to the associations. Their belching and flatulence subsided somewhat. But they developed a serious case of diarrhea of speech and constipation of thought. The dragon's indigestion remained, unabated. Finally they decided to hire a Knight Consultant named Sir Very Expensive and his sidekick, Accomplishes Nothing. No never mind about expenses. The charges could be transferred to the Director's account. The Director never noticed as all expenses are pawned off back to plant level. Promising great things, the Knight Consultant plodded up The Hill, his assistant trailing behind. The dragon saw them coming and waited. As they entered the cave the dragon let one loose. It was terrible. If the local livestock did not drown in the flow of diarrhea, they were gassed. In frustration, the company decided to send their own knight to slay the dragon freeing the company from its terrible curse. They searched and advertised for the bravest, smartest and best-qualified manager. In truth, they were searching for the most gullible manager in the organization. The environmental manager was the obvious choice. Innocent to a fault, he accepted. A fine suit of armor was crafted. Made of clipboards, calculators, foam plates, duct tape and other scraps, it was something to behold. It was elegant, far too large but elegant. As he walked, the calculator clanked away, its paper tape looking all the world like toilet paper trailing from behind. A mighty sword was forged from thin disposable aluminum containers. Except for a few bends and kinks, it was a work of art. No one dared test it. It never crossed the environmental manager's mind to test it. For that he was knighted Sir Witless. A party was held in the warehouse. The celebration by the staff was memorable. Only once were they interrupted and had to take cover when the dragon let out a humongous flatulent from The Hill top. The building was shifted three feet east. All the windows shattered. It was hours before anyone regained consciousness. Sir Witless set off to slay the dragon. Stumbling, falling and tripping over his slowly crumbling suit of armor he reached the top, breathless. The residual stench was ripe even using his new style respirator. The dragon, hearing the rumpus, awoke. Wading through his own diarrhea, he greeted the knight with a Technicolor yawn of flames, saying, "You idiot, do you think you can slay me?" The fumes were causing the knight's vision to blur. Remembering his sword, he said, "Just a minute 'till I draw my sword." "No problem." the dragon replied, "This must be a big day for you." Sir Witless was confused. "Eh?" he replied. Fumbling with the sword, he cut his finger. "The hero's journey, the slaying of the dragon to save your company. You know, the hero's grand departure from the real world to the unknown mystical land." "Eh?" commented the knight. "Twit." said the dragon, "The fulfillment of your dream, of your quest, and then to return a hero, seeking your just reward and praise. Lord, but you are stupid." "I'm not here to save anybody. I came to slay you, stopping your disgusting belching and other bad habits," said Sir Witless, licking his cut finger. "Did your mother not teach you any manners?" "Do not belittle my mother." roared the dragon, "She is a serpent and the mascot of the government." "Why on earth would the government pick a serpent as a mascot?" asked the knight. "Because," replied the dragon, "she is constipated and like the government, cannot produce anything worthwhile. Excluding me, of course" "Do you know where you are?" questioned the dragon. "Not really." mumbled the knight. "I think I am slowly losing my bearings with all that smell. But I am here to slay you. Do you have any valuables?" "No," replied the dragon, "You certainly take the fun out of the conflict. Tell me, have you ever read or heard of a dragon being slain? Or dying of natural causes?" "No," replied the knight, "Have you any piles of gold?" trying to change the subject. "Dragons have one limitation, they cannot slay the stupid and are you ever so stupid. Listen, once, long ago I was a small government organization. As I matured, I became a dragon living on The Hill. I cannot die, I cannot be defeated, I only grow stronger." said the dragon. "Virgins?" asked the knight. "Pardon?" Choking from the stench, the knight explained, "You know, damsels in distress, fair maidens, virgins." "No. No virgins work here. We have other names for government employees." "Eh?" queried the knight. The knight bandaged his hand and grasped the sword. "Prepare to die." The dragon simply breathed a touch of fire and melted the sword. "Th-th-that was not ni-ni-nice," stuttered the knight, now looking a bit concerned about his tattered and now smoldering suit of armor. "Let me 'splain to you how the system works," said the dragon, "I am the dragon. You cannot kill me and those who challenge my authority end up broke. You cannot even live with me. But I will tell you how you can best exist with me. Build a dyke around your factory consisting of your reports showing you have no Notices Of Violations, permit exceedences, no violations of any sort and be continually reducing pollution by installing better and better controls. And ensure your people are safe. Only through doing all this will you company be safe from my wrath." "Yes, you will still suffer from my unending belches, flatulents and diarrhea. Yes, it is more than just a full time job to survive my wrath. But the joys are well worth the effort. The environment will be a safer place and your clear conscience will provide you with peaceful nights. Your children will grow up safe and healthy. Your community will be well pleased, encouraging your company to grow and prosper." Raising his great paw, as if to give a blessing, the dragon roared, "Go now and spread the word." As the knight left, he turned and asked "Just one virgin?" and the dragon laughed. James Roe2006 www.smartjobhunting.com Jim Roe 1999 May 8, 1999 |
