The meeting adjourned and the people started getting up to leave the Boardroom. As Sarah rounded the table, heading toward the door, she saw the CEO, who had just gotten up from the table, walk toward her.
“What do you think of the new way to approach our target market?” The CEO asked as he neared her. Sarah walked back toward the table as he moved in closer, extending his right arm. At first anticipating a handshake, which never appeared, as Sarah drew closer to the CEO she then figured he intended to hug her. Not really knowing what to do and hoping to avoid any personal display of office emotion, she reached out first to deflect his extended arm, wrapping her left arm around the CEO’s waist in the process. Then she lightly patted his back. Suddenly she saw from her peripheral vision that he had been reaching over to push the chair that was near her back under the table. So much for the hug.
Subtly stepping back from the CEO, Sarah enthusiastically voiced her thoughts about the meeting. Then she asked some questions, hoping he would fail to notice, or forget, that she had nearly embraced him. Toward finishing their brief conversation, Sarah reiterated her excitement about the business strategic changes, as she subconsciously weighed the importance of making some changes of her own–like being more aware of her blind spots.
The Garden Hall Room at the Radish Hotel is brimming with activity. Laughter and excited conversations rise above the music. A classic color-changing jukebox is playing a 1960s song by The Platters, Under the Boardwalk. Atop a long banquet table is a generous spread of various foodstuff. A variety of fruits are gathered together, focused on their own animated chatter among themselves, as the following snippets are overheard:
Bananas: We about peeled when we learned we won for doing the best split.
Grapes: You know some people think we’re just a bunch of winos.
Pineapple: I hope you know that you’re always welcome to visit.
Watermelon: My doctor planted a seed in my mind to make me think it’s all water weight.
Cherry: So one night my young lover and I agreed to go for it . . . for the very first time.
Peaches: We swear by the brand of that blade, which will cut through any fuzz.
Oranges: Everyone thinks we’re so irresistible they can’t help but squeeze us.
Kiwifruit: We prefer not to be called Chinese gooseberry anymore.
Pear: Okay, so I’m not from a shapely lot. So eat me.
Strawberries: We were left out in the fields . . . seems like forever.
Six-word story version:
Cartwright realized he will never sail.
Expanded version — 12-word story:
Land bound, Cartwright accepted his destiny — never to sail the high seas.
The cart that couldn’t.
On the boardwalk with no sail,
Only treads for wear.
Part 1: Little Joe
Part 2: Little Joe and Jo
Part 3: Just Jo (and multiple squeaks)
They are so miserly, they usually breakfast on moldy bread topped with moldy cheese. Expiration dates on products mean nothing to them. Comfortable with their pace of consumption, they want for nothing. Their brood follows the same values, as they continue to proliferate. They come from a long line of hardy stock. Next time you run into one of them, you might either scream or stomp on their hard shells. Cockroaches are fast though, so be prepared to chase them for months until they leave you unscrewed.
Kelly and her co-workers take their boss out to lunch to celebrate National Boss Lunch Day. They all like their boss, who is a generous and fair man. Each of them goes around the table to say a little something about their boss and toast him. Kelly happens to sit next to the man, so she turns toward him when her turn comes around.
Enthusiastic and nervous, she barely swallows the chunk of chicken she’s been chewing. As she simultaneously chortles, raises her glass, and says, “To the best boss ever,” tiny bits of meat fly out of her mouth and land on her boss’s glasses for all to see. To make light of the situation, he says, “Thanks, Kelly. Your delivery is spot on.”