Kill the messenger

There can be a perverse delight in being the bearer of evil tidings. There is a swelling sense of self-importance that also feeds the tendency to drag out the message and prolong the moment. At this point in time, you have the listener’s undivided attention. He hangs on your every word. It takes careful calculation to judge just how far the moment can be stretched without overdoing, changing a spotlight into a thunderbolt of exasperation.

If you are really good at this you can keep your audience in suspense while you weave your tale. Will it end in full blown or partial disaster? A near miss? Excitement and urgency in your voice, you spin out the details.

“You’ll never guess what happened to me on the way home from work.�

“Wow! Are you OK?�

“Sort of. I was coming around that bad curve in the snow when I saw a tractor trailer coming down the hill toward me. You know how our tires are not brand new anymore? Well I was trying to keep control and stay in my own lane. You know how difficult that is on that curve and I had not shifted into four wheel drive yet. The truck seemed to be having some trouble holding his own lane. You know how steep that hill is. Anyway, I had the radio on to the Sharon station and they were just talking about how slick the roads were getting while all of this was going on, and you remember how last year they had cars and trucks go off the road in that same place. I think there was at least one collision, too.�

u      u      u

Insert exasperated explosion here. Common sense and consideration would dictate that the first words out of the messenger’s mouth should be, “Everyone is OK and so is my car, but let me tell you what almost happened on the way home.�

OK. Not quite as compelling. I guess that is the issue. We all need to feel important, even if it is at the expense of others. If we can’t get attention with good news, then we’ll just have to get it with bad.

As long as we are talking I thought you should probably hear what happened earlier today. You might want to sit down for this. You know that huge, dead oak tree that sort of leans toward the parking area by your car? Well, the wind was really kicking up a fuss this morning. I had branches down all over my yard, but I had no real damage. I never park under the trees. Well …

Bill Abrams resides (and spews his evil tidings) in Pine Plains.

 

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