“What’s the commotion?” I asked. In the commodity business, it’s commonplace for people to be shouting and running around. But this was different. “Is there some kind of incredible Christmas sale?” I muttered to myself. Personally, I’m not fond of the way merchants commercialize every holiday. It gets worse every year.
Suddenly, my sectary blasted through my office door. “The President called. He wants to commission you to advise the committee on farm commerce. He says that the local commissioner recommended you for the job because you’re the most committed commercial lawyer in the farming community. What shall I tell him? The commonsense answer would be yes, wouldn’t it?”
I took three deep breaths. Of course the answer should be yes. Who wouldn’t want a job with a food salary and commodious living quarters? I could give up being a commuter and trade in my compact car. No more using communal toilets. I suppose my status would never leave me short of female companions. On the other hand, advising the committee is a twenty-four-hour-a-day commitment. When would I find time for my hobbies? I don’t think my dog will like it if I turn our daily one-hour walk into a five-minute compaction. Then again, he’s only a dog. It’s not like I’m committing a crime. In fact, with the extra money I earn, I can hire someone to walk him for two hours every day.
Smiling, I looked up at my secretary. “Suzette, call the President and tell him I’m in my way.”