Decisions by Doc

He was nervous.  It was almost fear, but not quite ‘over the border’.  She had made demands on him that meant it was now time to make decisions.  Decisions.  He hated that word.  It meant decoding what was most important, and that word was really the root of his problem.  He had learned that ‘important’ was something women told him -- and that it meant ‘I want’.

He really didn’t have that many wants himself.  Worse, what he really wanted was a smile from a lady – that special kind of smile that meant ‘I win!’  He didn’t really care much about winning… Well, not about winning in the sense of victory or defeat.  His only real idea of winning was winning approval.  If she smiled or showed delight, he really didn’t care if she thought he had lost.  Irrelevant.  The main thing was to perform to specification.

He was a toy.  He needed to be a very fun toy.  That was ‘job one’.

Decisions threw him.  He had to imagine what she would like with insufficient data.  (She had said, “You decide!” but refused to tell him what decision she would like him to make.)  On reflection he realized that if she told him how to decide, it wouldn’t really be a decision.  Catch-22!

He liked decisive.  It made things clear.  Sometimes there were problems… usually if he doubted he could meet the standards she set, or even be successful at accomplishing something she wanted.  That was horrible:  the sense of inadequacy.  Worse, she would yell.  He hated it when she was unhappy.  Some men (apparently) liked to provoke wrath.  To him that sounded nuts.  His job wasn’t to make women upset; it was to make them smile and giggle and gloat and grin and … he ran out of words.

Now he was stuck.  Again.

She wanted him to do things that scared him.  If he couldn’t perform it might be better to admit it now.  Then again, maybe it wouldn’t.  She’d be angry either way, but being upfront now wouldn’t get her as furious as failure later.  His decision was made.  Now the problem was timing.  He needed to find a good time and place to give her the bad news.

Being her sub was not an easy job.  It was a balancing act.  It involved judgment, skill and a degree of sensitivity that he knew that he lacked.  It meant doing things that would bring down storm clouds and pelting hail.  There were days he wondered why he hadn’t been fired.  But he rationalized that ‘if she decides I’m more trouble than I’m worth, she’ll tell me to get lost.’  So far she kept him around.  Actions speak louder than words.

He decided to tell her about his limit today.  In fact this morning.  The idea of waiting was worse than just speaking up.

He hated decisions, but the time was here.  He hadn’t made the decision.  It had made itself.  It was simply there – staring him in the face.  The next step was much easier.  Action.

He picked up the phone for what promised to be a very challenging conversation….