Wilbur works hard to look radiant. He doesn't feel radiant, but, for Charlotte's sake, he does back flips and somersaults. He knows Zuckerman expects him to be exceptional. Wilbur knows his life depends upon it. So he fakes it.
That's what I've been doing these last two days at my new job. Faking it. It's not that I don't like the people. I do. It's not that I don't like the work. I do. It's not that I don't appreciate the benefits. I do. But this change wasn't my choice. That's why I find myself struggling to be positive and friendly. And, as a good friend of mine says, I'm going to have to fake it until I make it.
Once upon a time, a pig farmer named Zeke had to take a job as a shepherd because the bottom fell out of the hog market. Literally. The floor of the hog store collapsed.
Zeke hated being a shepherd. He hated being out in the fields. He hated the smell of the sheep. He didn't like the sheepdogs. They peed on him and bit him. Most of all, Zeke hated the uniform. It was made of burlap and gave him hives.
Zeke came home after his first week as a shepherd. He sat in front of his fireplace, put up his feet, and saw sheep shit on his boots. He shook his head and said, "Sheep suck."
Moral of the story: Bacon is good eatin'.
And Saint Marty lived happily ever after. Until Monday.