As I get older, tea becomes more and more of a problem. But I'll get to that in a minute.

My wife Lorie is boggled by the Dill Family practices of taking a vacation. Whenever the Dill family is assembled on the beach, we all unfold all our beach chairs, set up the beach blanket and the toys, and then all sit down to read. Her point is that it's the beach! Why not run and play or swim or walk on the beach or explore. We sit. We read. It's what we do. Lorie doesn't like going to the beach with us much anymore.

Of secondary concern to Lorie are my "Reading Goals" when we go to the beach. Whenever I have time to take a real vacation, which isn't often, I bring a stack of comics, a stack of books about comics, and a stack of trade paperbacks that reprint older comics. (And I always bring much more material than the Goals require, for what terrible thing would happen should I run out of comics to read?) I have a strategy set and a priority list and certain achievement goals in mind. What's more, if I don't get to a point in my reading that my Goals called for, the whole vacation was a crashing failure. No matter how much sex we had.

Her point is that a vacation is meant to relax. And that reading is fine, but setting goals for myself is for work. This is vacation.

My brain doesn't work like that.

The goals must be set. In almost everything I do. It's part of my minor case of Obsessive Compulsive, inherited from my mother. If the vacation is to be perfect, certain things must be done on the Chuck Checklist. If we're at the beach, there must be boardwalk, seafood, putt putt golf, at least three games of HeroClix, at least one book and one trade paperback completed, and all the comics finished and sorted. If it's Christmas, Santa Mouse must be read to the family and Christmas with the Super Heroes must be read in private. These are only parts of the big picture, but you get the point.

At work, I urge my superiors for deadlines. Things are much easier if they set the goals for me. If there are no deadlines, and I try to just relax and do the work, I inevitably end up setting minor goals and deadlines for myself to get through the day. Nothing major. I just need to be at a certain point in my coding before I'm allowed to do a certain thing. Such as the code must compile before I go to the bathroom.

Which is where the tea comes in.

There I am, Tuesday morning. Pouring over code and madly sipping tea. My duty for the next couple of weeks is to read the existing code for file transfers and write a report on the validation checks the code is doing. This report will be matched up to the requirements for accuracy, and may result in code changes. There are several files that need to be checked for validation. I'm on the first one. It's slow going.

It never happened explicitly, I never stated the goal out right, it just appeared. I will finish reporting on the ADD file before I go to the bathroom. I neglected to factor in all the tea I was drinking.

I usually get to work around 5 A.M. My goal there is to beat traffic, and get home early enough to spend time with my kids before bedtime. But, getting in at 5 A.M. requires a certain amount of tea to get started, at least two mugs. (A great big mug with Wonder Woman's picture on it) By this point in my tale, I have had three mugs of tea, and no bathroom break.

I was beating myself up for not being further along in my work, despite a lack of deadline, and it happened. The goal was in place. The tea was in belly. The stage was set for disaster.

My eyes were watering when I stopped reporting long enough to check my status and realized I was only halfway done. My speed increased, as did my secondary brain distractions. Music or memories that would trick my brain into believing there was no bathroom break needed. I had about another hour to go.

I leaned forward, risked the back pain, crossed my legs under the chair. My fingers flew between the keyboard and mouse in a made symphony of writing, cutting, and pasting. My brain worked in an overly-caffeinated state, deciphering what others had written, anally recording every little validation point no matter how minor, and thinking about the last issue of Legion of Super Heroes and how it had nothing to do with urination. Nothing has anything to do with urination. I went already, at least two hours ago. I was fine. It was going to be fine. There was no need to be anxious because I could easily meet my goal before pissing my pants. Easily. Oh God, I have to pee.

It was eight A.M. No one was even in the office yet. This goal was completely self imposed. Even if all my assorted bosses were sitting behind me watching my performance, not one of them would prevent me from taking a break. But I was answering to a completely different boss. I had to meet the overly-strict expectations I was placing on myself.

I opened the desk drawer and took out a paper clip. I used the sharp end of the clip to stick into my fist while I typed and worked my mouse. The added pain pinch would help distract me from believing I had to pee. It may seem excessive, but it's a tactic that I've used before. It was the old Paper Clip Pain Procedure. You know… the PCPP.

Heavens to Betsy, I have to pee.

I got stuck on one point, I had to spend ten minutes deducing. Problem solved, I moved on. I gotta pee. It's eight-thirty. Heaven help me if Windows picks this moment to crash. Ahhh… I've seen this validation over here. Cut and paste. PCPP prick. Damn tea. What's this? The code is accessing another package? I've got to find the other package and check. I pretty much know what's going on, but I have to look at the other package and double check. Why? Because it's the "detail oriented" thing to do. There is no bladder. There is no penis. There is no tea. Work faster. Work better. You can do it.

For reasons unknown, maybe even because of the PCPP, I was so wrapped up in not thinking about having to go to the bathroom that I actually took a small break to poor myself another mug of tea. I'm stirring in the Sweet and Low when I figure out what I've done. In my brain, I've not taken a break because I never left my office. Therefore, I'm still legal. Enough of that, back to work. It's eight forty-five. It's eight forty-five and I have to pee.

When I get to the end of the procedure, I can hear angels singing. I take notes on the final validation. Save my notes. Highlight the notes for copying into my spreadsheet, then I start closing windows. In my head, the work is not actually finished until my windows are closed. I hit ctrl-P to put my notes in my spreadsheet, and my heart sinks. What pastes into the spreadsheet is not my latest notes. I took the time to highlight my notes, but I didn't hit ctrl-C to actually copy them. And I've close the window. A precious few seconds is wasted while I open up my notes again. Highlight. Ctrl-C. Ctrl-P. Save. Close spreadsheet window. Close notes window. I've finished the ADD file. I can go to the bathroom. It's nine fifteen.

I stand up ready to go with a huge amount of self satisfaction. Jay walks into my office.

Jay is a co-worker that works in the cubicle directly across from my office. His look and manor is unique to say the least. He's a man's man and being cool is absolutely everything to him. I could only hope to be half as cool as he is. He speaks softly, he juts his elbows when he saunters down the hall, he strokes his goatee when he's talking to you. There are lots of head movements, lots of little winks at the imaginary camera. Jay thinks he's on television.

I told Jay he looks like Ming the Merciless once and the nickname stuck. Jay's the type of guy who prefers to resemble master villains. He's got the beady eyes, the sharply triangular nose, the widow's peak, and the aforementioned goatee. And he wears black a lot. When he speaks, it's at a dull whisper. You have to strain to hear him. I slightly suspect that's on purpose. Jay's the type of guy that wants you to do the work while you speak with him. You have to recognize how cool he is.

I have a field day with this type of personality. You see, in high school the pecking order was Jay's type of cool on the top and my nerdy uniqueness on the bottom. But we're not in high school anymore, and I can tease the living daylights out of this kind of man. There's just so much material here. And on top of that, Jay eats it up.

God, I have to pee.

When I bestowed Jay with the nickname "Ming the Merciless", he loved it. He approached me and wanted to talk about "That character that resembles me." I flipped out and brought the conversation to a screaming halt. "Character that resembles you? Were you around in 1934? Did Alex Raymond use you as a model? NO! Ming does not resemble you. YOU resemble MING! While in my office, you show the proper respect for pop culture characters that are almost seventy years old."

He laughed. He got a kick out of that.

But now he was in my office again. And I had to pee. And he didn't know. And I had to pee. And see I was finished the ADD file. I was ALLOWED to pee. He really should let me pee. It's only fair. I finished my work. It's my turn to pee. I'll just explain it to him in terms that even an Evil Alien Ruthless Dictator would understand.

No I wouldn't. "What can I do for you Jay?"

"I was thinking last night." Jay mumbled. He postured in my doorway, posed for the unseen camera, and scratched his goatee.

"Incredible. And what evil plans did Ming the Merciless make last night?"

Jay laughed. "No man… no evil plans today." He mumbled. "I was thinking… I think I could beat up Wonder Woman in a fair fight." Jay motioned to my mug with Wonder Woman on it, then to my lunchbox with Wonder Woman on it, then to my calendar with Wonder Woman on it, then to my clock with Wonder Woman on it, then to my Pocket Super Heroes Wonder Woman action figure.

I got the feeling he was goading me. I sighed and let my shoulders sag. "You do, huh? What makes you think that?" Holy Moley, I have to pee.

"What can she do? Nothing. I was thinking. She has a fancy rope and some bracelets. I could beat her. She can't fly. She's not strong. I can beat her."

I shifted weight from foot to foot and applied the PCPP in my pocket. It was Pocket PCPP. PPCPP. "Jay, what's your experience with Wonder Woman?"

"I watched the TV show when I was a kid. The one with Linda Connor."

"CARTER! Linda Carter! Don't you disrespect that woman while in my office!"

"That's not the point. It's the character. Wonder Woman. Yeah, I could kick her ass."

He was goading me. And really, I would be an idiot to fall for it. I've been reading Wonder Woman comics regularly since 1985. My understanding of the character was not at question. And he really didn't care one way or another. He just wanted to see me geek out and start listing ways in which Wonder Woman would win. It was one of those "Kirk vs. Piccard" arguments that are totally subjective and just a vehicle for picking on nerds. And here I was, a nerd gauntlet thrown at my feet. And I had to pee. And I had to pee BAD. It took all my willpower to not start the argument by pointing out that she CAN fly and her strength is second only to Superman.

"You're right, Jay. You could totally kick her ass. No question."

Jay looked surprised, but certainly pleased with himself. "That's what I thought, man. I'm glad you agree. I thought we were gonna have a problem there." Jay slowly began to turn out of my office doorway.

"No way would I ever cast aspersions on the character of Ming the Merciless." I smiled. All I could see was yellow.

"I thought not."

"Nope, Ming's character I leave untouched. It's you I'll be picking apart when I get back." I nonchalantly sauntered out of my office, trying my best to walk like a manly man.

"Just so you understand, I could kick her ass." He called after me as I walked away.

I walked until Jay ducked back into his cube. Then I ran to the bathroom. Made it with seconds to spare and tears ran freely down my face while I acid-sprayed the toilets clean. Aaaaahhhh.. It was time to get back to work. Hopefully, not to make another goal for the rest of the day.

DCD

Copyright 2003 David Charles Dill Jr.