Life has a great way of reminding you not to take yourself too seriously. Take today for example. I was asked by a school to meet with them today to discuss some behavioral strategies that they could use with a mutual client of ours. Basically I spent slightly over two hours explaining behavioral techniques and giving them some really good incite into why what they are doing now hasn’t worked. After the meeting I felt really good about myself. I taught a group of special ed teachers and ed-techs how to help this kid with autism succeed in his classroom. I had them riveted, they were asking me all sorts of tough questions and I had all sorts of great answers for them. I pretty much held court during this meeting. I left feeling great. I-am-awesome! I stopped at a Dunkin Doughnuts to visit the head and grab some joe for the 2 hour drive home, all the while thinking I was the king of behavioral interventions. As I’m washing my hands I decide to gaze upon my glory and stare into my piercing blue eyes while practicing my confident nod and sly grin that I would no doubt use to dazzle my worshipers, when suddenly, I realize that the small pimple I had decided to compulsively scratch before entering the meeting had apparently bled and coagulated in a very noticeable, oblong shape exactly on the tip of my nose. Oh yes my friends, I-am-awesome, albeit slightly more humble.

I first became aware of life’s little game of what I now refer to as “Humble the fat guy” about 1997. “Men In Black” was just released and no one was cooler then Will Smith. My Great Grandmother had just passed away. My wife and I arrived at the funeral she in a very nice black dress and me in a Black suit, with black Ray Bans. Even though I was genuinely mourning my Great Granny, I was also looking very, very cool. The grave side service was done, people had hugged and I was helping my then pregnant wife into our new, bright red sports sedan. I casually walked around the side of the car, opened the door and tried to figure out exactly what the ripping sound and cold breeze in my crotch meant. It couldn’t be because I had torn my pants from my crotch to mid thigh. It really doesn’t matter how expensive the suit or how en vogue the sun glasses, you never look cool carrying a pair of pants into a gas station.

So there you have it folks. Its great to feel good about yourself and even better if you can help others along the way feel good about themselves, just remember that if you start to take yourself too seriously, life will bloody your nose and rip your pants.

`drillbit