Deal!

I am a terrible negotiator. Always have been. 

I learned quite a few skills while toiling in the corporate world, most of them too late. Like listening to others. Not flying off the handle. And keeping my mouth shut over creative differences. Had I picked up on those earlier, my rollercoaster career might have taken a more fruitful path.

Though I'd still be scratching my head and awakened at 3 in the morning worrying about dirty nursing homes.

Negotiation was never in the cards for me. Mostly because -- and I hate to quote President LumpyTits -- I didn't think I had the cards. Hence, when it came to switching jobs, I never asked for enough money. When I had employee reviews, despite some banner years, I simply accepted what they gave me. 

One particular year, I did have the cards. 

Our work was on the tip of everybody's tongues. Some loved it, some hated it. Nevertheless it was written and spoke about in magazines, press releases, even on national TV. So I demanded a little something extra in my Christmas stocking, a strained metaphor because what I really wanted was gelt.

Maybe demanded isn't the most accurate term. But I did go see the CEO and played my hand. At the time (and those times have definitely passed) I could've walked and found meaningful and $rewarding$ employment anywhere I chose. But I wanted to stay. More importantly, the CEO wanted me to stay.

It was good Christmas-slash-Hanukkah that year. Little did I know that soon my two daughters would be going to private grammar school, where tuition was well into the 5 digits, just to learn how to finger paint and sing songs about Kumbaya.

Nevertheless, I felt vindicated. Pleased with myself, thinking I've grown up and became a real businessman.

That is, until recently.

If you've ever walked by a Starbucks at 7 in the morning or a casual dining place, like Dennys, at noontime, you are sure to notice a group of altacacas. Old men, like myself, though I know I can bench press more and swim faster than any of them, reliving their glory days in between kvetching about lower pain and Sciatica.

As of late I've been an attendee at one of these gatherings. Mostly with old colleagues and advertising creative folks who have shared the same journey. On a recent one of these klatches, there was frank discussion.

Perhaps, too frank. I've come to learn that many of these friends were much more adept at the Negotiating Game. And spoke openly about their vocational spoils! 

Turns out, I am and will always be a terrible negotiator.

With the recent economic disaster, a deliberate shot in the foot by the imbecile sitting behind the Resolution desk, it's clear that with my decimated portfolio, I'm destined for that dirty nursing home. 

Sucking vegetable lasagna through a straw!