OK Chorale

One of my favorite Rodney Dangerfield bits has the legendary don’t-get-no-respect comedian imploring his audience to give him the OK sign.

“All my life, all I ever wanted was one of these,” Rodney said, joining his thumb and index finger and spreading his remaining digits. “I never got one of these.”

It’s been a crazy week, with all sorts of nonsense chasing me down, driving me nuts, and refusing to go away.

But I’ve decided to overlook all that grief and take a moment to blow my own horn, pat myself on the back, and give an OK sign to my own reflection for an incident that happened on Wednesday.

I had strolled up to the 7/11 on Fulton Street to feed my bottomless Diet Coke habit and I wanted to treat myself—or abuse myself from a nutritional standpoint—by getting one of those big drinks with tons of ice.

Yes, I know I shouldn’t be guzzling that swill at all, but there is a good side to this story, I promise.

I loaded up one of those monstrous cups with ice cubs, stuck it on the nuzzle, pressed the button and got…water. Or seltzer. Whatever the hell it was, I knew it would do absolutely nothing to satisfy my caffeine and chemical cravings.

Okay, I reasoned, I’ll take a Diet Pepsi instead. And got the same result: some clear liquid that did not match the dark and dirty stuff I imbibe by the gallon.

This is bullshit, I roared internally as I got a bottle of diet soda from the refrigerator. I’m going to complain to the manager! I want my bilge and I want it now!

I began my righteously indignant march to the cash register to give the proprietor what-for, but somewhere along the way, I was struck by a bolt of sanity.

Fill 'Er Up!

Hey, my better angel said, instead of complaining to the manager, why don’t you inform him that his soda machine is on the fritz? This is a big store, there’s a lot going on, maybe he doesn’t know about the defective dispenser.

Instead of being yet another complaining customer in city full of the chronically unsatisfied, perhaps you could tone down the whining and help this guy out.

“Your soda machine is only dispensing water,” I told him.

“Really? I didn’t know that.” He pointed to my soda. “You know these on sale? You can get two bottles.”

See that? I held my temper and got a reward of even more of that hideous stuff. I felt so good about this encounter that I made a note of it in my journal when I got back to the office.

Now I know it’s neither healthy nor realistic to expect a reward every time I keep my lid in place like some giant laboratory hamster getting a food pellet.

Holding on to my temper is its own reward in the form of better physical and emotional health.

I thought of the time recently when I stopped short of slamming my refrigerator door in a fit of rage. I felt pretty good about that, too.

These incidents are little beacons in a pretty dark place and I’m reaching them only through a sincere desire to change.

And I’m hoping that by reviewing and remember these occasions I’ll be inspired to keep improving.

For the new week I’ve decided to cut down on the diet sodas. I’ve tried quitting cold turkey before and it never worked, so I’m going to reduce my daily intake and get better acquainted with that stuff they call water.

Wish me luck on this latest venture because I’m going to need it.

And if you think of it, maybe some time during your busy day, you could raise your hand, form an "O" with your first two fingers, and give me one of these.