Fortuna

Today, Fortuna has smiled upon you as she spun her wheel, and you have been blessed to find your self in one of the greatest jobs in the corporate world. The gods have declared that you are now responsible, not only for your company, Weight Watchers, real estate holdings, but it falls on your head (with lots of help, of course) to rent the storefronts across the country from which to do business.

In times like these, your department makes money hands over fist. Choice of alternative space is plentiful, landlords at last, are begging to renegotiate contracts for more favorable terms, rents are falling, every dime you save the company fattens your bonus. Life is good.

Your retail presence has few requirements. Storefronts are best located in well maintained strip malls on busy streets, with safe and well lit parking. It is preferred that you stay near family friendly businesses, and away from pawn shops, saloons, tattoo parlors or payday loan stores. The company image is all important, and you'd hate to risk that by having unseemly neighbors, or ruffians hanging about outside your door.

Given the demands and opportunities of your new department, doesn't relocating your local store next to the Honey Baked Ham Store seem incongruous?



Toad

Be mindful of the words you choose

This story was told to me by a woman I adore. As you will see, she shall remain nameless, and blameless. I do not doubt its veracity at all, and neither should you.

This woman is conscientious of her weight, and let slip that she attends her local Weigh Watchers group on a regular basis. Those more familiar than I know the drill, but I suspect it begins with a weekly weigh in.

The story teller began by telling that she went to her regular and was greeted not only by an unaccustomed line, but also by a flustered new girl at the controls. As the narrator tells, she was greeted at her entrance at the same time another regular was leaving. The WW girl congratulated the woman leaving for her successful weeks weigh in.

Soon another woman left. She was sent packing with (note: read this out loud, its the only way it makes sense.) "sorry about your wait."

Every person in line was dumbfounded wondering how much she had packed on.

The room was suddenly silent. WW girl quickly recovered and said, " no I am so sorry I wasn't ready for you when you arrived." The mood quickly improved, and new girls job was once again secure.

It's a mistake she will never make again.

Toad

TOPS

Perhaps some of you have rightfully repressed these memories, but I was scarred for life, as 10 year old, when my mother made me sit in the back of the room while she attended a meeting of TOPS, Take Off Pounds Sensibly.

In those days, the women met in a church basement, had a several minute rah rah session, and then hit the scales. Watching adult women with tears in their eyes, approach a scale was spectacle enough, but the punch line came shortly later.

If a women gained a couple of ounces, she was whipped off the scale, and had to put on a pig hat, and recite, "Oink Oink, I'm a big fat pig". That's when the tears really began.

Even as a 10 year old that didn't seem motivational to me. I wondered why they didn't stay home. To this day I shutter when the subject of diets comes up.

After dinner on Thanksgiving, my non-competitive SIL invited my bride to join her at Weight Watchers. As any boy, born of woman knows, when mom is on a diet the family is.

Saturday, the girls sign up. Mrs. T is in full competition mode. She knows her points,she has a plan. Now, we both are at the gym daily, it's cardboard and gruel at our house. SIL never went back, and I'm feeling like Oliver Twist.

Last Saturday was the second weigh in. Mrs. T is fuming since SIL didn't go, but very proud of her loss. Occasionally, she'll ask how I'm doing. My lips are sealed.

Toad