Confusing the Task Master
The task master walked into the room of hopeful job applicants.
All the blacks over there, he said, pointing. No one moved.
All the whites over there, he said, pointing. No one moved.
All the people with hair and skin and teeth over here, he said.
They all came forward.
The task master stared at them. Do you not category yourself? He asked.
His voice was loud and mean.
The applicants stared at him.
I have to know who you think you are, he said.
We are Americans, one said.
We are spiritual beings another said.
So he knew he had been outsmarted, and he categorized them a different way.
All of you with April birthdays over there.
Two moved.
All of you with the number nineteen in your birthday over there.
Everybody else moved over there.
This was not helpful.
How in the world do others label people? He wondered.
At this rate they were never going to get started with the training.
I have an idea, someone said to him.
Why divide us at all? Why not just train us?
This made him mad, because he was in charge here.
So he dismissed that smart ass and trained the others.
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