The Scarecrow reported for his first day of work in the exciting
world of Egg Production. He was very nervous. And, truthfully, the
girls in Egg Production were almost as nervous as he was. Being
substantially bigger than anyone else, he was assigned a vacant
nest on the lowest shelf. The girls watched carefully as he gently
squatted into position. Unfortunately, lacking knees, his legs shot
straight out.
Clara looked at Henny and nodded appreciatively. The newcomer
definitely had an interesting technique. As all egg layers know
from experience, the key to performance is patience. One thing the
Scarecrow had proved through the years was that he definitely had
patience.
For quite a long time, no one made the slightest cluck. The
Scarecrow could feel everybody staring at him, but he just looked
straight ahead and waited, regularly squeezing his abdominal
muscles as tightly as he could, just as he had been taught in
training class. But nothing happened. The Scarecrow had completed
all his training courses; he had even scored well in difficult
courses like The Theory of Egg Laying, but he had never
actually laid an egg.
This was the day he had been training for: E-day. And as the
minutes went by and he felt nothing happening, he began to get even
more nervous. He continued squeezing.
The girls didn't know what to say to him, although Cindy could
barely take her eyes off him. Finally, Lizzie asked
sympathetically, "Is there anything you need? Maybe you'd like a
comfortable pillow?"
He was so embarrassed. He knew exactly what she meant -- a
training pillow. He shook his head, "No thank you," he said, and he
could not think of anything else to say. Not one single word came
into his head. He'd spent years standing in the field wishing he
had someone -- anyone -- to talk to. He'd spent days and weeks and
months preparing to talk to someone. Now, here he was with a coop
full of hens, and he had nothing to say to them. Desperate to start
a conversation, he said politely to Clara, "Nice weather we're
having today, isn't it?"
"Actually, those are neon lights," she explained. "We have
artificial lighting in here."
The Scarecrow was so mortified, he didn't say another word for
several hours. He just sat there huffing and puffing and pushing
and squeezing, doing everything he had been taught to produce an
egg. Just one egg, he pleaded silently, please let me produce just
one little egg.
His presence made everyone uneasy. Normally, the coop would have
been resounding with chatter; but there was none of the usual
office banter, none of the friendly insults and challenges usually
heard at work. Nobody told any jokes or loudly whispered the latest
gossip. Instead, the girls who spoke did so in soft tones, and
their conversation was limited to the chicken sitting next to
them.
Finally, after a couple of hours, the daily production began.
"Incoming," a hen named Bertha on the third tier suddenly
announced. Seconds later, she produced the first egg of the day.
Within minutes, Joanna, sitting two tiers higher, shouted, "Big one
coming!" and laid a beautiful egg. "Heeeeeeeeerrrre's money!"
Hattie shouted as she dropped her quota. The department was
swinging into full production, the Scarecrow's presence all but
forgotten, as the glorious shouts started coming just about every
minute. With whoops and cheers, the girls egged each other on,
"Call me Mama!" "Egg drop whoop!" "Come on baby, come on, come on,
come on, yeah! Home run!" As Lizzie laid her egg she yelled
excitedly, "Cluck my name! Cluck my name!"
It was the worst day of the Scarecrow's life. He did everything
he'd learned. He concentrated, he squeezed, he raised himself a few
inches off his nest, his posture was textbook -- but he was not
able to lay even a small egg. By the end of the day, he was
completely exhausted. "It's okay," Lizzie said calmly, taking him
aside. "Believe me, everyone in this department has had days like
this. It's just your first day. I know how much pressure there was
on you. Don't worry about it, you'll lay one down tomorrow.
Remember," she added, quoting some business philosopher, "it isn't
failure that matters, it's how you deal with failure."