Workman Chronicles 

By Morris Workman

"Thick Skin"

Published in the Desert Valley Times

June 14, 2005

I came across a message website recently that claimed I was a complete idiot.

They didn’t elaborate as to what I did to earn such a moniker, but it was in print, so it has to be true.

I’m thinking of taking all the labels that have been hung on me since coming out of the literary closet (admitting that I am a Dave Barry wannabe, taking the major pay cut, becoming a professional writer, attacking innocent yearbook kids, and using the ugly slur “adequate” in reference to the local library), and including them on my business card.

You know, like haughty professionals who punctuate their name with PhD, MBA, CPA, etc.

I would be “Morris Workman, Complete Idiot, Arrogant Jerk, Untalented Hack, Dufus, Donkey.”

(I haven’t really been called a Donkey, but this is a family newspaper and I can’t use the “A-word” that my detractor actually used.)

Since it won’t all fit on one card, I may have to abbreviate it as “Morris Workman, CI, AJ, UH, D&D,”

The bad part is that people may not know what all of the initials mean until after I open my mouth.

I’ll admit that it stings to be called such things, but it also allows me a wonderful latitude in behavior.

I can act a fool, then simply point to my title as a Complete Idiot, shrug my shoulders, and say in a perfect Tony Soprano voice, “hey, whattaya gonna do?”

Like most people, I want to be loved by everyone, respected by the powerful, admired by the meek, desired by the voluptuous, and tolerated by my wife.

However, until I finish making payments on my home-study course in hypnosis, I suspect this will have to be an unfulfilled wish.

Like it or not, this is the cost of being a semi-public figure willing to share his musings.

Even such luminaries as Bill Clinton and Pee Wee Herman discovered that, if you put it out there, people will talk bad about you.

Fortunately, I have a good support system of friends, family, and fans that simultaneously keep me grounded and above ground.

I also have a tolerant editor whose litmus test for publication basically consists of “will it get us sued, shot, or shut down?”

He has also counseled me repeatedly not to take it personally when people want to figuratively club me over the head for telling a truth they would rather not know.

I’m sure that even the kid who blabbed about the Emperor not wearing any clothes received hate mail.

So the more I write, the more I need to toughen up.

I want you to keep that in mind the next time you see me in public.

I’m not fat.

It’s just thick skin.

Published online at the Workman Chronicles WebLog June 14, 2005.

For more articles or comments, visit the blog at workmanchronicles.blogspot.com.