By Brad Lindemann
Tom came out of the dental office looking like he’d been on a three-day bender at a Grateful Dead concert still very much in need of a miracle. (For all you former “deadheads” who got the miracle reference, where were you when I was trying to scalp tickets in my younger days at our local amphitheater?)
Did I mention Tom’s a teetotaler? That’s why I took such pleasure in the rare opportunity to see him completely schnockered. I think I quipped something like, “I’ll have what he’s having,” to his dental assistant escort. She handed him off to me along with his briefcase, telling me to be sure to hold onto him because he was a bit wobbly.
“Ya’ think?” I said as we walked out the door and into the hallway. Tom instinctively reached for his briefcase and just kept right on going, doing a full face plant on the hallway floor. Had it not been carpeted, we would have gone straight from the dental surgeon’s office to the ER. I felt terrible, but ole Tom never felt a thing. Much to my chagrin, the next day He did remember falling. But hey, I said I only practiced servant leadership. I never claimed to be very good at it.
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