You see them every day. You smile at them, make polite conversation and generally think they're pretty normal guys.
They may even be some of your best friends.
But they all have a dirty secret.
I'm writing, of course, about your co-workers. All great guys, right? Well here's something you don't know about them: They're all a part of a secret society. They meet every week with clubs and matching uniforms and they engage in primitive rituals for hours at a time.
I'm speaking, of course, about the softball league in which you were not invited to participate. Somewhere during the course of your employment you were judged without even knowing it and you have been found wanting.
That's why you're watching American Idol on Tuesday nights.
I know all this because I infiltrated the secret society a few weeks ago. I stumbled upon my work's chapter by accident. Some of the members of this exclusive softball club got lazy one afternoon and spoke of their upcoming game publicly. I poked my head over the cubicle wall and made an innocent inquiry.
They all shifted in their seats uncomfortably as they invited me to come play that evening. They probably counted on me to decline their offer. Big mistake on their part.
I showed up to the field that night with my cleats in one hand and a dirty old mitt in the other and I never looked back. Eventually I was accepted as one of their own, but not without a gruelling initiation process (which included playing catcher for one inning. Catcher is where softball players go to die).
Now I'm in the society and the air has never tasted as sweet. Now I too share in the raucous storytelling, the camaraderie, the fresh air, the mild exercise and everything else that comes with organized sports on the city level.
I strongly encourage you to find a secret society near you and break through that glass ceiling. Corner that ex-high school baseball player you work with and find out where he and the boys disappear to on weeknights. Join a softball league.
But don't tell anyone.