There's a moment in the 2011 film Horrible Bosses. The three wannabe boss-killers (Jason Sudeikis, Charlie Day, and Jason Bateman) are sitting in a police station trying to explain why they were speeding away from a crime scene. Bateman says he likes drag-racing. The bemused cop (Wendell Pierce, a veteran from The Wire) says with patent disbelief, "Drag racing ... in a Prius?" Bateman pauses (a wonderful, lingering pause), then replies, "I don't win a lot."
I'm with Bateman. I don't win a lot. Haven't ever won a lot. As I sit here trying to think of things I've won, I can come up with only a few. One year, at Harmon Middle School, I won a Thanksgiving drawing among the faculty and got a free turkey--a good thing: dollars were tight those years when son Steve was in college.
And in 1974, when the Ohio Lottery commenced (50¢ tickets), I played a few times, won a few dollars, then, very soon, realized that all I was doing each week was contributing to the winner's pile. I quit playing. Haven't played since.
Oh, and a few years ago I won a drawing sponsored by Norhio Plumbing. Got a $50 gift certificate to the restaurant of our choice. That was nice.
But, generally, I don't win stuff. I was elected 4th grade class president for a six-week term in 1953, then was removed from office when a teacher caught me going down the up stairs (I'm not kidding). I won election to the Student Senate at Hiram College, but when I ran for President my junior year, I lost (to my roommate! that was awkward). I never won the teacher-of-the-year award in the Aurora City Schools (I was there only about 30 years, so I might have won it, if I'd stayed). I did win a teaching award at Western Reserve Academy my final year in the classroom (2009-2010), and I was very pleased about it--though I also wondered, in my heart of hearts, if this was a bit like voting onto the All-Star team a veteran who'd never quite made it in his prime, but he's retiring, you know? Prob'ly oughta give the Old Guy a nod this year ...
And this week comes news of yet another blow--from People magazine. It seems they've once again overlooked me and have awarded their Sexiest Man Alive award to someone else, this time to some guy with two last names: Channing Tatum. You gotta be kidding me. Listen--I wear undershirts just like that one, all winter long. I can tilt my head a little to the left. I can put my hands in my pockets. I can look unsmiling at the camera. I had a haircut like that in seventh grade. I've been doing all those things for decades now. Sure, I don't writhe around in strip clubs (Magic Mike) feigning coitus with desperate housewives; I don't pretend I'm a high school student and seduce my AP Chemistry teacher (21 Jump Street); I don't have sneaky, illicit sex with Winona Ryder (The Dilemma). I have standards.
And I bet that's exactly why I didn't win this year--again. Standards. When you've got them, well, others just can't stand it, you know? So instead of conferring awards on the deserving they throw them at the most proximate young face and/or butt they can find.
True: There's always next year. But I'm not really too hopeful anymore. Like Jason Bateman, I've just resigned myself to being one who doesn't win a lot.
And BTW: I do drive a Prius!
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