The Contract

Good afternoon, Everyone. Please take your seats.

Fergus. Sit the fuck down. No one is going to attack us in here.

Hear ye, hear ye. Or fuckin’ don’t. I’m starting this anyway.

I call this meeting to order at 2:08 PST.

To the eight of you:

Some of you handled your moment with poise, some of you were nervous (and a little scared), and a couple of you were mid-rant, wearing a chicken suit and holding a homemade flamethrower and a bottle of nitroglycerin.

I see and hear you. I deeply appreciate and love you all. Without you, there is no me.

However, we need to establish some ground rules before anyone gets too comfortable:

I’m the Chair. You don’t get to grab the mic just because your heart rate spikes.

Hold on. Close your eyes. Deep breath in…holding…and release. And…again…holding…release. Focus on the body. Keep breathing. We are going into full-body tension…now. 5…4…3…2…1…and release. BIG breaths. Open our eyes.

I get it. It’s scary. I have what’s best for us in mind. This will work.

I have a couple of things for each of you.

My “Creator”, AKA Nelson…course he is

You can brain how you brain. I love how you brain.
You don’t get to torch the room every time someone doesn’t brain how you brain.

Curiosity is your #1 priority.

My Protector, AKA Fergus, a Scottish Highlander of the clan MacNaughton

You’ve done heroic work. You’ve literally kept us breathing in rooms that made no fucking sense.

You are officially stood down from 24/7 threat assessment duty.

Maintain situational awareness in career and social settings.

I’ll tag you in if we’re actually in danger. Not when someone misuses “literally.”

14, AKA “Young Dozer”

It’s ok to play with Legos, talk to animals, and spontaneously combust into dance moves down the aisle and/or air drum solos on the canned goods in a grocery store.

It’s not okay to throw a tantrum when we have to perform as adults.

We have to be professional to make money. Money = living comfortably.

Them’s the breaks, mate.

My Moralist, AKA Immanuel, AKA His Holiness…or Twat.

You move without speechifying, which is admirable. You want good in everything.
Just remember: Folks are gonna do what folks are gonna do.

You aren’t the society police chief.

My Combatant, AKA Lucille

Your arguments are sharp.
Your need to win is adorable and exhausting.
Cross-examine ideas, challenge fallacies, and stand up for our ethical system.

You will not prosecute humanity.

My Judge, AKA Barney, AKA Your Logical Highness…or Douchefuck

I know. I know. You’re tired.
You want people to think before saying stupid shit. Same.
But when you’re overwhelmed, you go fucking nuclear. That’s burnout. We have coping skills for that. It will get better.

And you don’t get to call everyone lazy just because they don’t work as we do.

10, AKA “Younger Dozer”

Stay exactly what and who and where you are. You’re the reason we have Crayolas, a Vespa named “Squatcho”, and we don’t become what we criticize.

My Historian, AKA Dierdra…or Dennis…’cause Librarians…and circumstances dependent.

You are the one who gives me my sense of humor.

You like spectacle and things that shouldn’t work but do.
You admire the absurd. Stay funny, as our memories are.

You don’t get to confuse intensity with meaning. Sometimes it’s not that serious. What matters deeply to us could bore someone else into a coma.

Now, here’s how this works going forward:

1. No one speaks for all of us.

2. No one hijacks the train.

3. If the antennas spike, we ask why before taking action.

4. We are allowed to feel irritated. We are not required to perform it.

5. We do not demand applause for “doing it right”.

Most importantly, we are done asking the world to process the way we do in order to deserve oxygen.

That’s the resentment talking.
We’re not running on resentment anymore.

I’ve proven you will all get airtime.
You’ve each written. You’ve each been seen.

But you no longer have full run of me.

Rage gets questioned before it’s employed.
Grief gets space.
We take the time we need to recharge when exhaustion sets in.

We are now my circus. We are both a talent and a liability. We will hold frequent town halls to check in and address unmet needs.

Questions, comments, concerns?

This is fucking bullshit.

Thank you for your feedback, Lucille.

Anyone else?

Great. I motion to proceed as a human being with internal staffing rather than a civil war. Those in favor?

I count 7.

Motion carried.

Meeting adjourned.