The Scarecrow reported for his first day of work in the exciting world of Egg Production. He was very nervous. And, truthfully, the girls in Egg Production were almost as nervous as he was. Being substantially bigger than anyone else, he was assigned a vacant nest on the lowest shelf. The girls watched carefully as he gently squatted into position. Unfortunately, lacking knees, his legs shot straight out.
Clara looked at Henny and nodded appreciatively. The newcomer definitely had an interesting technique. As all egg layers know from experience, the key to performance is patience. One thing the Scarecrow had proved through the years was that he definitely had patience.
For quite a long time, no one made the slightest cluck. The Scarecrow could feel everybody staring at him, but he just looked straight ahead and waited, regularly squeezing his abdominal muscles as tightly as he could, just as he had been taught in training class. But nothing happened. The Scarecrow had completed all his training courses; he had even scored well in difficult courses like The Theory of Egg Laying, but he had never actually laid an egg.
This was the day he had been training for: E-day. And as the minutes went by and he felt nothing happening, he began to get even more nervous. He continued squeezing.
The girls didn't know what to say to him, although Cindy could barely take her eyes off him. Finally, Lizzie asked sympathetically, "Is there anything you need? Maybe you'd like a comfortable pillow?"
He was so embarrassed. He knew exactly what she meant -- a training pillow. He shook his head, "No thank you," he said, and he could not think of anything else to say. Not one single word came into his head. He'd spent years standing in the field wishing he had someone -- anyone -- to talk to. He'd spent days and weeks and months preparing to talk to someone. Now, here he was with a coop full of hens, and he had nothing to say to them. Desperate to start a conversation, he said politely to Clara, "Nice weather we're having today, isn't it?"
"Actually, those are neon lights," she explained. "We have artificial lighting in here."
The Scarecrow was so mortified, he didn't say another word for several hours. He just sat there huffing and puffing and pushing and squeezing, doing everything he had been taught to produce an egg. Just one egg, he pleaded silently, please let me produce just one little egg.
His presence made everyone uneasy. Normally, the coop would have been resounding with chatter; but there was none of the usual office banter, none of the friendly insults and challenges usually heard at work. Nobody told any jokes or loudly whispered the latest gossip. Instead, the girls who spoke did so in soft tones, and their conversation was limited to the chicken sitting next to them.
Finally, after a couple of hours, the daily production began. "Incoming," a hen named Bertha on the third tier suddenly announced. Seconds later, she produced the first egg of the day. Within minutes, Joanna, sitting two tiers higher, shouted, "Big one coming!" and laid a beautiful egg. "Heeeeeeeeerrrre's money!" Hattie shouted as she dropped her quota. The department was swinging into full production, the Scarecrow's presence all but forgotten, as the glorious shouts started coming just about every minute. With whoops and cheers, the girls egged each other on, "Call me Mama!" "Egg drop whoop!" "Come on baby, come on, come on, come on, yeah! Home run!" As Lizzie laid her egg she yelled excitedly, "Cluck my name! Cluck my name!"
It was the worst day of the Scarecrow's life. He did everything he'd learned. He concentrated, he squeezed, he raised himself a few inches off his nest, his posture was textbook -- but he was not able to lay even a small egg. By the end of the day, he was completely exhausted. "It's okay," Lizzie said calmly, taking him aside. "Believe me, everyone in this department has had days like this. It's just your first day. I know how much pressure there was on you. Don't worry about it, you'll lay one down tomorrow. Remember," she added, quoting some business philosopher, "it isn't failure that matters, it's how you deal with failure."
