Before And After???

My friend, Yutaka, once worked as a diplomat.  He has traveled to many different places and lived in countries I did not even know existed.  He is just a tad older than me, but he has loads of interesting stories to tell from his exotic experiences.

He was sent by the Japanese government to a tiny, little-known African country to be in charge of a "cooperative effort" -- the polite, Japanese way of referring to foreign aid projects.  With this grandiose assignment, came a grandiose mansion as his residence.  

"I had never lived in such a big house." Yutaka said.  "I am not married and I have no children.  Nobody was going to visit me.  There was only me.  I don't know why they thought I needed so many rooms for a house.  I even have a swimming pool and a huge garden.  I have a chauffeur, a cook, a gardener, servants and even a pool boy!  There are more staff than residents.  It is unbelievable."  He laughed so hard that it looked like he was about to cry.  😂

One day, Yutaka noticed the swimming pool was unusually dirty with many things floating around in the water.  He summoned the pool boy.  

"The pool net is broken, Boss.  I cannot do my job." The pool boy threw his hands up. 

Yutaka was a little annoyed.  "Then, go fix the net so you can clean the pool!"  The pool boy lowered his head and went on his way.  

The next morning, to Yutaka's delight, the pool was all cleaned up.  Knowing that the home front was taken care of, he thought he would return to his work.

The moment he picked up the phone, he noticed there was no dial tone.  "What the hell is going on?  What happened to my phone connection?"  

This was way before the age of cell phones and the internet.  The landline was the most sophisticated mode of communication available to this diplomat.  He could not do his job without his home phone.  He questioned his entire staff about it; nobody could provide an answer.  

As Yutaka was pacing back and forth, eagerly waiting for the someone from the phone company to come, he noticed something dangling from the roof.   It looks kinda like the end of a wire . . .   "Did someone cut my telephone wire???"

After much investigation and interrogation, he came to find out that the pool boy was the one who did it.  

"Why did you cut my phone line?  Are you mad at me because I told you to do work?" Yutaka asked.

"No, Boss.  I am not mad."  The pool boy said kinda matter-of-fact.  "You told me to fix the net.  So, I did.  I have to use something to do that, you know.  But you see?  I am clever.  I used some wire to mend the net.  You see how clean the pool is now?  I did a great job!"  

Yutaka rolled his eyes and let out a sigh.  "These people cannot think beyond where their fingers can reach.  No wonder their country is the way it is.  I do not feel very hopeful for them."

Of course, it is convenient to say that the pool boy's action is just typical third world behavior.  Based on my personal experience, however, "Ultra Zen Masters" like him are everywhere . . . 

Recently, I was invited to teach a plant propagation workshop to members of a garden club.  As a Master Gardener, I hope to share the knowledge and joy of gardening with others.  Not only was I not paid for my work and my time, I even offered to bring some of my beloved houseplants for participants to take cuttings from them.

There were a dozen people and it was quite a spirited class.  People had fun and they got to bring many new plants home.  It was a blast.

The next morning, as I walked into my kitchen, I was met with a shocking sight: One of my houseplant that went to the class with me looked like it collapsed overnight.  😱  OMG!  WHAT HAPPENED?!!!

Upon close examination, I found out that, instead of cutting a piece off the end of a branch, people took cuttings from this viney plant (that is wrapped in circles on a trellis) by randomly removing sections of plant material at various points along the stem.  By doing so, people basically, butchered the plant into multiple pieces.  The severed pieces were just left there hanging to dry. . . 

Looking at my gravely devastated plant, I was not sure whether I should scream or cry.  "How can they do that?  Aren't these people supposed to be gardeners?  How can they just cut from the middle of a stem?  Before they put the scissors on the plant, don't they even think about what is before and after their cuts?  I can't believe it.  Argh!!!"

With much sympathy in his eyes, Mike said in an insanely calm voice, "Did they think before they cut your plant?  The sad truth is: Probably not!  To most people, all they care about is what they get to take home.  What it means for your plant?  It probably never crossed their minds.  I know you would be very careful if you are to take a cutting from someone else's plant.  But you know what?  You are not most people.  And most people are not like you.  I am so sorry." 

I almost wanted to file a complaint with the garden club, telling them how their members brutally damaged my plant.  At the end, I did not because it was my own fault:  I did not have to bring my plants, but, thinking it would be a neat thing to share with other gardeners, I did.  I could have, myself, taken pieces from my plant for people to handle so nobody else gets to touch my plant.  Instead, I allowed them to cut my plant and I did not supervise them closely enough.  I did not do a good job as an instructor because, evidently, even after the class, people were not clear about how to properly take a cutting from a plant without damaging it.  I failed the class and I failed my plant.  I wish I could blame someone else for the tragedy with my plant.  Sadly, I am responsible.