I’ve got a strange job. Imagine a pot at the end of a rainbow, a pot full of gold, guarded by a red headed leprechaun.
Well, I’m the leprechaun. I decide who gets the gold, and how much they get.
These people in line for the gold, they scream at me. Call me names. Fight. They want the gold, but it is my job to be fair. After all, I can’t just give gold for nothing (although that seems to be the popular belief).
It isn’t such a great idea to yell at the leprechaun. It makes me weary. Tired.
All day they yell, yell, yell, and it is always the same thing. A broken record. Everyone in line for the gold has the same sob story.
I used to care. I really did. “Oh, you need the money for your daughter’s funeral? Well, here you go!”
Then I started to do research, and found out they’ve been using the same story on all the leprechauns.
For over 20 years.
So now, I don’t give as much. I’m not so generous. Very skeptical. I don’t smile anymore, my heart strings are no longer tugged…the question is, does that make me a better leprechaun, or a worse leprechaun?
