When I invented the nickle-plated, double-backed, self-addressed, user-friendly, auto-flush, toe jam remover, it was a thing of beauty. I knew instantly that I would make a mark on the world with my invention if only I could get the financial backing. I went to the bank where I had deposited all my toothbrushes (please see "mothers and other furry creatures") and asked to speak to the branch manager.

"I'm sorry, he's in a meeting," is what the nice pert lady behind the counter said to me.

"I must speak to him!!!! I stand to make millions off of an invention that I have recently constructed in my basement. If this thing sells I will have unlimited income and can buy MANY, MANY, MANY more toothbrushes to deposit into my bank account. NOW, GO TELL THE MANAGER THAT!!!!!"

For those endless seconds, as the lady behind the counter stared incredulously through me, I started to see my future crumble. Had I just run afoul? Should I have made strides to befriend this go-between? If I had taken more time and made a concerted effort to gain her confidence I might have made things much easier for myself. As things now stand, not only will she NOT get the manager, but she has the possible priviledge to have my butt thrown out of the bank.

~from the best-selling book by Daktan Wagau, "Inventions Can Ruin Your Life"
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