The Motivational Stinker
Motivation, manipulation, and one very suspicious smell - this is the story of how I survived a seminar and nearly puked on a guru.
Do you know your life’s purpose?
No?
Think about it.
What makes life worth living?
No?
Think about it.
What will you sacrifice your life for?
No?
Think about it.
Do you know what makes your life worth dying for and all that shit the motivational gurus ask?
No?
Think about it.
Are you done thinking?
No?
What were you doing when I asked you to think?
Reading?
Well, how dumb is that? You can’t even take orders? Or have you lost control over your attention?
Think about it.
Ok, now if you are still reading this line, you surely have some attention problems. Because I asked you to think about something. Not just something. But something really important. Something over which your life depends. But you are still reading!
If you keep reading, who is going to think about life’s purpose and all that shit I asked you?
Because if you can’t answer it for me, how can I answer it for the motivational guru who asked me all that shit I asked you?
I was supposed to answer him yesterday. In the auditorium. When he looked at me, pointing his finger —
“What’s your life’s purpose?”
I looked at the person next to me, although I knew exactly where his finger was pointed.
Towards me.
“I am asking you. The man in the bright yellow shirt,” the guru pointed his finger.
I looked at the people sitting behind me, although I knew exactly where his finger was pointed.
I was the only person wearing a bright yellow shirt in the auditorium.
The guru walked to me, shook his head in despair, and asked,
“I am asking you. What makes your life worth living?”
I ignored him.
The guru gasped. Everyone heard him.
How do I know it when I was ignoring him?
Well, I was looking and smiling at everybody as they turned and glanced at me.
Except, of course, the guru whom I was ignoring.
The guru entered the row I was sitting in.
There were around eleven people to my left and thirteen people to my right.
How do I know?
Well, I was counting while ignoring the guru’s questions.
And unlike you, I have full control over my attention.
So I know where to direct it and where to divert it.
The guru slowly dragged himself, pushing his broad exteriors around either the people’s faces or the chairs’ backs.
The guru tapped my shoulder again.
“What will you sacrifice your life for?”
I shrugged him off and turned away — standard procedure by now.
How do I know it was the guru who tapped me and not some other frustrated guy from the audience?
Well, again, attention.
Once you have control over it, you don’t need to think or see who’s tapping you.
Unlike you, of course, who can’t take orders or control attention.
“Hello. Sir? Mr Yellow Shirt?” the guru tapped me harder.
“Do you know what makes your life worth dying for?”
I looked at the man to my right since the guru was on the left.
The man gestured to me to look at the guru.
I smiled and shook my head.
The guru scratched his head.
People around looked worried, thinking I have some problem.
The guru shoved past the man to my right and sat beside me,
oozing righteous motivation.
I immediately turned my face to the other side.
But the motivational guru was extremely motivated to hold my head and turn it towards him.
One eighty degrees.
How do I know the guru was motivated?
Well, I was attentive, unlike, of course, you.
I heard him muttering curses under his breath, so I knew what was motivating him to act.
Also, don’t you know when somebody touches you out of frustration and turns your head?
If you don’t, seriously, you have some attention problems.
Anyway, the guru was now holding my face in his hands and keeping it straight at him.
I tried to move my head to the other side, but he didn’t let me budge even an inch.
I knew what I had to do.
I closed my eyes shut.
The guru was flabbergasted.
He tried to open my eyes with his fingers, but I closed them shut harder.
Soon, more fingers joined the attack — neighbors helping the guru pry my eyes open.
How did I know with my eyes shut?
Attention, of course.
My nose recognized their body sweat instantly.
If you don’t believe me, give your nose some attention while it smells something stinky the next time.
Ok, anyway, after a while, somehow the men and the guru opened my eyes.
The guru breathed a sigh of relief.
“Hi Sir… Big Fan,” I smiled at the guru.
The guru creased his brows.
“Thank you.”
All others were looking at us attentively for the last twenty-three minutes.
How do I know people were staring at me for exactly twenty-three minutes?
Well, attention, of course.
That’s where you direct it when you want to escape.
You can hear the clock ticking in the background if you pay attention to it.
Anyway, coming back to the story.
The guru looked at me and wondered about something.
I shot my eyebrows asking him.
He scratched his neck to think.
“Why are you here, Guru?” I gasped, as I was tired of his scratching.
The guru tried to remember as his scratching reached his nose.
I shot my brows.
He shrugged, stood up, and moved his broad exteriors against the people sitting in the row to return to the stage.
The guru had forgotten what he wanted to ask me.
He had no control over his attention.
If he had paid attention, he would have known from the start that I was not really ignoring him.
Actually, I was bored with his motivational crap.
So I had directed my attention to the stinky smell coming from my neighbours beside me.
I was so intrigued that I wondered —
How could anyone smell so bad?
Can that be someone’s life’s purpose?
To spread the stink around?
Can that smell make people sacrifice everything, even their lives?
When I was looking behind me, I wasn’t ignoring the guru.
I was just trying to confirm if the smell had reached the people behind me.
I was doing the same when people stared at me—
and when the guru asked me those stupid, silly questions.
Then, when I looked to my right and left, I was still trying to confirm the same.
When the guru held my face in his hands, I closed my eyes.
Not because I wanted to ignore him.
But because I was afraid of how he’d react when I puked on his face —
thanks to the smell that had finally reached my head.
Anyway, coming back to the story.
The guru remembered what he wanted to ask.
He didn’t remember.
The guy in the front row reminded him.
I was paying attention, unlike, of course, you.
The guru looked at me.
I looked back, holding my breath.
“What’s your life’s purpose? What makes life worth living? What makes it worth dying for?” the guru asked.
I stood up.
“Can I think about it and tell you tomorrow?”
I moved my broad exterior against people’s faces while exiting the row and the auditorium.
Do you want to know what I answered to the guru the next day?
Think about it.
If you still don’t get it, read the first few lines again.
And then go see a doctor.
Because I hate people who can’t pay attention when someone is speaking.
And once you’ve fixed it, come prepared with the same stupid questions I asked you —
about life’s purpose and all that other shit.
Because I’ll be asking you the same questions in my motivational seminar:
“How to Deal with People’s Stink and Still Survive”
— A Motivational Seminar by Mr Yellow Shirt