The company I work for puts out a memo once a week. One of the sections this week was called "Life's Lessons". This is what it had to say....

Always remember those who serve. In the days when an ice cream sundae cost much less, a 10-year old boy entered a hotel coffee shop and sat at a table. A waitress put a glass of water in front of him. “How much is an ice cream sundae?” he asked. “Fifty cents,” replied the waitress. The little boy pulled his hand out of his pocket and studied the coins in it. “Well, how much is a plain dish of ice cream?” he inquired. By now more people were waiting for a table and the waitress was growing impatient. “Thirty-five cents,” she brusquely replied. The little boy again counted his coins. “I’ll have the plain ice cream,” he said. The waitress brought the ice cream, put the bill on the table and walked away. The boy finished the ice cream, paid the cashier and left. When the waitress came back, she began to cry as she wiped down the table. There, placed neatly beside the empty dish, were two nickels and five pennies. You see, he couldn’t have the sundae, because he had to have enough left to leave her a tip.

A touching story, sure. I feel, though, under pressure as if belonging to some sort of cult. That's not true, I feel no pressure really, but something about a fable in the weekly memo disturbs me. Maybe it's the way the doctors bitch, some of them, about the work hours, and spend a lot of time and attention about who is working where and when, and whether anyone is getting over on the rest of the doctors. There is obviously room for improvement in the professionalism department, yet someone feels the need to preach morals.