Here’s something I was thinking about this morning. Ready? Imagine this. You find this new job. You really want the job, so you apply for it. You find out there’s only one other person applying for the job, but nobody thinks he’s qualified for it. Absolutely everybody has been telling you for like a week that they’re certain you’re better than this other guy–they would even bet on it. Finally, you show up for this hour-long interview and knock the first few questions out of the park. You’re crushing this thing for, I don’t know, almost eight minutes. And then…you shit your pants. You try to clean it up, but it’s bad. There’s shit everywhere. It’s running down your leg. It’s on the walls. Total mess. The next 52 minutes is a disaster. Obviously, you don’t get the job, you know, because you shit your pants. Also, it turns out that the other candidate nobody seemed to think much of is actually pretty damn good, so he gets the job and deserves it. You’re totally bummed. You can’t wait to just get home, take a shower, and forget about it. One problem: You walk in the door only to find your wife sleeping with him. His car is in your driveway. His stuff is all over your house. Your wife comes out, tells you it’s over, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

Man, could you imagine? That would be BRUTAL, huh?

Tough break.