Emily, the friend with whom I share my apartment, is what you call a roaring A-type personality. Her job is her life. She is extremely punctual. Every morning precisely at 7:30 a.m., she'd bid me goodbye so she could start her commute to her job. And at her place of employment, nobody worked harder, or strived for perfection, as much as Emily.

But this apparently wasn't enough. Emily's employer was slowly replacing older workers with younger ones, saying what they lacked in experience they made up for in energy. Emily was devastated that she could lose her job. So she decided that if her employer wanted youth, youth she would give them.

Emily phoned her cousin, a sentry at an Air Force base in Ohio, who was charged with guarding a hanger long speculated to house remnants of a crashed flying saucer. She explained her problem and what she needed. And while the cousin said that would be against the rules, he nonetheless complied.

Emily received by FedEx a small jar containing a glowing blue liquid. I pleaded with her not to ingest such queer looking stuff. But Emily said she better drink it all, if she hoped to meet the youthful competition and keep her beloved job. And she did, triggering a big change in herself.

But then again, she really didn't change at all. Emily is still extremely punctual. That's her waving goodbye to me as she catches the 7:30 a.m. bus to preschool. And at preschool, nobody works harder or strives for perfection, as much as Emily. Her teacher predicts that if Emily carries this attitude into adulthood, she'll easily qualify for a good job ­ unknowingly referring to the same type of job Emily earlier had. Emily is very happy with this assessment. Go figure!


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