Accountability: Now With Cheetos and Vicks

“There is no fate but what we make for ourselves.” – Terminator 2

I believe there is a man we cannot see who watches our every action, passing judgement, and deciding who lives or dies.  But enough about the NSA.

My daughter Alia S. Wilder came to visit, and brought her son, Mosquito.  As we were sitting upstairs chatting, Alia looked over at Mosquito.  “Mosquito, please get me a Coke®.”  As all of our beverage fridges were downstairs, Mosquito buzzed downstairs to get Alia a Coke™.  There wasn’t anyone downstairs, but that was okay – I had removed all the anti-personnel mines and deactivated the laser defense grid for the weekend.

At least I think I did.

Mosquito bounced back up the stairs.  He proudly presented Alia with a can of Coke©.  It was already open.  Alia was surprised – she didn’t think that Mosquito had learned how to open cans of Coke®.

“Did you open this?”  I could hear the pride in Alia’s voice, a pride that her son had figured out how to open a Coca-Cola™ can.  Hey, we all know that kids are stupid.  I can prove it, too.  I can draw better than 94% of kids 7^th grade and younger.

There was a pause.  Mosquito replied:  “Someone did.”

No one every asks how Coke® is doing – it’s always:  “Is Pepsi™ okay?”

Since the Family Wilder has a habit of leaving semi-full Coke™ cans around the house like the Easter Bunny leaves spent radioactive fuel rods around the Former Soviet Union, we were all pretty sure that Mosquito had found the remnants of Cokes® from a bygone era.  Maybe the Upper Pugslevanian epoch?

We laughed, and then sent Mosquito back over the wall to get an unopened can of Coke®.

Mosquito had inadvertently provided me with blog fodder.  The topic?

Accountability.

The reasons I love accountability is what it means:  it’s the person who is ultimately be the one who will reap the rewards or suffer the consequences of their decisions and actions.  One of the reasons I hate accountability is that it has become a corporate buzzword which tends to turn a good word into mindless mission-statement-speak parroted by unthinking corporate lackeys.

Like me.

Buzzwords, do you speak them, Mister Falcon?  (Hint:  Google® “Mister Falcon”)

One of the things missing from society today is accountability.  I really think that this lack of accountability is at least partially responsible for the riots we’ve been seeing.  What are the rioters accountable for, besides roasting Air Jordans® over a gently crackling police precinct fire?  Are they even accountable to get up tomorrow and go to a job?

No.

Thankfully, real life provides some help in giving great examples of accountability.  People are ultimately accountable for many of the decisions they make:

• Choose a horrible degree in “French Medieval Gender Studies” and spend $273,432 getting it? You have to pay it back.
• Have a baby at 16 from a daddy who skipped to Canada? You have to raise it.
• Miss an appointment for your dream job because you slept in? I’m sure they’ll understand.
• Decided to spend your twenties travelling to distant continents while your friends worked hard? No, it’s not luck that they’re comfortable in that house in the suburbs and having kids while you can’t afford a studio apartment.
• Living your “Best Life” (The Lie of Living Your Best Life (now including cookies))?
• Realizing that your strategy of “delaying gratification is hard and only pays off later, while eating Cheetosâ„¢ always pays off now” has resulted in you catching Cheeto® lungâ„¢ and weighing as much as a Buick©?

You can tell a college student:  they’re looking for breakfast wine that pairs well with Cheetos®.

But I am here to announce an amazing idea:  accountability is freedom.

The thing I normally see is that people run from accountability.  They don’t want to be judged by what they did.  They don’t want to sign the bottom line.

But seeking accountability is really freedom.

Why is it freedom?  Being accountable is being in charge of your own life.  Too many people seek to run away from accountability, but deep down, they know that fleeing accountability is weakness.  The reality is that you are in charge of your own life, just like Darth Vader® was accountable for not one but two Death Stars™.

If, like me, you’re carrying a few too many pounds?  PEBCAP – the Problem Exists Between Chair And Plate.  The alternative is that you make yourself a victim of some vague conspiracy between biology and high fructose corn syrup.  You take the conspiracy route?  You’ve made yourself a victim.

When I was working at a convenience store I got the idea that 7-11 was an inside job.

Who likes being around a victim?  Nobody.  People like those who are accountable, and stake out that position.  It’s one of strength.  It’s the path of the virtuous.

But it has to be earned.  And, in my case?

Learned.

When I was going to High School, I often spent time at my long-term girlfriend’s house.  Her family was great.  Her father’s favorite movie was Patton.  General George S. Patton was my personal hero at that time in my life, so let’s just say that he and I got along very well.  When I went over to his place, he treated me like his son.

But one particular night, his daughter backed her car (a Mustang®) into my 1972 green GMC™ pickup.  It sent a long dent up the back end on the driver’s side.  Her father told me to go get an estimate to fix it, and I did.

The estimate was about $700.  My girlfriend wrote me a check from all of the money she’d made working fast food for several years.  I cashed it.  But then I found someone who promised they’d fix it cheaper.  How much cheaper?  Half.

I got the pickup fixed.  It looked better than new.

Great news, $350 buck for the John Wilder fund, right?  I imagined all the things I’d spend it on, since my girlfriend and I had already broken up – probably a car horn that played Judas Priest songs and maybe a car stereo that got FM as well as AM.

This truck belongs to my friend, Ben Thunder.  When I borrow it, I’ve Ben Thunder’s truck.

Pa Wilder rained on my parade.

Pa:  “Did your girlfriend pay for you to fix the truck?”

JW:  “Yup.  And I got it fixed for half that.”

Pa:  “So, why does that mean that you’re entitled to that money?”

Dang.

Dang.

Dang.

Pa Wilder had it all figured out.  My ex-girlfriend had made herself accountable for fixing my car when she gave me that check.  My implied promise was that money would go to fixing my truck, not buying a collection of small pewter animals with all of that money that she’d made working at the local chicken restaurant.

So, that put me in the uncomfortable position of having to go to an ex-girlfriend’s house and give her a check for several hundred dollars.  The upside?  That was a good time to ask for my old Alice Cooper® cassette tape back – bonus points for anyone in the comments that figures out which Alice Cooperâ„¢ tape it was.

But even better than getting the Alice Cooper© tape back was in knowing that I’d done the right thing.  I understand now that she had been accountable for fixing my car.  And I was accountable for doing it in the most cost effective way possible.

Did I give her that money back?

Well, as Mosquito would say:  “Somebody did.”