Struggling for Compromise

Zophrastus Zup (pronounced ‘Zoop!”) is not having a good day.

ZZ, as he is known to just about everyone but his mother (who happens, to ZZ’s great embarrassment, to instead be exceedingly fond of the diminutive ‘Zophie’), is a conciliator. Today, however, his conciliation attempts have so far proven largely unconvincing to either of his hopefully-conciliating parties.

For the past 4-1/2 hours, ZZ has been trying to bridge the conceptual contractual chasm between Local 614 of The Amalgamated National Photocopier Unjammers’ & Repairmen’s Union (ANPURU) and The Association of Really Ticked-Off Office Workers (ARTOOW).

As we can see from our vantage high above the conference table of Meeting Room 312B, Marketing Department, ZZ has just four words of mutual agreement scribbled onto his largely-blank arbitration draft; they are “shall”, “its”, “date” and “whom”. No wonder ZZ’s normally-porcelain pate is showing some stress fractures!

Never fear, though. ZZ is resourceful, and, after a brief respite — in which he will cinch his skinny tie a bit tighter and skinnier, crimp his carefully coiffed curls ever more snugly about his nape, splay his spatulate fingers in a spokier spread, and purse his pucker into a still smaller ‘o’ — he will continue conciliating until collaborative contract contentment is completely and coordinatedly consummated.