A Story About a God
There once was a god named Chance. He was an anthropomorphic personification.
Chance, despite his playful sounding name, was actually a very bored accountant with a comb-over. He had no emotions because he spent all day pushing numbers. He had no sense of fashion either and wore really dull clothes.
People would sometimes pray to Chance, but they hardly ever knew how to get him to listen to them. One lady once wrote him a letter hoping he could help her, since he was a god after all.
"Dear Chance," she wrote, "I'm really afraid my son might go deaf. His hearing is getting worse and we're doing everything we can. Please don't let him go deaf, he's a really good kid. He gets such good grades and has a wonderful smile, not to mention he loves to sing and dance. If he goes deaf he won't be able to hear music anymore. Let me know if you can help. Signed, a Mom."
And Chance wrote back to her. He said,
"DEAR A MOM. IT IS NOT MY JOB TO PREVENT YOUR SON FROM GOING DEAF. IF HE DOESN'T GO DEAF THEN I COULD RUN OVER MY QUOTA OF NOT-DEAF KIDS WHO HAVE GOOD GRADES, WONDERFUL SMILES AND WHO LOVE TO SING AND DANCE. IF YOU CHECK THE RECORDS YOU WILL FIND THAT ALL THE NUMBERS ARE IN PERFECT ORDER. EVERYTHING IS GOING ACCORDING TO CHANCE AND THE RESULTS ARE NOT MY CONCERN. CORDIALLY, CHANCE"
Some people even wrote to Chance by mistake. One guy wrote to him thinking that Chance controlled something that he actually didn't.
"Dear Chance," said the guy, "Please help me get an A on the test. Peace out. - A dude."
"DEAR A DUDE" Chance wrote back, "I HAVE NO CONTROL OVER YOUR GRADES. YOU'LL GET AN A ONLY IF YOU KNOW ALL OF THE MATERIAL TESTED. PEACE OUT. CHANCE"
Some people thought Chance had a heart. Some people thought their letters could move him. They were wrong. The only thing that moved him were his numbers, his statistics and his quotas. But the people continued to believe that Chance had a heart, so they continued writing to him, hoping that someday, Chance would be moved.
Chance, despite his playful sounding name, was actually a very bored accountant with a comb-over. He had no emotions because he spent all day pushing numbers. He had no sense of fashion either and wore really dull clothes.
People would sometimes pray to Chance, but they hardly ever knew how to get him to listen to them. One lady once wrote him a letter hoping he could help her, since he was a god after all.
"Dear Chance," she wrote, "I'm really afraid my son might go deaf. His hearing is getting worse and we're doing everything we can. Please don't let him go deaf, he's a really good kid. He gets such good grades and has a wonderful smile, not to mention he loves to sing and dance. If he goes deaf he won't be able to hear music anymore. Let me know if you can help. Signed, a Mom."
And Chance wrote back to her. He said,
"DEAR A MOM. IT IS NOT MY JOB TO PREVENT YOUR SON FROM GOING DEAF. IF HE DOESN'T GO DEAF THEN I COULD RUN OVER MY QUOTA OF NOT-DEAF KIDS WHO HAVE GOOD GRADES, WONDERFUL SMILES AND WHO LOVE TO SING AND DANCE. IF YOU CHECK THE RECORDS YOU WILL FIND THAT ALL THE NUMBERS ARE IN PERFECT ORDER. EVERYTHING IS GOING ACCORDING TO CHANCE AND THE RESULTS ARE NOT MY CONCERN. CORDIALLY, CHANCE"
Some people even wrote to Chance by mistake. One guy wrote to him thinking that Chance controlled something that he actually didn't.
"Dear Chance," said the guy, "Please help me get an A on the test. Peace out. - A dude."
"DEAR A DUDE" Chance wrote back, "I HAVE NO CONTROL OVER YOUR GRADES. YOU'LL GET AN A ONLY IF YOU KNOW ALL OF THE MATERIAL TESTED. PEACE OUT. CHANCE"
Some people thought Chance had a heart. Some people thought their letters could move him. They were wrong. The only thing that moved him were his numbers, his statistics and his quotas. But the people continued to believe that Chance had a heart, so they continued writing to him, hoping that someday, Chance would be moved.