By Stan Bednarz.
Sandwiched between the Men’s Anger Management Class and the Men’s Spousal Abuse Class, was the non-descript classroom with a circle of uncomfortable plastic chairs meant for children, not the members of the new group: Men with Attention Deficit Disorder.
Most of the men in this class had severe relationship troubles with their wives at home due to an inability to follow the simplest of orders. The women had to put their tough pants on and go to work, but before leaving they would tack a list of chores on the fridge. Most of the men had lost their jobs, because they couldn’t follow orders. They would have breakdowns at work or throw things, until one by one they would get fired and then had to pull their weight around the house. But when the women would come home, the men were in 5th grade mode, beating their head through a wall or curling up into an embryonic position on the couch. Many a night little Susie Cue was in the front room climbing the drapes or little Johnnie had a ketchup fight in the kitchen with an imaginary dragon.
Dr. Phil first brought attention to the possibility that many a men had slipped through the proverbial cracks when they grew up. Today, thanks to modern medicine, most hyper-inattentive kids are severely medicated.
Bottom-line: these men were unable to follow simple instructions at home. But the men needed a place to unwind and not feel ashamed. They needed support from others of like symptoms, and not told they were acting like big immature babies with irresponsible behavior. They had a disease! It was the MADD disease, not to be confuse with MAD COW disease.
Consequently, they needed a safe place to meet without their wives picking on them.
So they starting meeting at the Public workshops forum for men with problems in one of the old abandoned city schools.
As the months went by, great progress was made among the men, who often felt intimidated into failure by their wives constantly badgering them into submission. Along with the director, they decided it was time to celebrate their progress. Since the Triple A baseball game was rained out, they elected to take in a few drinks at the Looker’s Club, a strip joint down the road from the baseball field.
They were the perfect gentlemen and very focused when it came time to watch the pole dancers slide up and down that shiny chrome thing.
It seemed they all had a high degree of focus and had no problem following instructions on where to put those dollar bills that would decorate a girl’s G-string.
The director took note of the guys, their eyes glued to the women, following instructions with their tongues wagging beneath the hot lights. They had found their focus!
Suddenly, while sipping on his gin and tonic from the bar stool, the cagey director’s eyes widened as a flash of brilliance radiated across the bridge of his mind. He may not have discovered a cure, but he sure enough found a treatment!
After he found the bottom of his drink he had one thing left to say. “If only their wives could see them now.”