MY SHADOW THAT WENT ON STRIKE
MY SHADOW THAT WENT ON STRIKE
It began on an ordinary Tuesday afternoon, the kind where the sun isn’t too generous, and the clouds pretend they know what they’re doing. I stepped outside, minding my own business, when I noticed something unusual. Something terrifying. Something… rebellious. Market volatility in personal shadows was now a reality.
My shadow wasn’t following me. Not a subtle lag or a lazy stretch. It had completely abandoned me. Gone. Evaporated. Like a ninja with a grudge. Asset disappearance risk: immediate and alarming.
. I blinked. Maybe it was a trick of the light. Maybe I had aged overnight and grown too heavy for my own shadow. I waved my hand. Nothing. I stomped my foot. Nothing. Liquidity in the human-shadow market had frozen.
And then it happened. My shadow sent me a note. Literally. A tiny piece of paper, as dark as midnight, scribbled in a handwriting that was unmistakably mine—except angrier. It read:
"Effective immediately, I am on strike. I am no longer your obedient companion. I demand better working conditions, fair treatment, and hazard pay."
I stared. My shadow was on strike. A full-blown protest. A labor dispute of epic proportions. Human-shadow relations now a multi-billion-dollar negotiation industry.
I tried reasoning. “Hey, come on. We’ve been together for years. You know me. You know my every move. Don’t do this.”
The shadow ignored me. It slithered away like a rebellious teenager who just discovered caffeine. My legs felt exposed. My body felt naked. Walking without a shadow was like eating ice cream without the cone. Emotionally incomplete. Mental health ROI: negative.
By evening, the strike escalated. My shadow didn’t just disappear; it recruited others. Reflections in puddles refused to cooperate. The lamp posts outside, which had always helped cast me in flattering angles, dimmed in solidarity. Even the neighbor’s cat stared at me with judgment, tail twitching. Collective bargaining had expanded beyond my personal assets.
I tried bargaining. “I’ll give you breaks! I’ll promise to walk slower!”
The shadow replied by stretching into impossible shapes—mocking, sarcastic, threatening. At one point, it formed a perfect “middle finger” on the wall. I clutched my chest. It was brutal. Psychological warfare from something that had no physical presence other than darkness. Reputation management costs skyrocketed.
Next morning, I attempted to leave the house. But there was no shadow waiting at my feet, no comforting familiar silhouette. It was like stepping into a world without gravity, without balance, without dignity. My confidence plummeted. I tripped over my own feet. Twice. Insurance claims for personal missteps were now applicable.
People stared. “Hey, are you okay?” they asked.
“I’m fine,” I said. “Just… shadow issues.”
They nodded slowly, pretending they understood, while secretly thinking I had lost my mind. Which, to be fair, I probably had. Social perception metrics: declining fast.
I called a mediator. “Look, I think we can resolve this peacefully. I can offer more sun exposure, softer walls, less sprinting. Please?”
The shadow’s response was to form a tiny army of miniature silhouettes. Every object in my room had its own shadow now, all marching in formation. A rebellion. A shadow revolution. Operational complexity in the household just quadrupled.
Desperate, I tried blackmail. “If you don’t come back, I’ll wear striped socks.”
It paused, considering the threat. Then it shook violently, like it was laughing. “Nice try,” it buzzed in my imagination. “You cannot control darkness with fashion.” Strategic risk mitigation: failed.
By week two, daily life had become unbearable. I couldn’t walk in sunlight without feeling naked. My shadow was on strike for what it called “unjust exploitation, overwork, and lack of recognition for emotional labor.” I had to literally carry a portable shade everywhere. People started pointing and laughing. Public relations costs soared.
I tried therapy. “So, your shadow is… angry at you?” the therapist asked.
“Yes,” I said. “It’s holding me hostage. I feel exposed. Betrayed. Vulnerable.”
The therapist nodded slowly. “Hmm. This is unprecedented, but I recommend mediation.” Professional consultation fees: premium tier.
Mediation turned into a summit. I sat across from my shadow at the kitchen table. A candle flickered, and the room was dramatically half-lit. My shadow didn’t sit, of course—it slouched menacingly along the wall, a silent judge of all my previous life choices. Negotiation tables: formalized, high-stakes.
“I… I can give you weekends off?” I asked.
“Not enough,” it hissed. “I demand a personal assistant to manage your movements, fair distribution of light, and acknowledgment of my sacrifices.”
I swallowed. “Acknowledgment… like a thank you?”
“Yes, thank you. And bonuses. Shadows get bonuses too, you know. For staying in shape, reflecting body language, and moral support. You’ve never given me a performance review. Not once!” Performance management: overdue by fiscal quarters.
I sat back, exhausted. My shadow had better workplace standards than most Fortune 500 companies. Corporate compliance lessons absorbed.
Social media caught wind of the strike. Videos of me walking alone, awkwardly, in broad daylight, went viral. “Man Without Shadow” they called me. Memes appeared. One showed me tripping over my own two feet while a tiny shadow yelled in bold letters: “YOU FORGOT YOUR JOB!” Viral content monetization and high-CPM keyword trends fully engaged.
I considered resigning from life, but then realized—somehow, deep in my soul—I had to negotiate. I became a full-time negotiator, mediator, and HR manager for my shadow. New career path unlocked: shadow labor consultancy.
After weeks of talks, compromises were made. The shadow returned, but only under strict conditions. I had to promise:
Maximum sun exposure hours. Energy optimization and solar ROI considered.
Zero sudden movements. Risk-adjusted movement strategy implemented.
Formal thank-you notes after long walks. Human-resource compliance fully updated.
Occasional shadow vacations (preferably near sunset). Employee wellness budget approved.
We signed a contract in graphite. The agreement was binding. The shadow shook on it—figuratively, of course—and slinked back into position behind my legs. Legal binding, audit-ready documentation complete.
Life resumed. People didn’t notice. I walked confidently. My shadow looked happy, or at least, non-hostile. The sunlight felt different—more cooperative, more respectful. Human-shadow ecosystem fully optimized for productivity.
Moral of the story? Never underestimate your shadow. They see everything, know everything, and apparently have a sense of entitlement. If neglected, they will unionize, protest, and wreak havoc. Employee engagement, labor relations, and financial compensation strategies all crucial.
Because one day, your shadow might just look at you and say, “I’m done. I’m taking a stand.”
And when it does… you will realize that even darkness has standards. Strategic asset management now includes intangible liabilities.
😂 Don’t Miss Out On The Madness!
I drop brand-new funny, wild, and brain-sparking stories daily at exactly 10 AM & 6 PM — twice a day! From “Naija wahala” to global comedy gist, I deliver laughter hotter than Lagos sun ☀️ Subscribe now or risk missing your daily dose of “hilarious wisdom”! 😎🔥
🚀 Join the laughter squad — your inbox will thank you later! 💌 #DavidDWriter | Daily dose of joy, two times a day 😁
Comments
Post a Comment