It all started with a Craigslist ad. I desperately needed help in the kitchen and I didn’t know where else to turn. 

Looking For Rodent to Hide in My Hat and Control Me While I Cook

I promised my wife I’d make a special home-cooked meal for our anniversary, but there’s one small problem – I am a horrible cook. 

It doesn’t make any sense. I follow the recipes exactly, I use high quality ingredients, I even cook with love. 

But I know that the best chefs don’t use recipes. I’ve seen Ratatouille – they simply smell their creations as they go, and they’ll know exactly what to add. 

That’s where you come in. 

Any rodents with culinary experience who would be able to hide in my hat and pull my hair to control me as I cook, please give me a call. 

Serious inquiries only. 

To my genuine surprise, it worked.

Ronnie the rat replied to my ad, and helped prepare the best Chicken Marsala that my wife or I have ever tried. 

After dinner, my wife led me to the bedroom. I tried to remove the chef hat, but my wife insisted that I keep it on. That’s how good the Chicken Marsala was. 

I was a bit nervous, since Ronnie was still underneath the hat, but he adapted seamlessly to the situation as it unfolded. He truly went the extra mile, continuing to pull my hair and guide me – controlling my every thrust. My wife was definitely impressed. 

I paid Ronnie in Cheddar Cheese and tipped him with a bit of Gouda before he left. 

It was a huge success. 

A few days later at work, I was assigned a special project that I’d be presenting on directly to the company’s CEO. 

This was an extremely important task and if it went well, I’d be strongly considered to fill an open VP position. 

As the presentation approached, I was running behind. The data was more complex than I thought, and I needed help to make sure I nailed it.

So I put out another Craigslist ad:

Looking For Excel-Proficient Rodent to Hide in My Hat and Control Me While I Work

I have a huge presentation coming up with my company’s CEO, and I am struggling to put it together. 

If you are a rodent with strong presentation skills, Excel and PowerPoint proficiency, a relentless work ethic, and who can fit underneath a fedora, please give me a call. 

Once again, it worked.

Veronica the vole, an excel wiz, helped assemble charts and graphs that blew me away.

She stayed in my hat during the presentation and controlled my body language, emanating confidence and strength. 

Together we aced the presentation and impressed the CEO. 

Now I was hooked.

I had seen what I was capable of with these rodents in control. And I was willing to overlook the small pellets in my hair if I could achieve this type of success in every area of my life. 

Charlie the chipmunk helped me bowl a 268, leading my bowling team to a league championship.

Morgan the mouse helped me perfect the solo from Freebird and my band rocked our gig at La Parilla. 

Gerald the gerbil helped me do a complete renovation of my master bathroom.

Sure, my wife was confused why I was buying so much cheese, but she overlooked it due to my constant successes. 

As the years passed and I achieved more and more, I eventually started to feel like a fraud. 

When I accepted my Emmy, I told the crowd that I didn’t deserve all this credit, that there were plenty of others who helped put this together. 

Then my speech went viral on LinkedIn as: “A Classic Example of Imposter Syndrome”. 

But it can’t be Imposter Syndrome if I’m actually an imposter. These rodents were the ones who should be getting the credit. 

A few months later, at my acceptance speech for the Nobel Peace Prize, I decided to come clean.

Only the truth could set me free.

“I can’t accept this award,” I said to a stunned audience, “I can’t accept this award because I didn’t conduct this research on my own. “

I paused for a second, then spat out the truth, “There is a rodent in my hat, controlling my every move.”

I pulled off my hat, expecting an uproar, but the audience just looked confused. I reached up to my head, but there was no rodent there. 

How was this possible?

The crowd began to laugh. 

I smiled awkwardly, said thanks, and left the stage. 

Back in my hotel room, I began to reflect on what had happened. 

Life has been such a blur lately with everything going on that I didn’t even bring my researching rodent to the award ceremony. 

Come to think of it, who was my researching rodent? And when was the last time I had one of those brilliant, disease-ridden critters help me do anything?

I racked my brain to remember. 

It must have been when I had Gabrielle the gopher help me win that chess tournament in Moscow.

But that was nearly five years ago!

I stared out my window as I wrapped my head around this reality. I’ve been rodent-free for almost five years.

I guess I just got in the habit of being successful and doing things the right way – of always giving my best effort towards everything that I tried. With success came confidence, and with confidence came more success.

And even without my rodent friends to help, this habit lived on. 

Success truly is just a state of mind.