Himself and the Tin Man

About 16 years back I arrived at work one morning to discover a suit of armor at my desk. The Tin Man belonged to my boss, who wanted to recognize me for my heroic and gallant efforts on behalf of the team and the company during a demanding and difficult project. Though just a temporary loan, the knight-in-miniature was a welcome token of appreciation.

Himself and the Tin Man

The Tin Man and I enjoyed several days of diversion together, and he was a popular conversation piece with colleagues. I did put him to work here and there, but for the most part he was just eye candy.

 

Tin Man at work: not just a pretty face

A couple of months later my celebrity status came crashing to a halt when I declined to work on an objectionable project. We were handling publications for a state agency that sponsored what was euphemistically dubbed women's reproductive health initiatives, but was really a means to promote birth control and abortion. The assignment hit my inbox, and I immediately replied to my boss that I would not work on it; I wouldn't even facilitate the work by passing it down the line to a colleague. Ah, I was the unwelcome black sheep after that; my time with the company ended in less than a year.

Did I save the lives of any unborn children through my non-participation in a shabby assignment? I can't say, but I doubt it. More importantly, I did not lose my soul over the matter.

Where is the Tin Man today?