When I started my job, I thought I’d make new friends by bringing in cookies. Everyone loved them, and I quickly won their favor. I learned to leverage my cookies to get what I needed. People got cookies based on their CPJ (cookies per Jenny) score. If a co-worker upset me, I’d threaten that his CPJ just went down 2 points; or if they got me that report I needed, his CPJ just went up 5 points! But I soon realized that it was all give, give, give, and no one else on my team contributed any baked goods. People grew unappreciative and started “expecting” me to bring cookies every Friday. I told them I didn’t know it was part of my contract, so I stopped.

But some new hires claimed they had the best cookie recipe, so we decided to settle it with a cookie bake off. I do feel it was a ploy to bring my cookies back in, but I agreed to their self-seeking interests. I made the cookies the night before, and baked them in the morning. But while I was distracted getting ready for work, I left them in the oven a little too long. I thought they’d be okay, but I knew in my heart it wasn’t my best. I didn’t have any more dough, and I was late for work. These had to be my entry.

I quietly watch the judges taste the cookies, containing myself not to throw out excuses that I accidentally left them in too long. I graciously watched another batch win. My (burnt) cookies ended up in second place.  

I’m a Badger, and we tend to choke under pressure. Troy freezes up with 2-foot putts for par; my dad speed checks before the finish line in ski races; Chris falls short in ping pong at the 20^th point; I lose cookie contests.

As I watch the Olympics, I sympathize with those athletes who miss the gold by hundredths of a second. They’ll be haunted by that nanosecond forever. I baked my cookies for a minute too long, and I’ll have to live with those mistaken 60 seconds for the rest of my life. What if I had a perfect cookie, a perfect performance? Would I have won first place? I won’t know.

They say winning the silver is worse than winning the bronze. Silver medalists will always live with being second. Bronze medalists are glad they just get a medal and aren’t 4^th place and lost in the pack of non-medalists. I don’t want to withdraw from the excuse bank, but it wasn’t my best performance. But that’s how competition works. You have to perform. Even though I know my cookies are superior, I still failed to deliver.

Part of me wishes I didn’t participate, but I’d like to think that I am a better person for trying. You only get better with every competition. Next time I’ll do a better job watching the clock.

And in the meantime, I get the pleasure of telling my co-workers I’ll never bring my cookies to work again as I clearly have an inferior recipe (look who lost now!).

**So if Jenny wants to date you, she’ll make you cookies to increase her attractiveness. But it’s not something you’ll want to take for granted. Your CPJ is highly volatile to any sign of misbehavior.