Your winky-dink.

About 3,000 years ago when I was a teenager, I was sitting in the passenger seat of a green 1975 Chevy Nova while my friend, Chris Palatucci, steered his barge around New York City's suburbs.

We had, in the words of Chuck Berry "no particular place to go," and were driving hither and yon looking for girls, mischief and to shoot the shit. While driving, Chris told me a story about his uncle. That story popped into my head today as we subwayed down to a client meeting.

He said uncle had said something like this to him:

"So I went into the men's room, washed my hands and then took a whiz."

Chris replied, "You washed your hands before you peed?"

And here's the line I remember verbatim:

"Of course I did," his uncle replied. "I didn't want to get my winky-dink dirty."

It occurs to me that not enough people wash their hands before getting down to business. That they therefore sully the work they are about to present.

I have no trouble being flexible about work. I do not treat it like a kidney about to be transplanted. Nevertheless, I do think there should be a certain degree of reverence around work.

Treat it carefully.

Honestly.

Respectfully.

And don't forget to wash your hands.