JOE SWAMP

A different view on quality criteria

And how it did. It was Joe I had fallen upon, who had been sitting there calmly, fishing for his dinner. "Boy", he roared, "you must be dreaming! You just shied away this night's meal. This makes me very angry!" And he lifted his half-a-ton body over me. I could smell his breath in my face, this almost forgotten sour odour of slightly rotten water chestnut, and I could see his fang-framed face.

"S-sorry, Joe, it's me, Dave", I called. Still grumpy he withdrew a bit. "So, you better come up with a good explanation, dear", he said. I pulled myself together and stood up while he was starting to stow away his fishing utensils, waved his fist towards the water and shouted: "See you tomorrow!" It was answered by a mighty splash some 20 meters downstream.

"Joe, I am desperate", I started. "I need to come up with an article on quality criteria for good ecological engineering - until tomorrow, or the publisher of that newsletter will fire me". "Nay, that's not a good quality working environment", he said. "No", I responded, "I need to feed my wife, kids, cat and car with this. I'm lost, Joe, can't you help me?"

"UURRRR", he cleared his throat, "you know you can always come and live with me, Dave. Even though they did not give me that loan back then [see newsletter 11, 2005], my house is nice and cosy, there's plenty of room in it..." "Joe", I said, "but its roof has holes, it's all wet on the floor, you always have raw earthworms for breakfast and how should my girl get to school in time from there...? I'd much rather come up with a good idea for that newsletter!!!"

"I see that you reject my offer, in spite of its evident quality!" he grinned. "Quality for you!", I snapped. "Well then, Dave, what do you really need in life?", he responded. "I need...". "Oh I'll tell you, you need: peace, food, shelter, friends around you, a fire when it's cold and a good drink from time to time. I can offer you all this!"

I knew that neither the kind of good drink he was thinking of, nor his way of having peace, his water lilies, his kind of shelter or his dearest friend, the warty toad, were exactly what I needed. "Joe, please don't get me wrong", I said, "but the things you like just don't feel good for me".

"Aaaaah", he smiled broadly, "I guess your quality is different from my quality, isn't it? If you could just slip into my mocassins, you'd see how good all these things are. It's just a matter of attitude. If I was you, I'd know what to write." Saying this with the broadest grin on his face, he grabbed his fishing rod and box and slowly scuffled away. "Just come on over if you get fired", he shouted before he vanished behind some shrubs.

Staring on the track he had left in the mud I realized that he neither wore mocassins nor any other kind of shoes. I understood why his grin had been so broad. And suddenly I knew what to write about those criteria! I would just have to type them into my computer and I would be all set! Hastily I started to walk home, hoping that I would not forget until I was there...