About a week ago I was at a local establishment with my brother Lou. We were drinking a few cold… sodas, and eventually our conversation made a left, then a right, and ended up at the front door of our workplaces. I didn’t give him an in-depth synopsis of what’s been occurring at my place of employment, but he could tell things weren’t all rainbows and butterflies. He can read me like any Dr. Seuss book of your choice. I thought for sure I would hear the lines, “Ahh, things will get better,” or “Keep your chin up Gipper,” but instead, I heard him laugh.

Lou looked at me and said, “Sounds like your company is in some weird form of business purgatory.”

Instead of laughing at his joke, I said, “Good Lord in heaven, I think you’re right.” After my brother stopped laughing, and I had calmed down from my brief euphoria, I began to ponder the subject of purgatory.

We’ve all heard those stories about people (usually on television) who have miraculously survived a near-death experience, but saw a light at the end of a tunnel during this journey. Of course, these people were all on their way to heaven. But I beg to differ.

I think that light may lead to St. Peter waiting to greet us in his most formal toga, pointing towards heaven or purgatory. For some reason, I always pictured him to resemble El Guapo from The Three Amigos. I don’t know why.

It’s at this point in my theory things become sort of vague. Here’s why. What do you say to St. Peter when he is standing right in front of you?

“Hi, St. Peter.”

“Hey, man.”

“What’s up?”

Personally, I think these greetings seem a tad informal. I mean seriously, this man’s best friend is Jesus. Talk about a bad first impression. But in reality, St. Peter would probably point many of us towards purgatory, or the middle, as I’ve heard people refer to it. We’ve already made the decision easy for him by the way we led our lives. Unfortunately, a number of us are like used cars, we’re pretty good, but we are not great. I guess spending some time in purgatory isn’t that bad if we eventually get to enter Heaven, right? After all, we are getting a second chance.

If the company I work for is in some form of purgatory, then I suppose we are at least on the right track. And if we are on the right track, then I better get busy with a greeting that’s suitable for the elite person in management who says we can move on. Hopefully, he or she is not in a toga, because at that point, I’ll probably laugh and forget my ultimate “Hello” anyway.