I really enjoyed school in the 80s. Not necessarily for the classes or tests or homework, but more for the social aspects of it. That is, with the exception of English. I always loved this class. I got to read and discuss great American classics. I learned the proper way to write (not that I always follow these rules now, but at least I learned them). And I made my acting debut in English class in 1989.

Our class was divided into groups and we were to each choose a literary figure from a provided list. We were then supposed to read the book that introduced our character. Finally, we were supposed to become said character and sit in front of the class in a mock talk-show setting and answer questions. It was a combination of acting and improvisation.

I was fortunate to have chosen Ian Fleming’s James Bond. I know what you’re thinking. I received this role because of my dashing good looks and because of the way women always flock to me. Who am I kidding? I was given this role because I was the only one in our group who could pull off an English accent. My buddy, Pat Carper, assumed the role of Howard Pyle’s Robin Hood. A few others in our group received their parts and the project was underway.

I remember the day of our show. We had to dress the part, so yes…I wore a suit. And yes…Pat wore green tights. This has nothing to do with the story. I just like reminding Pat of this. While we were in the bathroom, changing into our outfits, Pat told me that he hadn’t read The Adventures of Robin Hood and was starting to get concerned with whether or not he could fake his way through the segment.

I asked him what he did know, to which he replied that he knew Robin Hood stole from the rich and gave to the poor and that he had a band of merry men. I told him that was good enough and that I had a plan. As long as he followed my lead once we were on stage, he’d be fine. (Coincidentally, this was not the first or the last time I told Pat to trust one of my plans. And none ever ended well for him.)

I asked the girl that was playing the role of host to use her first question for me to ask about my cool James Bond gadgets. She agreed. The show started and the host introduced us one by one and allowed us to say a little something about ourselves. In my best English accent, I told every one that my name was Bond…James Bond. I let them know that I was a member of the British Secret Service and that I enjoyed my martinis, shaken, not stirred. Then I grabbed a martini glass, filled with water from behind my chair and took a sip.

When it was Pat’s turn to speak, sure enough, he let everyone know that he hung out with a band of merry men in Sherwood Forest and that he stole from the rich and gave to the poor. Pat had done his part. Now it was time for me to help him out. True to her word, the host asked me about my spy gadgets. I went on to explain how Q takes great care of me by always equipping me with the latest and greatest gear.

“For instance,” I continued, pointing to my shirt cuffs, “these may appear to be ordinary cuff links. But they’re not. These are actually ‘knock-out’ darts that I can use to subdue an enemy. Here’s how they work.” I aimed my arm at Pat and touched one of my cuff links. Pat immediately slapped his neck like a dart had just penetrated his skin. And then he dropped his head on to his chest and “fell asleep.” I’ll give his acting the credit it deserves. He stayed “asleep” for the remainder of the show, never moving an inch…even when he was called on to answer more questions. Coincidentally, he woke up right when the segment ended…just in time to take a bow with the rest of us.

I had come through for my friend when he needed help. It was a great feeling. And Pat would definitely owe me for this. That was a great feeling as well. All was right in the world…until we received our grades the next week. Everyone in our group earned an A. Except Pat. He was handed a big ol’ red F! We were in shock. Not that he and I hadn’t received F’s before. We had. On many occasions. We were surprised because we thought we had pulled a fast one on the teacher. Our rationale was that it wasn’t Robin Hood’s fault that James Bond accidentally shot him with a ‘knock-out’ dart. Why should he be penalized for that?

The answer was that Robin Hood shouldn’t…but Pat should. We laugh about it now, but it was a valuable and costly lesson at the time. Cutting corners is never worth it. The only destination that shortcuts will bring you to is failure. If we’re going to do anything in life, we must first commit to doing it the right way. It may take away some of our precious free time. We may have to make sacrifices along the way. It may not always be fun. But when we fully dedicate our time and resources and choose to have the right attitude, the end result will always be a good one. And more importantly, it will always be a worthwhile one.

All Pat had to do was read a book. It was that simple. And often, it’s that simple in our lives too. Doing one or two small things along the way can make a huge difference in our ultimate outcomes. One of my favorite quotes states, “If you start cutting corners, you’re just going to end up going in circles.” These are true words. It’s easy to cut corners…but it’s never worth it.

The next time you think about taking a shortcut in life, I hope you develop a mental picture of a high school senior, faking being asleep in front of a classroom, while wearing green tights. That’s was cutting corners really looks like!

Disclaimer: Pat did not give me permission to write this story, and I know he will plot some sort of revenge. And I can be sure he will not cut any corners in this endeavor.