Generally, when George was stuck on a problem, be it work-related or personal, he liked to take walks. It didn’t matter what time of day or night; if he couldn’t work it out, he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he did. It almost always worked, sooner or later. On one occasion, he’d had a bug in one of his applications, and he just couldn’t get it repaired. He’d worked at it from the front, from the back, and he’d even asked that asshole Jenson to give him a hand, which had pretty much told everyone how desperate he was. Nothing seemed to work. So he stepped out into the hallway, down the stairs, out the front door of the office building, turned the corner on 9th street, walked down about two buildings, and saw a Buddhist Ashram that he’d never noticed before. He stepped inside and the head monk, or priest, or whatever they were called made a comment about looking for answers, which George couldn’t dispute. Then he’d given George a book, which he opened, read one sentence, and immediately figured out how to fix his programming error. George gave the monk a twenty dollar bill, kept the book, and ran back to the office. In little less than an hour, he not only had the error fixed, but had integrated two new features into the application that would enhance it for the end users while making it much easier to maintain and troubleshoot. The book sat on his desk now at work, and he’d referred to it now and again, but it had never provided another programming answer. It was a good book, though, and George frequently read it in the bathroom.