Of course, not all of us follow that 70s ideal that self-restraint leads to a more productive workforce. Whether it’s sales, editorial or munitions, none of those departments are required to practice the control needed to manage a database containing the latest dates for John Leguizamo or the Rhythm Of Love tour featuring Will Downing, Chante Moore and Jonathan Butler. In fact, only one person in this entire company of 8931 workers is required to follow the strict lifestyle guidelines laid down in the employee handbook.

That someone is me. The tour database manager.

Oh, don’t think it’s not on my mind. When you spend the day stroking managers for their dates for Billy Ray Cyrus and Green Day, sweet-talking agents for Stabbing Westward info and plugging data into our system for Bjorn Again, it’s not easy fighting off the desires of the flesh. After all, one can think about baseball or Rosie O’Donnell for only so long.

So whenever my mind starts to conjure dreams of forbidden fruit, I think about the routing for Dick Dale. I ponder the symmetry of the Depeche Mode schedule, or the perfect balance that the upcoming Lyle Lovett tour has with nature. And if the body starts to tremble from the years of unquenched physical thirst, I clench the dates for Dan Bern and The Jeff Healey Band in my fists and I say to myself, “Self! It is I that controls the desire, not the desire that controls me!”

Then I bang my head against the wall, maybe 40 or 50 times. You know, just to show the body who’s boss.

But someday I’ll retire from this life of dates for L.A. Guns and schedules for Chicago. No more scrambling for Robert Plant dates, no more cold showers, no more dents in the wall. And when that day comes, watch out, baby!

I’ll be sowing the wild oats. I’ll be the man with the plan. Yes, sir, I’m gonna flaunt it that I want it!

However, there is one small thing, though. Well, maybe two.

First off, I want you to remember this day. Print this column right now or save it to your hard drive. Do whatever it takes to remember what I’m telling you.

Because by the time I hit retirement age at this place, I’m gonna need someone to remind me what to do next.