cowboys and indians

Today is my second to last day at work.

My good pals planned a party full of my favorite pizzas and a strawberry pudding cake. It was swell. That Terri should open a bakery.

The kitchen and my desk were decorated with chili peppers, cacti and cowboy boots. On top of the cake: cowboys and indians poised for battle near a covered wagon a teepee and a cook fire.

Sometimes it feels like that at work. I envision us circling the wagons to prevent sudden attacks, stoking the fire to keep away the predators. Sometimes I feel we are on the outside, trying to penetrate the closed wagons - being kept out of the loop.

Why do adults continue to play the games they were taught as children?
And who decides who are the cowboys and who are the indians?