Saturday, April 20, 2013

Remain Nameless

I wish to remain nameless 
And live without shame… 

I once had a discussion with a former supervisor. I had received a promotion of sorts and I asked what my title was. I was told I didn’t need a title. Surprised, I asked why. He said titles don’t mean a thing. When one did a good job people recognized that and titles weren’t needed. So I asked if I could call him Head Custodian instead of Superintendent. That’s when I found out that a title did indeed mean something!

In the end I got my title. It was some long, wordy, nonsensical jargon that was created in retaliation for my comment. (Do bosses retaliate? That could be another post for sure!) Anyway, when I was asked or wrote it down it was laughable. It couldn’t fit it into my elevator speech! An explanation was always needed for clarity.

As most people do, I changed jobs. According to statistics, these days people change jobs on the average, 11 times in a lifetime. I haven’t. In fact, I wasn’t expected to ever leave the one I had. But it was time. Departure also meant losing my trumped up title.

I realized quickly the new employment was a dead end position. That’s not to say it’s a bad job or that I have no ambition. The structure dictated the rules. There was one head honcho, one number two honcho and about five regular honchos. Then there were the worker bees. I was a worker bee.

I’m still a worker bee, and I do have a title along with all the other worker bees; the same one in fact. This title is short and means about the same as the fabricated title of yore; absolutely nothing. It fails to describe what I do for the company which is what I thought was the purpose of a title. In fact, couldn’t a clear job title describe a person's expertise with greater specificity, therefore explaining that person's role more clearly? Alas, it’s not to be.

Enter new management. New leaders bring change. The structure is basically the same but suddenly there are assistant regular honchos. How does one become an assistant regular honcho one might ask? Good question. The job posting/interview process is followed but it’s quite easy to spot the recipient. And if there are two favored recipients they become co-assistant regular honchos. They get titles like Co-Assistant Honcho of Creating Tasks or Assistant Honcho of Browning the Nose. Do I sound envious? Believe me. I’m not!

Lately there’s been the novel idea that it would be useful for everyone to know everyone else’s specialty in the organization. Could that not be accomplished with job titles that actually mean something? Maybe I should make a suggestion to the Assistant Honcho of Contemplation.

You can call me anything you want.
You can call us what you want.

If you’ve seen any news about America at all you know it’s been a tough week. First the senseless bombing in Boston then the tragedy of the fertilizer plant blowing up most of the small town of West, Texas. It’s stressful, even for spectators who aren't directly involved but view helplessly, the endless pictures on social media or listen to the newscaster offering ceaseless updates on situations that aren’t improving. Even if you’re far from the location you can’t help but feel the sadness and devastation of all those affected. And I knit.

This doesn't capture the bright orange color. Montego Bay Scarf.
There’s also some good. Like Mr. Rogers says, look for the good. People are being kind and generous to one another and helping each other to get through the turbulence. It makes me wonder why it can’t always be that way, just treating people as you’d like to be treated.

Cause what's in a name, 
Oh I still remain the same...

Friday, April 12, 2013

Stupid Girls

They travel in packs of two or three… 

It was another meeting. She was on a new committee. What had she read, just yesterday about committees? Oh, yes, it was something about how a camel looks like a horse that was planned by a committee. And that was the tone this meeting was taking.

The group was diverse. Members included higher up administration, middle workers and even support staff in the form of secretaries. And let’s not forget the stupid girls. The experience level was just as varied. There were veterans with 30 years and newbies with 3 months. And with that came a multiplicity of viewpoints.

Isn’t it curious how knowledge is discounted with age? She knew it happened. In fact, hadn’t she thought her own mother ignorant at times? This was somewhat different because it was work experience. The amazing thing was that she could actually see it happening. The stupid girls made sure. Expertise seemed to count for nothing. The inexperienced bucked the pioneers, shooting down or elaborating until the simple became convoluted.

Ideas were tossed in and thrown out. Conversation peaked and lagged. There wasn’t a vote but finally the chair got a consensus and wrote it on chart paper, an act that makes it inarguable.

The assembly ended at noon and each was dismissed for lunch. The afternoon would lead to the mundane work routine that had been established. She quickly ate and tried to catch up on the many email and phone call messages that were left.

What? Seriously? Yes, there it was, right on the screen; a complicated, tortuous email from one of the rookies. It was a better idea because the stupid girl felt the group didn’t have a focus. And better because it was her idea. There was an attempt at lightness of tone but it was transparent. The stupid girl was making it obvious that she held much more intelligence than the group. If that weren’t bad enough some of the other stupid girls replied and validated the narcissism. Fortunately the fearless leader made no comment. Hopefully the silence lasts. Possibly it will send a message.

She thought if she has to spend time on the committee she’d just as soon the strategy the committee formulated remains constant, after the meeting ends. In the meantime she’s wondering to herself if she ought not to call in dead for the next meeting.

The above is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual committee meetings or persons, stupid or not, is entirely coincidental. 

Stupid girl, stupid girls, stupid girls… 

I guess I’m an introvert. It’s not that I don’t like people. I do. Some of them anyway. But it doesn’t bother me in the least to spend time alone, with the radio or television in the background, working or calmly knitting or playing with yarn.
It’s so much easier dealing with just my personalities than trying to please the many one comes across in a day! So I’ll just work on something, counting the stitches silently in my head and try to stay out of trouble!

Where, oh where, have the smart people gone?

Monday, April 8, 2013

Hey Jude

Hey Jude, don't make it bad…

Today is Julian Lennon’s birthday. He turned 50. 5-0 years old! Wow!

I'm blessed with relatively young parents, in their early 70s. They got married right out of high school and I was born a year later. When I was three, my sister came along. They were kids with kids.

This kind of looks like my dad's hot-rod...the family car!

We’d cruise the drive-ins, windows down, radio blasting and the two of us, my little sister and I, feeling so important, sat in the back seat. Sometimes we’d hear country music and sometimes something more exciting, like the Beatles. We’d sing, “She Loves Me, Ya Ya Ya” or "I Want to Hold Your Hand", loud as we could until dad changed the channel.

It seems like it was just the other day. And now I hear Julian Lennon’s been around for half a century. I wonder where the time has gone. I turn on the oldies channel to hear the Beatles. Occasionally their songs are too old for even them! If they aren’t found I’ll put in a CD. I’ll sing along, loud as I can, and nobody changes the channel. And I think about the two little girls, singing off key, in the back seat.

Take a sad song and make it better…

Except for the clasp, I’m finished with the kumihimo cord for my pendant. The pendant came from Anthelion Jewlery and is beautiful!

Waiting on the clasp to finish this necklace.
I’m either going to have to figure something out with end caps, which is suitable, or wait for the clasps to come in. Oh the decisions…

Remember to let her into your heart,
Then you can start to make it better.