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...

Material Girl

Living in a material world,

And I am a material girl.

You know that we are living in a material world.

And I am a material girl.

Can she make it on time if she pushes snooze again? She doesn’t know but she’s willing to risk it. Already? There’s the radio again. This time she has to get up. As she stumbles out of bed she knows she shouldn’t have pushed snooze. Now she has to hurry.

She rushes to the closet wondering why she didn’t take the time last night to get organized and figure out what she was going to wear. Surely there is a clean pair of black pants in there. She thinks she can never have too many pairs of black pants so she buys them whenever she finds them on sale. Those don’t look too bad. A little wrinkled, but she thinks she can smooth them with a wet rag and the blow dryer. It’s quicker than ironing.

There’s a black tank top. That will work. Black is supposed to make you look slimmer, right? There is no way she’d ever wear something sleeveless at the office. It’s too cold. Besides that those arms are pitiful. Where is that jacket, the blue one, with the black buttons? There. That’s a lot better. She always tries to hide her many imperfections.

Finally, with a to-go cup of coffee, she’s out the door. Where are the keys? She doesn’t need the confusion this morning. Thankfully it’s not too far to work. She sings loud as she drives. And she’s there. And she realizes she should be thankful because she has a job.

What happened to do what you love? That’s what they said in school. But doing what you love is complicated. There are bills to pay. There are shoes to buy. There are things she wants, things she needs, things that take money. She has a life to live and if it has to be done it can at least be done with style. So it’s to work, every day. Or has she settled? Does she just go because she has to exist?

And she dreams. She dreams in color. And she dreams in texture, smooth, bumpy, squishy, soft and fuzzy. And she dreams of warmth. The picture, rows of colored yarn, any color you could ask for. And she thinks if she was doing what she loved, she’d be there, in a comfortable chair, a favorite movie, needles and yarn in hand, creating, designing and knitting.

But she’s a material girl.

Living in a material world.

I’d still rather be knitting than much else. I’m sure it will pass. Maybe I’m just tired. The weekend helped. I didn’t have to do anything. Alan was working so I was by myself. I could do what I wanted. And I did. The Anthroplogie scarf may have hit a snag. I had more than enough yarn according to the pattern, cast on 100 less stitches, and had the same measurements going. But it looks like I won’t have enough to finish it like I wanted. Decisions. Day 283, January 8 is Saturday. Nothing going on at all. I’m excited! Coffee, movie, knitting, movie, maybe getting dressed, maybe not! Just so many choices! I took it easy. I used a turquoise/green wool that I really like. It may go into the Anthropologie scarf if I need it to. Day 284 is Sunday. It’s January 9 and another relaxed day. I’m getting the yarn cabinets ready for yarn. I’ve actually started with the red. It’s all the red and pink I’ve found so far but I have a feeling there’s more. I’ll go into orange and yellow next, which I doubt I have too much of, then on to green, blues and purples. I’ll leave the browns and blacks til last and might put all the ribbon type together. I might keep the dishrag cotton together in one place too. It’s sure going to be interesting seeing what all I have! I choose red, to remember this is where I’ve started. Day 285, January 10, I feel a little like a government agent or something! I’m the eraser, archiving illegal users on a software package we have at work. It’s kind of fun in a convoluted sort of way! I’m not choosing randomly. I have a list. And I also have asked to have the entire campus turned off. I’m waiting for the phone calls to begin! I chose a blue and white wool blend. I just used it for a cowl or infinity scarf. It reminds me of the sky and clouds. January 11, day 286, and I am on overloaded! We have a guest speaker letting us know the changes for the next school year in the dreaded tests the students are forced to take to graduate. It seems as soon as they master something it has to become harder. The presenter used an example of the math he took as a senior in an advanced class being the same his nephew is taking now in 4th grade. So how come there’s so many dumb people out there? Ah, well. I chose purple eyelash yarn. Purple is supposed to mean royalty. That seems to be what the people who decide to rule these kids lives think they are. I won’t start. On a bright note, the lady who created the knitayear project contacted me about possibly using my strips in an exhibit. It would be overseas. It’s an interesting idea. I might participate. Wonder how much it would cost? ;)

Living in a material world.

And I am a material girl,

You know that we are living in a material world.

And I am a material girl…