Life as I know it...

Epilogue to Chapter 1

She knew she felt something, but was it what she sought to find? who knows...she is there right now, can you see her, still left back on the darkened path, stretching her head out towards to light, the light that illuminates the path, the path off of her path, where the tree of all trees grows older, one day asking her "Where are you moving to? Or should I say "Where are you running to"... right now, can you define yourself by a series of events, misfortunate or not, each occurring during each of the major life stages: childhood, pre-teen, teen, early adult (20-25), adult and senior? What’s your declaration? Learn from sadness, take time to process and trade places with her before you start judging her for less than tolerable qualities-->would the Olympics be nearly as influential on world politics if judging was completed before the athletes ever take center stage? "
Written by: LG, 9/9/2006

I have decided that there exists a hierarchy of personalities in the workplace, each distinctive, often endearing, but most often not; yet, I find myelf caught in another twist of my life --> does it always yields a perfect opportunity...?
I found it interesting that most people that I have worked with over the course of my career fell into the following categories:
Manic - Depressive Boss: defined as one who reminds you of your 4th grade teacher, though not in that warm and fuzzy kind of way. Rather, she walks around with security badges not so subtly tied around her visage, hoping her perfectly pink and bronze bobbi brown cheeks don't looks too noticeable. And, while new comers always think this person is the sweetest most naive individual, she is actually quite cunning in her ability to use that exterior to fool those, albeit inadvertantly, around her. She carries what she thinks is a big stick, though many on her team would disagree. Blind to most around her, she hones in on PowerPoint presentations like a flock of angry seagulls, even after the long-nights and weekends spent on it's creation. Often, she will make so many changes on your "deck", you will think that the cover sheet should have a C- circled around it, if not worse. There is never a "thank you"; only awkward parties and hugs on your birthday; and when she is getting ready for "her monthly's friend", her already obsessively odd , strinkingly happy (or is she), behavior turns into venom. Now you are happy with the C-, as she isn't feeling as nice, yielding a D if you are lucky. If you are a natural leader, you will butt heads with this far sighted manager, often confusing the concept of leader vs. manager.
The Work-A-Holic Boss: If you have the pleasure of working for that single-but-married to their job kind of person, you will suffer their martyrdom more often than being inspired by their leadership. Often clueless to others' feelings, this person is devoid of tact and people skills. Because they spend so many hours at the office, they become anti-social personalites, often finding quick flings at the office or through friends, but never lasting longer than 3-5 months. Another far sighted group, they miss the boat on those once-in-a-lifetime opportunities for your team /yourself. She will be caught up in the proverbial "weeds", which ironically enough, she will call you out for getting into, and won't see the passing ship sailing off into the distance. No matter what ailment, she is always at the office, sending email until 12 am, and thrives on how many other people notice her hours.
The I-Have-Tenure-so-got-this-job-boss: This is the manager who used to hold the role you are currently in; a fate worse then death if you are filling the shoes of the person who is now your boss. Not only will they judge you for what you do / how you do it different to her. Even worse, many companies promote from within, which is a great concept in theory, and if certain general guidelines are used when deciding who to promote, then skip reading the rest of this example and move to the next -- If your boss, bosses boss, and bosses bosses boss, seem to move up the ladder in tandem, most likely, they are tenured -- Guidelines are as follows A) they are young, bright and full of potential; don't fear us because we are you, don't hate us for being beautiful; B) they have a strong sense of self and aren't afraid to stand up for what they believe in C) Is articulate, intelligent and witty enough to carry a conversation and D) is inclined towards their left brained side; in essense, are good with numbers / slicing and dicing of data . E) Often have no tenure, so don't carry the "war stories" like other, more tenured employees.
The Dirty Old Man / Dirty Office Tramp: I know it sounds bad but they actually are a lot of fun once you get to know them. I also consider gay men who like to pinch your breasts &/or ass, in this category. You know you have found one when A) they have run out of same / opposite sex people to hit on (sometimes scoring or "going all of the way" but often times not). B) Can think, talk, say and do nothing but things related to sex -- We all have that sex kitten inside of us, but this office worker bee gets hot off of stress, enjoying a good f*ck over making love anytime. C) This person's name is part of the office rumor mill -- you know the rumor circuit is the fastest in a corporate environment, less in a start-up other than "dude, we're getting a foos-ball machine!" one, where the chicken women, miserable in their marriages, get together over the proverbial water cooler to rip apart every women and guy in the company, of course with the staple gay sidekick at their side like a sycophant, praising your beauty ad nauseum. Men will pinch butts but in that "I'm an old guy and can get away with it" kind of way (gay men are notorius at this, as well); Women will dress slightly more provocative, even in the most librarian slutty way, as they understand what men really find hot.You can't fault these beauties; they are who they are, after all.
The Pretend Friendship to Fill Your Workday: Painful as it may sound, there are people who pretend to be your friend or at least, that is what you surmise in hindsight, who leave the common organization only to drop your friendship. While many people seperate church and state, which in this case, is work and life, these people have such interesting personalities, that you adopt many of their traits. The rate of friendship grows exponentially over years, and when they feel sad, you feel sad; and when they leave and seem to forget all about you, you are challenged to pick up the corporate pieces.
The Analytic vs. Methodic - the latter is a person who is so caught up in planning their next move, that they never move, much like the manic-depressive boss. These people are excellent and planning for their next move, and in a project manager role, they can flourish. But leader of the people, they are not. The former analytic soul can make much faster twich decisions, uses a self-prescribed data-driven process for decision making but in a much smaller scale than the Methodic. The two butt heads a lot, but always respectfully, sometimes challenging the other. The methodic is inclined to see the analytic as lacking focus and always onto the "next best thing"; the analytic seeing the methodic as a "boring, more apt to purchase a savings bond than invest in a blue chip" person, yet both meet up in the middle because of their keen intellict and witty conversations about everything under the sun.
The inspiration: Once every while you are lucky enough to have 1 or 2 great bosses and colleagues in your career. These people are selflessly devoted to make their team a success, shining light of their team and always supporting and breaking down obsticles so they don't have to. This person understands that "from their success, comes my success" a simple, yet overlooked concept in business -- These people are often considered "clean up " crews, coming in to save a division of the company just in time. They are dynamic and the best type to be around, and certainly off of this list.

// posted by L E E @ 11:18 AM 0 Comments

...Get a move on...Running towards the finish, yet flawed by deterrents, obstacles and distractions along the way...Judged and criticized for god-given beauty, natural talent, raw emotion and quality of character, though never stopped as she steers the ship forward...She's momentarily blind-sided by a football to the head, that leaves a sense of permanency that permeates through her core...Few relate, fewer understand, and is most of all, liked by others...But this is where our story diverges off the beaten path and lands someone along the lesser of the two. She takes moments to understand others, though remains too caught up within her to really focus longer than 25 seconds on anything outside of her own accounts of herself. But as unrequited love does madden the truest of hearts, so does neglecting one sprits' and dreams for the future...These thoughts pass through her head as she walks past the homeless man who she does not pity, nor reject the mere existing of; For as long as she can remember, she wanted to know more about them: what was their defining moment...you know, out of their life to that point? What causes added up, leading to this resulting homelessness? What was the root cause or driver that propelled him to neglect his dreams or squash his spirit? It was just one of those things -- just one of those crazy things," he says, before holding his head in his hands and crying. And through his tears, upward signs on both sides of his mouth became increasingly present; eventually giving way to 2 bands of white, segmented into Stonehenge-like miniatures though compressed together, separated by the pink whistler that those who like to go down know all to well. And I knew what I knew just then...And like that, she felt at ease...she knew that all of her pain, her trials and travails, her joys and her sorrows, had all amounted to this moment.

Curiously, she would continue on and sit in her seat and type her type and talk her talk as she did every day---but this day, some very important businessmen strolled by on their way too work, looking as confused as she once was, cocking to look at what they perceived were "some hot looking legs" before carrying on to No-Man's Land --- Places of love and hate, relationships and enemies, information sharing and soul pilfering, where Gen X was never going to achieve the executive leadership level, constrained at the top by our parents generation, who now fill those leadership roles and from the bottom's up by a generation of epic movement known as "Gen Y"...Dramatics aside, it sounds the same, she thought, and right before her eyes, in one fell swoop, she was absorbed by the sea of suits and one in particular. On the path and spit out into the suburban surroundings outside of her comfort zone, she landed in a cage, bound by gilded glory, or so she thought. And as she watched the men merge into the background, as one by one, they succumbed to the pressure to conform to the association's rules and tardiness-policies for dues & fees that aren't received on time. A few remained, holding on to anything they could, as though futility was not a concept to take lightly, offering up moments of kindness and clarity of mind, uniqueness in music-taste, hobby choices and dramatic arts preferences...some with salt and pepper shakers on their head, others with a few strands of thread the color of a raven's back...One with eyes that transferred the soul of the earth in the depth of color, while others reflected the luminescent transference of the sky. And the trees peered into the girls eyes where pools became streams, and back into suburbia where cookie-cutters pressed down into plywood piles to create entire worlds of pastel balconies and turrets big enough for 3 + 1(don't forget the gleam in the eye) with luxury gas-swallowers designed for different terrains next to the recycling bins in the garage, and only offset by the pale lime and peach-cicle color scheme swirls on the four walls and ceiling of each little, single-unit container. Amazing, she thought, as the last ones cited examples of their intentions and feelings and concerns in hopes of execution-avoidance. She wavered; walls became easels to the girl, as though they were propping up a weary canvas as it is stretched across a picture frame...She regains composure, but realizes that she has lost the most precious thing to her.

In this moment of moments, she realized she had lost her sight; lost sight of her vision --

--In a deep and dark cave, one sees the faint path not too far from the one she was currently traveling -- And that path seemed to glisten, while ear would all but listen, to the leaves rustle in the distance, as though dancing to a tune; she called him all things; rainbows, the sun and her moon, so beautiful are rainbows, and that was what she called him, color in a black and white world, support when she needed--can you believe it? "it will never happen, I love another, not woman, but child, for this lifetime, I am taken, so you can never be real, never-no-how-no way,"
With regret and a forced sigh, the cruelty continues..."you were an infatuation, no more than a beneficial friend."clouds of strength once carried your problems, and soon it had to end," Challenging everything she understood, she stood, but for a moment, renting more space to the consciousness invaders with the biggest check, spited by life, addressed 'To who she thought she was but found out she wasn't" --"I leave this world a ventriloquist citing love's unrequited loss--a real tragedy, a tragedy of comedic intent -- implied wealth found at the scene, left by design, and intent, says the heroine of our little story--- oh and by the way, you cant take it with you; the cake on the table is off-white, and the bride continues to mingal, with businessmen and admirerers and those who claim both, stand in line for a glance of the swallow's couture if you must. But then she hears a faint sound, a piercing screetch in fact, accusing our herorine, mocking her, for merely being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and letting that one businessman create a nest, a padded den, a cloud of feathers, a lofty skyscraper of leather; he represented all things jolly, all things comfy, others lofty, some dirty at best; with a story to read, to read to her until she's asleep, where quiet soles would wake her dreams, where contradictions mask intentions, and her vision, lost but not forgotten, became her mantra, her restated goal, and proof to all around her that great things happen tp people constantly judged, who, like perception, is baked a little in reality and a little in subconscience exits to stage right.
--And so be it...what will be, will be, a cliché's so easy to see when one reinvents themselves --> but what happened to this chic one crazy, crazy night, remains locked away in her mind --> once she let me in...seconds became minutes, minutes became hours, hours became nights, eyes dusted with bright magenta-filled skies, offering the world my fabulous flights...great fun..."but just one of those things,"--She says as she turns to walk away--"Wait...," says the breathe-less figure as she moved relentlessly towards the abstract shadow of nights casting off pinstriped-barn lantern-lit lake. It was the tree who looked a bit beat-down, run-down, down into the ground, as though the down-trodden could be plunged any deeper into the ground. "It was always you, and you alone, who could change the path you were on." There was no more power to his hold, the chains around her heart were broken that day, by that tree, the tree of all trees, who saw through the sea of commonalities and generalizations to find her, standing alone, in the shadows, sorting through the rubbish, trying to find the piece of her she lost when she lost her vision...