Untitled Stresses
By paborama
- 564 reads
I have a history of flaking-out on things that overly stress me. I mean, I was once on this committee set-up to look into ways of reducing stress in industry and the other committee members were so stressed-out themselves, and so used to talking about irrelevancies rather than getting own to business, that I ended-up walking.
Then again, I was once in fairly high Local Government office, charged with the running of a month-long symposium on accessibility in the cultural sector and the external liaisons were so intent on the cultural aspects and the definitions of culture within an historical context that, again, I felt I was
drowning in a mire not of my choosing and ended-up faking the death of a family member to my employers such that I might extricate myself from this mess.
A pattern has emerged. Firstly, that I find myself repeatedly thrust into positions of responsibility that more able persons would no doubt kill to get their well-organised mitts upon/ Secondly, that I always blame external factors for what is, surmise-ably, my inability to cope with the stresses of a modern bureaucratic workplace.
In our world, we are only a Someone when we rise-up an organisation. Or when, as a freelancer, we gain a slice of public recognition. The struggling poet is just someone telling you which aisle to go to for peas in the supermarket. The musician without bookings is simply the voice on the 'phone listening to your rant about the inaccuracy of your recent electricity bill. The footman at the fancy hotel is merely an elderly skivvy to hoist your luggage to your chamber, even though he has been there near forty year and could tell you historical tales that would entertain a more entertainable person for hours on end. Yet we respect the Hotel Manager, we give time to queue for the famous author's signature, we pay for a ticket to listen to the boyband; for they have made something of themselves.
It is conceivable that a business exists somewhere that is as smooth internally as it appears to the external eye. Show me one. Show me one that has principles it keeps. One that strives for better. One that manages it finances, affairs and responsibilities in a balanced, even-handed and sustainable manner.
You'll show me a thousand. I'm the flake.
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Comments
Nothing wrong with flaking,
Nothing wrong with flaking, someone else will enjoy the challenge you left. Sometimes it's more inportant to look after ourselves than the job. (I should practise what I'm saying here!) Respect everyone, I suppose is the answer.
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