Not Strong at All

I once had a manager (M) who took an interesting approach to how he viewed employees. I still recall that he had said this about a young woman named Charlotte: "I believe there are people who are good to have as employees even if they never do a lick of work in their life. They are important to the good will and morale of a company, and we should do all we can to keep them. Charlotte is one of those people." He said this after the owner had driven Charlotte to tears - and Charlotte quit.

I think I understand what he was talking about - at least where Charlotte was concerned. I had quit the company myself. I remember Charlotte cried in my arms on my last day. Right in front of Spouse. (We were at the Christmas party.) It was the kind of person Charlotte was.

When six of us rode in a car together to a work function Charlotte took it upon herself to personally engage each person in the car in a five or ten minute conversation. Each of us felt so wonderful and special when it was our turn. And it wasn't like we knew there were turns until we had left the car and had time to reflect. Charlotte was a people person. She loved people. And she fell in love with her co-workers. Not in a sexual way. In a loving way. She was one of those people who made you want to be at work just to see her smile at you.

I have to laugh at myself, because sometimes I think that is why the manager wanted me to return. Before I had left I had been a major force in the department. When I returned there never seemed to be any work for me to do. But the manager never seemed to be bothered by my not having work to do. Yet it seems odd that I should be grouped with someone like Charlotte.

Still, when I was finally let go, my then manager didn't have the courage to look me in the face and tell me. Instead, he asked his predecessor (M) to do it. It was the only time I ever saw M cry. Perhaps I was one of those "special" people after all. Don't know.

What I do know is there are people who see the world differently than what society generally accepts. They are not crazy - necessarily. They are often gentle people. People who take no pleasure in the pain of others and find themselves crying over people they don't even know. Some of these people have great difficulty navigating our western culture. They don't have it in them to play the cut-throat games of business and life. They just want to get along.

I may not be one of these people. Maybe I am. Don't know. What I do know is that I don't have it in me to play the games required to survive in the workplace, which is where I am going to soon have to try and be. It's why I like writing. I don't feel like I'm competing against other writers when I tell a story or write a poem. I don't feel like I'm competing at all. It's entertainment, and we can all participate and join in the fun. We're on the same team.

When I see film clips of musician jam sessions I am filled with joy to see the various musicians employ their talents to the aid of all. I think that's why I created the Legion of On-Line Super Heroes blog. It's a place where writers can "jam". Just have fun. [smiles]

For me, writing and music are two pieces of the same thing. They are tools to express the deepest feelings of love which flow from the innermost parts of my heart. Most of my stories are love stories. Same with my poems. That's what songs are, too. Most of them. Sadly, they often tend to be sad. I relate to sad so much better than joy. Not sure why. Just do.

You know what's too bad though? So many people think that if they can somehow teach gentle people to use society's and workplace survival techniques they are somehow doing them a big favor. I can tell you from personal experience that is not so. We'd rather be gentle. Surviving the workplace isn't worth the pain it takes to achieve it. I was driven out of my last job because I refused to "fight". But it was all right. It felt good not to fight. It was worth losing the job, even if I did need the money. It isn't about the money. Not anymore.

Leave us to hide in our writing. Leave us be gentle. We like it. Even if we are disgustingly weak.

"I have my books
And my poetry to protect me;
I am shielded in my armor,
Hiding in my room, safe within my womb.
I touch no one and no one touches me.
I am a rock,
I am an island." from "I Am A Rock", by Simon and Garfunkel

I do not look forward to returning to the workplace. I will be an ice cube in a fry pan. Won't last long at all. Not at all.