nice is quietly loud

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Maybe it’s not real “niceness” if you’re “bragging” about or even mentioning doing positive things, but my point is not to draw attention to my own actions. (I feel I have to balance out my impatience and negativity somehow.)

Mostly I wanted to highlight that it costs nothing to quietly compliment people. Whether it’s the dude in the elevator with a really stunning coat, or the lady in the airport wearing a gorgeous sweater but looking dissatisfied with everything, or the guy reading a really good book… what does it cost to break the silence (as much as I hate noise) to tell them that that they look fabulous and alive in the color they happen to be wearing, that they have a superb sense of style, or have great taste in books?

Sure, the person might not respond well. Breaking the silence and distance bubble and saying something personal is not the norm (depending on where you live, of course). But usually the person lights up and smiles and seems to appreciate that someone noticed. I wish the world were more like that all the time.

 

Different vibes

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She told me that my latest letter gave off ‘different vibes’:

“You couldn’t quite decide whether to be slightly annoyed or to embrace this emotional whirlwind. So not like you! Or at least not like the side of you you let us see. I’ve always seen you as extremely cool and composed in all situations, even somehow untouchable. Men came into your life and then left with more or less drama. But you remained self-sufficient and content to continue living your life.”

Very rarely, maybe only once or twice in a person’s life, someone will appear like a tornado – or maybe a hail of tomatoes – at least briefly throwing everything you know into disarray and drenching everything with a passata-like goo. I suppose this upending of my sense of order explains the different vibes.

Constant corporate Kool-Aid

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I could never bear to drink so never lived (or died) by the cult of corporate life. But it is certainly a journey, often surreal, when you’re in it. It seems mostly the same everywhere with certain exceptions and differences across cultures. It is a softer place, the Swedish corporate world, than say, America, but it’s no less filled with bureaucracy, blame shifting and euphemism. And much more filled with Swenglish.

The constant back slaps and pats on the head for stuff that people supposedly did or achieved that never actually happened or came to fruition. Yes, hiding behind and getting credit (and subsequent promotions and accolades) for never-implemented ideas that lingered on people’s lips and in countless PowerPoint presentations and Excel-bound plans but never lived a day outside the planning phases. It’s never the results – it’s the planning process that is rewarded.

The constant outflow of talent when actual talent realized they were being indoctrinated into a cult rather than going to a job – and needed to escape. At the big goodbye-speech event (of which there were many), filled with cake and other local pastries, the “lifers” standing around the kitchen making hollow speeches about having had “the really good pleasure of working with” so-and-so, who could always “walk the talk”?!

The constant admonishment from middle management to “prioritize right”, “using our strategy as a filter”. What does that even mean? If they understood the strategy or how strategy works, they would not use it this way, as a fluff-filler to leave their employees to their own devices in figuring out, “What the hell am I meant to prioritize?”

The constant self-praise of the middle manager, proud about the growing size of her team, as if “size is everything” and a vote of confidence in her (non-existent) leadership abilities. No, in fact, if enough competent people leave, and you are one of these lifers, floating along and not making waves, eventually you will secure yourself a relatively senior position based only on seniority. “We have to put her someplace”: A senior position (on paper) that has no teeth, of course, and about which no one actually cares. But a comfortable senior position in a creaking and decrepit old-way-of-doing-business organization, so there are still some perks.

The constant need of every person in every meeting, every department, to chime in with their “reflections”. I don’t know where they got the word “reflect” and its variations, but they have taken it too far. “Reflection” is constant, when what they really ought to say is “thought”, “observation”, “criticism” or even “mental fart”. But no, it’s always, “I reflected and…”, “my reflection is…”, or better yet, to Swedify, “One reflection we all did was…”. No, you don’t DO a reflection.

The constant and classic, in keeping with the self-important need to voice every “reflection”, interrupter. The middle management “leader” who constantly interrupts her “underlings”, because what she has to say is most important (never mind that it’s babble), often to repeat herself, and even well after she seemed to be finished and someone wants to make a point and starts talking, and she interrupts to snap, “Let me finish!”

In finishing, she delivers a speech on how everyone now needs to get to know each other on a personal level in order to process all the organizational changes. Because we don’t know what is going on in another person’s life away from work, or how they handle change or anxiety, we should become friends to ease this process. Poured liberally throughout this touchy-feely talk – references to glasses of wine. “This activity will be fun, especially with a glass of wine.” This of course must be her not-so-hidden “thing”. Drinking. If not wine, the Kool-Aid. Or, in corporate life, perhaps they are one and the same.

Photo (c) 2009 Greg Pye

The danger of “good enough”

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I think often about how the struggles we face in life shape how we live it.

I struggled a lot when I was much younger with finding a job and finding my niche. Of course this was depressing, confidence-shaking and worrisome. This has turned me into a workaholic machine, someone who cannot say no or create a good work-life balance (I’m getting there), someone who is always at the edge of paranoid, looking for the “writing on the wall” about corporate instability or shakeups and always prepared for these things. It means that I am always ready, never blindsided and know – thanks to the long struggle – that I am always going to land on my feet.

I am thankful for that. And thankful for where I have landed.

But I also feel thankful now for the struggle. I consider the question frequently now: What if, years ago, I had found an ‘Oh, I guess I can live with this’ existence/job and had gotten stuck where I was? And then never realized the bigger dreams or followed the more interesting and challenging path(s) I followed, such as moving far away and looking for freedom in everything I do?

It is the struggle that propels me forward – both because and in spite of the discomfort.

The comedy of corporate life

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Actively comparing environments in which I have worked, I laughed out loud imagining inviting someone like Reggie Watts to perform for the corporate puppets. The polite smiling but not really understanding what’s going on. Corporate life provides its own brand of lunacy and crazy entertainment. We wouldn’t need a comedy genius like Watts, who would be misunderstood anyway. The average giant company is plump with self-congratulatory pomp and unintentional hilarity.

what a difference a day makes

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Even when some aspects of life are annoying as all hell, others can be remarkably satisfying. But these opposing forces balance each other out eventually. Remarkably good days followed by forgettably bad ones.

The last few months, I have run into or talked to people (former colleagues mostly) who really brightened my mood – both in the moments spent together (from a couple of random running into cool people in Oslo to a couple of phone calls) and in the days following. During the weekend I caught up with one such former colleague and it was refreshing.

During the earlier part of this week, someone working at a coffee place remembered my name even though I had not been in there for months, and when I said I was surprised, and that the girl must have a superb memory, she said, “But you’ve been here since the beginning! How could I not remember?” (We’ve never really talked, and I don’t know her name.) On my way to the coffee place, some weird ladies on the tram said to me, “You are very beautiful.” Well, they said it in Swedish, but I was sure that I misheard them because that seemed odd. But they repeated it in English, and as odd and out of nowhere as it was, it was nice. Random niceness, especially when I don’t feel beautiful.

Various other nice things happened during that evening, and I also got a lot done. Contentment.

But then the next day, literal stormy weather arrived. Self-congratulatory corporate BS reared its head. Traffic was a nightmare. And then my bank apparently had problems with all of the credit cards it has issued not working at all. I have no other cards or cash so was pretty much stuck without dinner or options. And, as the real and present “threat” of a former and acute problem coming back to haunt has reappeared, I also got to endure the lonely and internal freaking out about things over which I have absolutely no control. Non-contentment.

Greecing the pa(i)n

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I don’t doubt that the situation in Greece is serious. But I also don’t doubt that I am one of many who feels a weariness about this topic that makes me feel completely indifferent to the details. Every single day is a “this is a do or die” or “we’re at the brink”… but every single day seems to be another step, another reprieve and another step toward going back to the table. I don’t doubt that all of this is a problem for Europe and financial markets and whatever else – I won’t even bother to analyze or find the proper terminology for it.

Weary indifference hearing the same “Greece may be kicked out of the eurozone” talk.

But what is difficult to accept, and where light is only partly shone, is on average Greek people suffering the effects of the uncertainty and the long-term austerity measures. This is the part that is most heartbreaking.

Roadkill: It’s for the birds

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Not since the film The Birds have birds quite disturbed me in the way they did this morning.

While driving along, scanning the roadsides, shrubbery and forest areas for large animals, like moose, a giant bird flew quite low and crashed directly into the grill of my car. Later when I hopped out to assess the situation, I was treated to a gruesome scene of bird innards and feathers twisted around part of the grill. I had to use the handle of a small dustpan-broom to pry the carcass out and fling it into the parking lot.

Not long after, some other kinds of birds sailed in, started squawking with proprietary intent and began feasting.

cannibal birds eat roadkill bird

Cannibalism is for the birds

Soundtrack, naturally, is Pulp – “Roadkill”

random american eyes – USA v Portugal – corey hart wins

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I missed the first US goal v Portugal in the World Cup match tonight because my VPN proxy was on the fritz – and this led to many random statements, thoughts and directions.

First when I said, “I am glad Team USA did something even if I was unable to see it with my American eyes”, this led to discussion about how “American eyes” sounds like a song (and made me think of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine and the conversation between the Bajoran Kai Winn and Cardassian Gul Dukat, “The kosst amojan is not for your eyes”). We discussed “Bette Davis Eyes” and other one-hit wonders.

I mentioned how Canadian Corey Hart should have been a one-hit wonder with “Sunglasses at Night” but somehow got at least one other hit with “Never Surrender“. My conversation partner said, “I have no idea who that is. Coreys Haim and Feldman but that’s all the Coreys I know.”

Not only did I educate him about 80s “icon” (haha) Hart, I naturally had a reference to Kids in the Hall. The “only Coreys I know” made “these are the Daves I know I know… these are the Daves I know” spring right to mind.

Never surrender, people. If Team USA could hold its own against Portugal (even if it was a draw) and if Kim Carnes can still be out there singing when her Bette Davis song is all anyone remembers, and Hart … well, Corey Hart may not have surrendered, well, we can keep on keeping on.

USA in World Cup Group of Death

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Leave it to Stephen Colbert to give us a lovely outlook on the US chances in the World Cup.

Stephen: “Why won’t he motivate our team?”

Beinholtz: “Do you mean lie to them? Tell them that they are better than he knows them to be? Nein. To love someone is to confront them with their own worthlessness.”