The Giftie
Nov. 30th, 2013 07:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kafjA couple of times recently I've been surprised to learn how other people see me:
- One of the choristers said to me, a couple of weeks ago: 'I'm sorry you're leaving, because every time I turn around you're smiling.'
- Big Boss, doing the Farewell Speech And Presentation yesterday, 'You'll be missed, not just because of the excellent work you've done for us, but also because of the contribution you've made to the social life of this office.'
Which is interesting, because in my mind I am a quivering ball of antisocial jelly, and my mental picture of myself is not particularly smiley as a result. As I say, both those comments surprised me, rather, although when I thought about it a bit they made more sense. After all, singing makes me happy, and I am a regular participant in, and occasional instigator of, office jollities. And both times I've welcomed that little jolt to my self-perception, because it's actually been rather flattering.
The counterpart to the Quivering Antisocial Jelly is the Merciless Robot Administrator. At work, and to an increasing degree at home*, Merciless Robot Administrator pretty much runs the show. She is very clear-headed, very efficient, calm, confident, a demon proofreader (first person to spot the inevitable typo in this post will get a prize), possessed of an accurate memory and adaptable as anything.
When Merciless Robot Administrator takes a day off, Quivering Antisocial Jelly is scared of answering the telephone and tends to end up crying in the kitchen. Quivering Antisocial Jelly is convinced that no one really likes her, and can never think of anything to say.
I was moping on Thursday (you may have noticed), and the substance of this moping was really my fear that my colleagues would miss Merciless Robot Administrator**, and be all too glad to see the back of Quivering Antisocial Jelly.
Will they miss me, or will they miss my proofreading skills?
I moped some more about this last night, after about the second pint. And my manager, God bless her, somehow managed to get what I was meaning when I was wailing, 'But will anybody really miss meeeeeeeee?' and say something very helpful, the exact wording of which I forget because I'd had rather a lot of beer by that point. But it was something about all being the same person.
Anyway, I woke up with a fully-deserved hangover at half past five this morning, and, not being able to get back to sleep, thought about this for all of three seconds, and appreciated her point.
So far as everyone else is concerned, the question I was asking makes no sense, because this distinction only exists in my head. The answer is 'Yes', because the question was 'Will they miss me, or will they miss me?' It's all me.
So far as everyone else is concerned, the person who can write a table query is the person who knows how to use apostrophes, who is the person who cries in the kitchen, who is the person who does really good minutes, who is the person who sings in the post room and stops whenever anyone else comes in, who is the person who remembers to print out external candidate expenses forms and forgets to give them to the candidates, who is the person who hides behind a book at lunch, who is the person who is always up for a trip to the pub, who will have thought ahead and booked a couple of tables, who will by the end of the evening be the one who is weeping into her beer.
Nobody else knows who's in charge of my brain today. What a remarkably refreshing thought.
There is something here that I've completely failed to express, about integrity. It's always about integrity.
__________________
*Which I think must be very confusing for poor Tony, who is used to dealing with Quivering Antisocial Jelly. When I was having particular problems with depression, Merciless Robot Administrator would get me through the day, and I'd get home and then just wibble for entire evenings.
**I know they will miss Merciless Robot Administrator, because they've said so. There are at least two of them missing her at this exact minute; if she hadn't left the region yesterday, she'd be signing delegates in to a large and likely contentious meeting. They have said, 'Who will we get to proofread things, when she's gone?' They have said, 'I'll be phoning you to remind me how to do this.'
They have also said, 'You'd better come back for Book Club.' But for some reason I wasn't hearing that.
- One of the choristers said to me, a couple of weeks ago: 'I'm sorry you're leaving, because every time I turn around you're smiling.'
- Big Boss, doing the Farewell Speech And Presentation yesterday, 'You'll be missed, not just because of the excellent work you've done for us, but also because of the contribution you've made to the social life of this office.'
Which is interesting, because in my mind I am a quivering ball of antisocial jelly, and my mental picture of myself is not particularly smiley as a result. As I say, both those comments surprised me, rather, although when I thought about it a bit they made more sense. After all, singing makes me happy, and I am a regular participant in, and occasional instigator of, office jollities. And both times I've welcomed that little jolt to my self-perception, because it's actually been rather flattering.
The counterpart to the Quivering Antisocial Jelly is the Merciless Robot Administrator. At work, and to an increasing degree at home*, Merciless Robot Administrator pretty much runs the show. She is very clear-headed, very efficient, calm, confident, a demon proofreader (first person to spot the inevitable typo in this post will get a prize), possessed of an accurate memory and adaptable as anything.
When Merciless Robot Administrator takes a day off, Quivering Antisocial Jelly is scared of answering the telephone and tends to end up crying in the kitchen. Quivering Antisocial Jelly is convinced that no one really likes her, and can never think of anything to say.
I was moping on Thursday (you may have noticed), and the substance of this moping was really my fear that my colleagues would miss Merciless Robot Administrator**, and be all too glad to see the back of Quivering Antisocial Jelly.
Will they miss me, or will they miss my proofreading skills?
I moped some more about this last night, after about the second pint. And my manager, God bless her, somehow managed to get what I was meaning when I was wailing, 'But will anybody really miss meeeeeeeee?' and say something very helpful, the exact wording of which I forget because I'd had rather a lot of beer by that point. But it was something about all being the same person.
Anyway, I woke up with a fully-deserved hangover at half past five this morning, and, not being able to get back to sleep, thought about this for all of three seconds, and appreciated her point.
So far as everyone else is concerned, the question I was asking makes no sense, because this distinction only exists in my head. The answer is 'Yes', because the question was 'Will they miss me, or will they miss me?' It's all me.
So far as everyone else is concerned, the person who can write a table query is the person who knows how to use apostrophes, who is the person who cries in the kitchen, who is the person who does really good minutes, who is the person who sings in the post room and stops whenever anyone else comes in, who is the person who remembers to print out external candidate expenses forms and forgets to give them to the candidates, who is the person who hides behind a book at lunch, who is the person who is always up for a trip to the pub, who will have thought ahead and booked a couple of tables, who will by the end of the evening be the one who is weeping into her beer.
Nobody else knows who's in charge of my brain today. What a remarkably refreshing thought.
There is something here that I've completely failed to express, about integrity. It's always about integrity.
__________________
*Which I think must be very confusing for poor Tony, who is used to dealing with Quivering Antisocial Jelly. When I was having particular problems with depression, Merciless Robot Administrator would get me through the day, and I'd get home and then just wibble for entire evenings.
**I know they will miss Merciless Robot Administrator, because they've said so. There are at least two of them missing her at this exact minute; if she hadn't left the region yesterday, she'd be signing delegates in to a large and likely contentious meeting. They have said, 'Who will we get to proofread things, when she's gone?' They have said, 'I'll be phoning you to remind me how to do this.'
They have also said, 'You'd better come back for Book Club.' But for some reason I wasn't hearing that.
