So the powers that be decided to send me on a women’s development course. The thinking behind the course is that women, although good at what they do, do not have the natural ability to progress past the glass ceiling. Apparently, women are bad at networking, bad at self promotion and generally bad at blowing their own horns. (Horror of horror, the glass ceiling still exists although HR denies any knowledge of it. But they will investigate.)
This blog
is not about the course as it is quite valuable and it teaches a load of
useful skills. By useful I mean useful in the corporate sense. It will not
teach you how to survive after you voluntarily parachuted into the last virgin
jungle on earth inhabited by cannibals. Those skills are taught by Bear Grylls.
(Or maybe not.) But then a lot of people will argue that surviving the Bora
Kora Tribe of Cannibals is still a lot easier than surviving a supreptious knife-to-the-back
attack of that career minded bitch smiling innocently at you at the coffee
machine.
Part of the development course involved identifying your strengths. And based on a 10 minute questionnaire, all
humanity is divided into the following categories: The drivers, the analytic ones, the empathetic ones ....sorry, can’t remember the rest. I have always
been plagued by adult ADHD except when it comes to memorising the sequence of
songs on ABBA albums or the names of books written by Margaret Atwood and
Jeanette Winterson.
It appears
that most of the people in my development course are what the people in the
know refer to as “Drivers.” Those people who in corporate jargon “get the job
done.” In ordinary language people who obsess over every little
detail, micro manage their teams into asylums (I still like the word. The term “mental
health institution” does not conjure up the same sense of dread as the word “asylum.”),
hardly ever smiles (except when they greet the client) and colour code their
closets.
And then,
behold, the Drivers smirked and smiled in a knowingly way, knowing that they
are the chosen ones, the superior beings, the ones who will take this accounting
firm to the next level of success and world domination. And the rest of us
cringed, struggling to admit that our closets are a mess and that we go on
holidays without booking accommodation prior to our arrival at our chosen
destination.
The tyranny
of the drivers and the tyranny of the morning people seem to rule this world.
If you do not arrive in Johannesburg, after a 2 hour drive from Pretoria
because of horrendous traffic, bright eyed and bushy tailed, you are not
regarded as an asset to the firm. If you cannot function without 2 cups of
filter coffee, you are not deemed to be worthy of the term “team player.” Sigh.
But is
there something to be said for doing nothing. For not necessarily making things
happen. For sometimes just letting go? And not worrying about the outcome? Gasp,
shock, horror, exclaimed the Drivers.
I tend to fix things. I try to get dying bees
to fly again by giving them sugary water in a tea spoon. (A couple probably gave
me a bee zap sign, a tiny, extending, quivering bee middle finger. “Just bloody
let me die in peace, human”). When my best friend and my then main squeeze
decided to hook up, I tried to mend the friendship. When friends turned against
me, I tried to do everything in my power to fix it. When my family became
embroiled in a huge fight I arranged a dinner for everyone, getting them to
make up. When my co-workers are unhappy I try to mediate and fix things. But then something happened and this past weekend and I decided to do nothing about it, despite the hurtfulness of what was said.
And it set
me free. I realised that I do not have to fix everything, make everything better for other people, try to understand why they act in a certain way. Not only because of the mere impossibility of succeeding in my endeavours and in the process setting myself up for perpetual failure but because I am just so tired of doing it.
That one
moment of not reacting, not fixing, not doing, set me free. It was the most
amazing liberation since the day that I decided that I am not a Christian anymore
and that I do not have to set my foot in any church, ever again.
Does the
act of trying to do something act as a way to ignore the true facts of the
matter? Does doing something delay the onset of that realisation of the heart
sinking, painful inevitable truth of things? Until you've stopped trying, you
do not have to deal with the outcome of a matter. So even the most futile
efforts is better than facing what is inevitable.
That is why
people pray, that is why they sign useless online petitions. Then they do not
have to deal with anything because, in their thinking, there is still the
opportunity for change.
Maybe it is time that I should stop doing things, stop trying to fix things. And it is not necessarily a bad thing. Only when you stop will you be able to contemplate and deal with the truth.
