Why I am so glad I retired four years ago...

I came across the following, saved from an old blog, which I post at risk - I wrote it at least ten years ago, when I was still employed. I actually wrote this after I took down the blog and turned it into a private journal.The players are long out of the picture, myself included, but the feelings are still sharp and stinging as I reread it. I think it still has salience, and I wish it didn't.

 

 

Cruelty is never funny.

Cruelty is never professional.

A week and a half ago, on a Friday morning. I heard some harsh words in my workplace. It was intimated that I was guilty of a vice that would never have entered my mind, much less my heart. I came home that night saddened, embarrassed and bewildered. I told my best friend about it, and she was stunned speechless; she did the next best thing: ordered sesame chicken and shrimp fried rice for us—comfort food. I read our fortunes; mine said: “Answers that sound good aren’t necessarily good sound answers.”

The custom in any organization where I’ve worked has been to fraternize pleasantly with colleagues up and down the food chain. I’ve always had friends at all levels. Even the executive director and I talked today about our families, our tastes in music, my blog, and the instruments we play – and I didn’t walk away shaking in my boots, fearing that I had been out of line.

So how, then, am I to react when I am scolded by another manager and told, in so many words, that it’s not okay to assume she is my friend (is this because she’s not my peer, or that she doesn’t like me?) and to get the message that any future pleasantry that is not work-oriented might be construed as “crossing a line?” Must I not speak unless I am spoken to?

Is it invasive to chat about music with a manager? I sent her a link to my blog. Was I bad? Was that crossing a line? Isn’t it more audacious to be told that you should, in essence, know your place – in so many words?

What is wrong with this picture?

One can think this stuff, I suppose. In my more base moments, I’ve been guilty of it. But to STATE IT – to the other person’s face? Something is very, very wrong here. Professionalism, I can understand. Boundaries, I can navigate, even if I flub at first. Cruelty, I will never accept.

So, since this person has told me bluntly that it shouldn’t matter to me whether she likes me or not – so be it. It is her loss. I am going to concentrate on the good things in life, and forget about the rude remarks. But right now, I’m playing Phranc (thanks to my eclectic music collection) – and she’s singing “The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll.” Her words say it all:

 

“Oh, but you who philosophize disgrace

And criticize all fears,

Bury the rag deep in your face

For now is the time for your tears.” ----Bob Dylan