Tuesday, November 29, 2005
Disconnect
When your first comment on my work involves questioning how I do my job the one that won you multiple national awards there is a disconnect between my success and your need for control.
When the asbestos clearing house you boxed me in has a power failure and you tell me 'you can't work like this', there's a disconnect like maybe the whole joint is wired through your head which happened to have a meltdown today, or maybe you're just bitchy and feel like bashing someone with less power, the way landed immigrants sometimes bash welfare recipients and refugees.
When you fail to have a conversation without coming off as an inquisition and then express explicitly that those adjusting to new cultural norms must learn a hard lesson so you can leave your mark where it doesn't belong anyway and save the face of being irrelevant to such a large population someone must have tripped the fusebox to your brain.
When you are completely unaware of how poorly you're perceived among your own community let alone those having trouble accessing that neighbourhood and the one person trying to save your reputation and improve your performance is a random target of your corrective condescending lectures because he happens to be the last one left in the building that caused a situation beyond any of our control there is a systemic diconnect and you are the one in charge of the system.
When the asbestos clearing house you boxed me in has a power failure and you tell me 'you can't work like this', there's a disconnect like maybe the whole joint is wired through your head which happened to have a meltdown today, or maybe you're just bitchy and feel like bashing someone with less power, the way landed immigrants sometimes bash welfare recipients and refugees.
When you fail to have a conversation without coming off as an inquisition and then express explicitly that those adjusting to new cultural norms must learn a hard lesson so you can leave your mark where it doesn't belong anyway and save the face of being irrelevant to such a large population someone must have tripped the fusebox to your brain.
When you are completely unaware of how poorly you're perceived among your own community let alone those having trouble accessing that neighbourhood and the one person trying to save your reputation and improve your performance is a random target of your corrective condescending lectures because he happens to be the last one left in the building that caused a situation beyond any of our control there is a systemic diconnect and you are the one in charge of the system.
Labels: 2005, non-fiction, Toronto, Workplace Boredom
