Yesterday we celebrated my coworker’s birthday with a pizza lunch. We do an in-office lunch for every employee’s birthday, every year. But even though I’ve worked at the same company for more than a decade, I rarely feel like myself during these occasions.
Obviously I am, I don’t transform into some other woman, but it almost feels as though I do, and curiously, she’s not the same woman that shows up for the weekly staff meetings.
Staff meetings are work, and purely work, they don’t involve making conversation about your real life, they focus solely on what’s going on in the office.
But in these less professional circumstances, I’m guarded about certain things, I hold back. Why? Well I guess because my coworkers don’t need to know what time I had my first beer on Saturday or that my oldest daughter is being a pain in the ass or that I’m the “you” in Me and You and Ellie.
In addition to being more cautious about what I say, I also seem to lose half of my vocabulary. I’m not able to express myself well. I’m especially conscious of my lack of eloquence around my boss in said situations.
He’s a very nice, very mild-mannered guy. He’s also a very well educated doctor who greatly values education and intelligence. In fact, I had to take an intelligence test to get my job as Production Editor all those years ago. I’m still not sure if the practice was legal or not, but my score was 99% (thankyouverymuch) so it really wasn’t a big deal, and it somehow proved to him that I was smart enough for the position.
But why is it, then, that all these years later, I’m still conscious of the smart factor around him? Or why am I hyper aware of my mothering skills when picking up my kids at school or when soothing my baby when the nanny is present?
My point, I guess, is that I sometimes tend to view myself as how I perceive others view me. A complete waste of time, if there ever was one, yet still it happens.
These different personas we have (you have them too, right?) are normal, I think, but pretty much a waste of energy. As Don Miguel Ruiz says: “You live in a fantasy where everything you know about yourself is only true for you. Your truth is not the truth for anyone else.” And I agree with this.
So why do we do it?? Why do we adjust, mutate, revise, edit?
Obviously I am, I don’t transform into some other woman, but it almost feels as though I do, and curiously, she’s not the same woman that shows up for the weekly staff meetings.
Staff meetings are work, and purely work, they don’t involve making conversation about your real life, they focus solely on what’s going on in the office.
But in these less professional circumstances, I’m guarded about certain things, I hold back. Why? Well I guess because my coworkers don’t need to know what time I had my first beer on Saturday or that my oldest daughter is being a pain in the ass or that I’m the “you” in Me and You and Ellie.
In addition to being more cautious about what I say, I also seem to lose half of my vocabulary. I’m not able to express myself well. I’m especially conscious of my lack of eloquence around my boss in said situations.
He’s a very nice, very mild-mannered guy. He’s also a very well educated doctor who greatly values education and intelligence. In fact, I had to take an intelligence test to get my job as Production Editor all those years ago. I’m still not sure if the practice was legal or not, but my score was 99% (thankyouverymuch) so it really wasn’t a big deal, and it somehow proved to him that I was smart enough for the position.
But why is it, then, that all these years later, I’m still conscious of the smart factor around him? Or why am I hyper aware of my mothering skills when picking up my kids at school or when soothing my baby when the nanny is present?
My point, I guess, is that I sometimes tend to view myself as how I perceive others view me. A complete waste of time, if there ever was one, yet still it happens.
These different personas we have (you have them too, right?) are normal, I think, but pretty much a waste of energy. As Don Miguel Ruiz says: “You live in a fantasy where everything you know about yourself is only true for you. Your truth is not the truth for anyone else.” And I agree with this.
So why do we do it?? Why do we adjust, mutate, revise, edit?
6 comments:
Love it, Beth! Happy Thanksgiving!!
Here's what you do: work at a bar. Then you never feel anything you say is stupid.
Actually, I know just how you feel. I worked with a boss for years, traveled with her, helped her, gawked at her ability and her on-her-feet-prowass, sent her emails errantly........ and always felt inferior. Then every once in a while she'd turn her energy toward ME and tell me all these wonderful things she thought about ME that I never knew...
So my sage advice? Don't worry about it. Fuck 'em if they can't take a joke. My other sage advice? For Real? Speak up. They don't know what you're thinking if you don't tell them.
Love you,
Ellie
That is indeed sage advice, Ellie! And Beth? The real secret to projecting intelligence is not what you SAY, but what you look like you know! It's all about the knowing glance . And answering questions with more questions.
Jacquie
Remember that Seinfeld? When George just always looked annoyed, and they therefore thought he was working hard?
It was, I believe, the Pensky File episode. Whenever Mistah and I see a Pensky truck driving by, we say, "There goes the file."
We do! Because we're so fun and clever!
Ellie
happy thanksgiving beth!
I've always wanted to be a fly on the wall and have someone ask people what they thought of me, but am a bit afraid to hear the answers :)
I think you sell yourself a bit
short b/c I've known you since 4th grade and you've always been smart, funny, and beautiful...even when you didn't realize it!
My skin got much thicker when I ran for school board..some of the most inaccurate stuff was said about me by people who really didn't know me and I felt like I had to convince total strangers that I was the competent, smart person I know I am. I won...and it was probably a good experience in the end.
You're the you? I though you were me.
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