Yesterday I saw a woman “walking” her dog by driving after it in her car. The dog was not on a leash, so this involved driving down little side streets as it wandered about the neighborhood. And you have to wonder, at what point does being lazy end up involving more work than just getting off your duff? Because I believe this woman had passed that point.
Today I was reminded of something that I had learned in the past year or so: people in my profession are shy. This initial thought brought with it a bevy of similar thoughts, like that being shy around equally shy people makes dealings a lot harder, and that even people in management can be, god forbid, shy. As someone who is, euphemistically, taciturn, this was quite the epiphany. For one, it became painfully clear that if I wanted to interact with these people I would have initiate things. Not just in terms of water cooler banter, but with actual work. And this means operating outside, what is scientifically termed, el zona de comfort. Fortunately as I’ve aged this has become easier, or at least, less nerve wrecking. But it still isn’t something that comes naturally, and so requires a good deal of kicking myself in the keister to get me going. Yet, while I recognize this condition, and see it making life more difficult for all involved, I find it amusing to watch older people of a higher station struggle with it. Of course, that’s just what I get to look forward to by that age. Hopefully I’m better able to handle the twinge of anxiety by then. Stupid genes…