“You’ll be a terrible father.”
I was bitching to my project manager, Roger, about my workload. A lot of my colleagues have a problem with misusing words – I believe the term is called “malade rope” – so I thought I had misheard him.
Roger explained. “If you allow this company to make you work like you do, think of what you’ll allow your little shit-heads to get away with.”
Apt anecdote, Roger. Not more than a few weeks ago, I had sent my boss, whom I love dearly, an email after he had an episode of sorts. Work piled up and a meltdown ensued, so he disappeared off the map. While I wanted him to come back, I told him that I’d rather have him happy and gone than miserable and around. He took my advice and decided to semi-retire.
Maybe I won’t be a terrible father, but rather a hypocritical one. I’m reminded of a scene from the movie rendition of Alice In Wonderland. You know, the one that always ruins your high. I give myself very good advice, but I very seldom follow it.
It’s difficult to escape what surrounds you immediately and focus on what’s important. In this case, I let a company whose only function was to pay the bills overwhelm my dream. Lucky for me, Angus called last night and got me thinking about what’s important. He’s good like that. As of now, I feel reenergized and refocused, ready to take on the world and get my butt to Halifax. It seems like simple enough advice, but most of us ignore it. Quit a job you hate. End a relationship that’s killing you. Kick an anthropomorphic dog-broom. Otherwise, you might lose your… Well, you know.