The past couple of weeks have held quite a few startling revelations for me.
Realization One:
As a copywriter, it seems my duties include adjudicating matters of literary dispute. The case in point was an accurate definition of a 'workaholic'. One party held that a workaholic is a person who has an option to leave the office, but chooses instead, to work. The other party was of the opinion that a person who works when there is a need to work, no matter what would be worthy of being called a workaholic.
Now, I take my literary responsibilities very seriously, as any of you who have spoken with me for more than three minutes and/or been corrected more than twice in three sentences will know. This mission was taken on with similar gusto. After a few moments spent deep in thought and carefully weighing the options before me, I realized I agreed with both parties in part. How to proceed now?
Simple. I put together the parts that I liked from each. Ergo, this becomes my definition of a workaholic:
A person who
a) has an option to leave the office, but
b) perceives a need to work, and therefore
c) chooses to stay back
As I was conveying my definition to the two original parties, I realized it was a perfect description of me. Memories of my manager saying, “There’s no designer, let it be. We’ll finish it tomorrow,” and me replying with, “No. This is important. I will do it myself. You leave.” flashed across my brain. The first party saw fit to verbalize the same.
Realization Two:
I am the needless martyr. If the above example wasn’t enough to show how I crucify myself, here’s another little anecdote.
I usually send rough copy to my designer (I’ve mentioned K and his music collection before) to put in a layout, then I refine it at his desk. I did the same thing recently, and when he was done with his layout, I made him move over and edited to my heart’s content, after which he came back to add his final touches. When we were done, it had to be sent out to a couple of people for approval.
K’s typing out the mail. He turns to speak to someone for a second, and I reached over to move his hand from the mouse to attach the file myself. He turns to me with an incredulous stare. This is when I realize what I’m doing.
It seems I love taking on other people’s work and getting screwed for not doing my own. Woo the hoo!
Realization Three:
The past week has been good. I’ve woken up these past two mornings with dreams that would have become posts under ‘Thoughts A-stupor’. I don’t remember them well enough anymore for them to become posts now, but that’s not the point.
I’m dreaming again. = )
