Resolution Devolution

The New Me

Every year since the 7th grade, I have owned, meticulously updated, and carefully followed a daily planner.  In these planners, I've written all educational, professional and personal tasks & appointments in obsessive detail.  Over the past 20+ years, I've often wondered how my life would proceed if my planner were ever lost, destroyed, or stolen.


Several weeks ago, I was headed to an appointment in downtown Portland, and I put my planner in my bag.  The following day, my bag was stolen out of my car.  Because I was (a) completely freaked out about potential financial repercussions, and therefore focused on debit/credit cards & my cell phone, and (b) on summer break, with very few appointments/responsibilities to keep track of, it took several days for me to remember that the planner had also been in the bag.


When I realized that fact, my soul morphed into this:

LIFE NOW ENDS

However, after approximately 38 hours of completely freaking out (and failing to locate a replacement planner that was acceptable, with each day broken down into 15-minute increments), I realized that I had been granted an opportunity to make a change in the way I manage my life.  I determined that I would not purchase a replacement planner, and, more importantly, I made a resolution to be less organized.

An excellent point!

This is one example in my recent trend of making devolutionary resolutions.  Lately, I have decided that it is not in my best interest to be a with-it, helpful, positive, contributing human being.  Therefore, I am now striving to be more of a schlub.  This seems like a much more rational and convenient approach towards life.


Organization is something I've been painstakingly dedicated to for the majority of my conscious existence.  And after 36 years, I have found that being obsessively organized has had no truly positive effect on my life.  I suppose one could extrapolate from the well known patience maxim, inserting a different virtue, and determine that "organization is its own reward," but in reality, organization simply leads inevitably to the curse of competence.  For those of you unfamiliar with that phenomenon, it manifests itself much like this:


Competent Person:  I'm going to do my job well.  I'm going to meet all of the conditions of my job description and do the best I can at all things at all times.  I'm going to have impeccable follow-through and make sure to do everything I say I'll do.


Competent Person's Coworker:  Really?  Sweet!  Here - do all of my work, too!


Competent Person's Supervisor:  Woo hoo!  Someone to pick up all of my slack!  I can start working 20-hour weeks!


[5 years later]


(Written on gravestone)
R.I.P. Competent Person
You Tried Your Best
Sucker


The thing is, folks, being overly organized and conscientious simply does not pay off.  At all.  Ever. It doesn't win you any bonus prizes, early retirement, super cool friends, amazing sex, or luxury vacations.  Essentially what being organized earns you is additional work, most often other people's.  Therefore, I'm giving it up.  I'm ready to show up late, double book, and overlook tasks I've previously committed to.  Oh, and I am also looking forward to passing the buck.  I haven't tried that out before, and it sounds pretty awesome.

Here I am practicing

Another devolutionary resolution I've been working on lately is doing what I want without bothering to explain myself.  This is a tough one, primarily because of how I was raised and the resultant internalized mechanisms of personal accountability, but also because I live on the West Coast, where people are wicked fucking sensitive.  When I was a kid, my dad used to tell me I was too sensitive.  However, compared to the inner workings of West Coast folks, I believe my childhood emotional state was forged from solid steel.


The difference between East and West Coasters became apparent to me when I had my first supervisory position (in California) and needed to intervene with an employee who wasn't meeting his job responsibilities.  My supervisor explained to me how to talk to him about his deficiencies in a way that wouldn't hurt his feelings, and for the first time I learned about a technique that I now refer to as "sandwich supervision."  

No, don't eat it.  Supervise it.

Sandwich supervision is when you take your critique of a person, which is the whole reason you've initiated a conversation with said person in the first place, and sandwich it snugly between two points of praise.  The hope is that the person being reprimanded, after receiving two confidence-boosting declarations, will be able to hear and learn from the strategically inserted point of criticism without becoming defensive and shutting down. 


Here is an example of sandwich supervision:  "David, I really appreciate your highly professional hygiene.  You smell great!  I also need to let you know that smoking crack with your clients...well, it's probably not a good idea.  You know, since you're their addiction intervention counselor and all.  So maybe try to work on that piece.  Oh, and I also wanted to let you know that you were very punctual last Tuesday!  Nice job!"


I am so done with that bullshit.  Sorry, folks, but from now on, I'm just telling it like it is.  No more sandwich supervision or sugarcoating anything.  In the future, all Davids are gonna get it, just like this:


"David, you smoke crack with the clients.  You are fucked.  I'm calling the cops.  Oh, and I have a gun."


So despite the fact that this devolutionary resolution does not mesh with West Coast functioning at all, I have still resolved to stop making excuses or providing explanations when I just don't feel like doing something, like attending a random party or going to get drinks with people I hardly know.  The fact is this:  I am antisocial.  Over the past few years, I've become comfortable with that, despite the fact that a friend once told me that I'm an asshole for feeling that way.  Well...fine.  I'm an asshole.  At least I'm honest about it.

I don't wanna play with you.  Get over it.

In the past, when attempting to avoid a social gathering, I would create elaborate explanations like, "Oh, I'm sorry, but I've had a really tough week at work, and my sister's having problems with her new house and needs me to call her tonight, and the pets are sick, and blah dee flur dee floo," but now when I don't want to do something, I just say, "No, thanks."  Whew!  It's so liberating!  I've also taken to leaving parties "French-style," which means leaving without saying goodbye to anyone.  It rules.


In conclusion, guys and gallies, I must admit that I am enjoying the prospect of devolving as a human being.  However, I suppose there is some concern that, by the age of 50, I will greet people at the door by punching them square in the face.  When that happens, I ask that you please remember the 35 years when I chose to rise above the fray, and consider posting my bail.  


Thanking you in advance...

Aw, fuck it.  Where's that blue dye??