Not necessarily Cabaret style, but Mitch and I have been dancing around each other for quite some time. Inevitably, opposing forces are meant to collide.
I approach to discuss a very important professional matter, one that, if handled appropriately, has the potential to increase efficiencies, create continuities and solidify our relevance in this world of commerce (or our relevance in this scripted reality show about commerce).
The one thing I can say about Mitch is that I trust he is not in on this scheme. He is not an actor but a pawn in their game just like me. I know this for a certainty because, if you recall, this coworker of mine used to be inside my head. I cast him out into the world, for better or worse, and now must deal with him and his antics in the physical realm. Of course, this revelation is a difficult pill to swallow. This arch rival, this antagonist, this obstacle of a human being is meant to be my fiercest competitor. As it turns out he may also be my closest ally.
As stated, I approach Mitch to discuss what the writers of this program would likely describe as a very important, professional matter. Frederick Fucking Chopin fills his airspace, possibly a little too much volume for the work environment. I recognize the melody immediately as Prelude No. 15, one of my favorites as it turns out. This piece of music is wrought with tension, foreboding at its core, yet floods the listener with a calming sense of freedom. Chopin knew a little something about balance.
Perhaps Mitch and I can come to terms after all. Perhaps we can use the competitive nature of our relationship to reach new heights in solidarity. We share a lot, the two of us. Similar tastes in music for starters, B positive blood types, and the same size feet. Hell, we even buy the same types of shoes. I once likened our opposing personalities to oil and water but we are in the same boat, fighting the same current.
We shall continue to compete and put on a good show. We may not always see eye to eye and eventually one of us will have to take a fall. Until then we shall reap the benefits of our game of tug of war. Each of us will master our hiding skills and become more diligent seekers.
I do not have to agree with him...I merely have to respect that we need each other to survive. So, an alliance it is. Albeit a fragile one.
I know full well that Mitch will not jazz his hands, so I do not ask, nor will I request him to embrace the Royal Jazz Hands. I will quietly deploy once safe within the confines of my office. We share similar tastes and to a certain extent the same desires. Jazz Hands we will never have in common which is why Mitch is no longer my voice of reason and the reason we will never become B.F.F.s.
Mitch turns the music off and we discuss operational procedures, protocols, theories of professionalism, points and counterpoints of fundamentals, agree to disagree, decide to circle back later on and at the end of the day we will ultimately conclude that it is what it is...I'm so glad we had this chat.
As I turn to walk away, Chopin commences. The song now is Piano Sonata No. 2. Also known as Chopin's Funeral March.
Today's Jazz Hands unnecessarily used an expletive while quoting the character, Doc Holliday, from a great scene in the mediocre 1993 film Tombstone without you realizing it. Or maybe you did.
Day one-hundred and sixty-four complete.
I approach to discuss a very important professional matter, one that, if handled appropriately, has the potential to increase efficiencies, create continuities and solidify our relevance in this world of commerce (or our relevance in this scripted reality show about commerce).
The one thing I can say about Mitch is that I trust he is not in on this scheme. He is not an actor but a pawn in their game just like me. I know this for a certainty because, if you recall, this coworker of mine used to be inside my head. I cast him out into the world, for better or worse, and now must deal with him and his antics in the physical realm. Of course, this revelation is a difficult pill to swallow. This arch rival, this antagonist, this obstacle of a human being is meant to be my fiercest competitor. As it turns out he may also be my closest ally.
As stated, I approach Mitch to discuss what the writers of this program would likely describe as a very important, professional matter. Frederick Fucking Chopin fills his airspace, possibly a little too much volume for the work environment. I recognize the melody immediately as Prelude No. 15, one of my favorites as it turns out. This piece of music is wrought with tension, foreboding at its core, yet floods the listener with a calming sense of freedom. Chopin knew a little something about balance.
Perhaps Mitch and I can come to terms after all. Perhaps we can use the competitive nature of our relationship to reach new heights in solidarity. We share a lot, the two of us. Similar tastes in music for starters, B positive blood types, and the same size feet. Hell, we even buy the same types of shoes. I once likened our opposing personalities to oil and water but we are in the same boat, fighting the same current.
We shall continue to compete and put on a good show. We may not always see eye to eye and eventually one of us will have to take a fall. Until then we shall reap the benefits of our game of tug of war. Each of us will master our hiding skills and become more diligent seekers.
I do not have to agree with him...I merely have to respect that we need each other to survive. So, an alliance it is. Albeit a fragile one.
I know full well that Mitch will not jazz his hands, so I do not ask, nor will I request him to embrace the Royal Jazz Hands. I will quietly deploy once safe within the confines of my office. We share similar tastes and to a certain extent the same desires. Jazz Hands we will never have in common which is why Mitch is no longer my voice of reason and the reason we will never become B.F.F.s.
Mitch turns the music off and we discuss operational procedures, protocols, theories of professionalism, points and counterpoints of fundamentals, agree to disagree, decide to circle back later on and at the end of the day we will ultimately conclude that it is what it is...I'm so glad we had this chat.
As I turn to walk away, Chopin commences. The song now is Piano Sonata No. 2. Also known as Chopin's Funeral March.
Today's Jazz Hands unnecessarily used an expletive while quoting the character, Doc Holliday, from a great scene in the mediocre 1993 film Tombstone without you realizing it. Or maybe you did.
Day one-hundred and sixty-four complete.
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