I’m now officially forty-six years old. Yes, I know I probably shouldn’t say that out loud, but to hell with it. I’ve earned everyone of those years, not to mention the wrinkles to prove it.
You’d think by now, somewhere in the middle of my usually self-inflicted chaotic life, I would have learned to keep my mouth shut. That I’d be able to breathe through those excruciating moments when someone spouts utter nonsense.
I have to be like the kid in The Emperor’s New Clothes and point out when folks are running around buck-naked. (God, please tell me you know The Emperor’s New Clothes. Please? Otherwise, I’ll really feel old.)
Now, let me be clear. I’m not talking about walking around and lashing heartless, thoughtless words to any and everyone. I’m talking about stating the obvious when it’s clear to everyone what’s going on (or should be clear to everyone), yet no one’s calling the situation what it is. (Hence the, “Yo emperor. Those clothes? Not there,” reference.)
The day job seems to be where I’m most, um, exposed. (Pun intended.) I’m kind of an entrepreneurial duck paddling around in a corporate pond, which makes for all kinds of, “Sorry, that makes no kind of sense to me at all. Can’t you just go direct from A to B instead of spending an extra gajillion dollars talking to X, Y, and Z along the way?”
Like I said, I’m pretty dog-gone sure I’m not the only one who notices when obvious situations pop their head up, but for some reason, I’m one of the few who chimes and says anything out loud. In fact, there have been some instances where people automatically look to me with an expression that says, “That’s your queue. Tell ’em what they need to hear.” Then, sure enough, I open up and let the words fly.
Why do I do that? After the words are out and I walk away, it just feels like I’m digging myself a corporate grave. Why am I not content to let things sit like everyone else?
Where do you fall when the pink elephant is stomping around in a room? Do you call it what it is and talk about it? Or do you smile politely and let the emperor strut on down the road in his transperant threads? I dearly wish (most of the time) I was the latter.