I spent a lot of time in my cube, not attuned to work, but to daydreaming. And now that I’m not working, I spend a lot of time outdoors or in front of my computer, not doing anything but daydreaming.
We don’t place a very high premium on daydreaming. Our society looks down upon those who daydream, because daydreamers don’t do anything productive, at least as surface perception would have it.
And if anyone has sat down with a his or her boss for any length of time to discuss performance – that dreaded word that comes up during appraisal time and is on par with the Inquisition or Terminal Diagnosis – perception is everything. Perception, more than productivity, makes or breaks career success. Perception determines market worth, not necessarily day-to-day or week-to-week or month-to-month metrics.
Metrics get lost in the massive exchange of data and information, the plodding Powerpoints and swing curves and histograms and Excel tables and charts and .pdf manuals. Metrics look pretty at quarterly financial meetings and weekly management ‘gong shows’. Sometimes, those charts and graphs blend colors with astounding lucidity and a glittering appeal to those who show an addict’s glazed-over fascination with sensory input.
But real lasting pretty is the young fresh-faced office gal with the sleek legs who turns heads wherever she goes.
And powerful is pretty, as the ‘powersuit’ guy dashes between meetings and presents his all-so-powerful case to his all-so-important superiors, and everyone in their dingy little cubes peek over the top to see him dashing back and forth, power handshaking, power talking in a loud commanding voice, power strutting up and down the aisles, power walking to the on-site gym to power workout before going to his power lunch.
Pretty is allure and power, and perception is immaculate. Wherever there is the perception of the pretty and the powerful, there is success.
But for you and I, plain and unpretty, the perception has been sullied. We sit in our cubes or stand on the floor of a factory or drive a truck or a cab, unknown and unperceived; and therefore, we remain addicts to our misery.
How do we reinvent ourselves?
Jake desJardins