Friday, February 26, 2016

A return power fisting

I was near my old building to catch a bus home and, given I had the time, I walked over to where I used to stand each day when I went for a walk to where you can see parliament house in the distance, the flag on the hill. Then, like back then, I stood with fist aloft shouting into the wind that I was still alive and still toiling in spite of everything and everyone.

What can I say? I have a flair for the dramatic. 

It felt good to stand again in my secular victory spot and cry havok. To know once more I am toiling at high efficiency in spite of the administrative constraints on my time. 

I had a gap of ninety minutes between the end of work and the bus and unable to use a computer found a conference room, closed the door and stretched out on the carpet to read Hawaii by James A Michener—a fat tome I'd borrowed from a foxpod colleague from two years past that I found when sifting through old desk tat and put in my satchel for times like this.

As I lay there I remembered I'd been in that room well over a decade past for a conference when I was first in my longest served role—so long ago the conference participants walked away with a 3.5 inch floppy disc of conference information, the disk lovingly sticky-labeled by me and printed with the then organisation's title using its preferred corporate font. 

The fact I went that deep into the detail way back then backs my psych's assertion that I have always been awesome and adversity did not cause that.

Self-esteem set to win.

(adopts hero wind pose).

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