One of the things I struggle with as I age out of existence is this sense of who I am. I used to have a pretty good grasp on who I thought I was. The emphasis there is who I "thought" I was. It was a self image based on how I thought people perceived me and my work...my art...my personality. I've raged for years on the loss of friends for no apparent reason. And I've tried to rationalize that it is what happens. People don't stay connected.
Underlying it all was this sense that I was likable. I could go to work and joke with people thinking that they liked me and appreciated my teasing and personae. I took comfort in this sense that I was funny and likable and people appreciated my humor.
Of course, deep down I knew that the ad agencies and consultants that I managed just acted like they liked me and thought I was funny because that is what you do with clients. At times I tried to tell myself that I was different. I was one of them. They could relate to me. I was the good client. But I'd change contracts and all of the people I thought liked me no longer gave me the time of day. The new agency or consultant would step up and stroke my ego and I'd try to let it go.
At work I rose to a management level that gave me some power, but I tried to think it didn't matter. I was down to earth and people liked me. They weren't just smiling and laughing at my jokes because I was a director, they appreciated my wit and charm.
Then the pandemic hit and I tried to be that comforting strong leader who bolstered people's morale. I wrote folksy e-mails each Friday trying to keep people's spirits up. I posted funny images and jokes. And I met with everyone monthly and thought I was being appreciated and looked at as a good person.
But as we began to come out of the pandemic and some people returned to work and some stayed remote it became harder to keep up the cadence of "we're in this together." And more and more I began to sense that I wasn't that great of a leader or well liked. We'd have these opportunities at meetings to give kudos to each other and I swear I never got a single kudo. I began to sense that people were laughing a little too much at my jokes and rolling their eyes.
And there was that dreadful staff meeting where I was the facilitator and shared what I thought was a "fun" retrospect of my career with the sense that people would gain a new appreciation of me and the things I had accomplished. Instead it was an embarrassing and awkward failure that I regret deeply.
But still, I thought some people liked me and appreciated my humor. Then today I saw a photo posted on Instagram of one of my employees and two other people who have worked for me in the past. They were having lunch in the town I live in north of Seattle. And the caption read, "Having lunch with two of my favorite people from (my company) in (my home town)." They were people who laughed at my jokes and I thought liked me. But they didn't like me enough to want to invite me to lunch in the same town I live.
So it drove home this reality that you shouldn't fool yourself into believing your own personae. I have always dreaded being this character who people laughed at behind their back and I fear I've become him, or have always been him.
Even as I crank out my t-shirt designs at a record pace, I catch myself not wanting to say anything to anyone about them because I've come to the conclusion that they really won't care. No one will think they are as clever as I do or understand my sense of humor. So even when I sell a shirt or sticker, I resist the urge to say anything to anyone because I hate that distracted look on people's face when they are trying to be polite but truly don't give a shit.
Still, I come here and post this crap knowing that it could potentially be read by millions of people. But I know it isn't. It's as private here as it would be written in a journal and locked away in a safe. No one will really read it or care.
But still I was prolific today with my random designs.
I didn't even need AI to crank out that one. But Gemini Cricket did step up for this one.
And who knows. I may pop back into my unread blog tomorrow and delete yet another whiny post expressing self pity and replace it with my usual sarcasm.
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