Malanimal
16-01-2008, 08:39
It was quite a complex plan I had put forward; believe me. I have been doing this job for some time, had risen to the level of floor manager, and thought it was about time to propose my own project to the boss. The planning is very important. In my spare time, and this is my spare time at home when I could have been enjoying some music or carpentry. In my spare time I planned for this project.
But there is only so much one can do outside of the working environment, without the tools of the trade. Every time I walked in the door of the office, in the weeks leading up to the project start date, every time I hoped that I could begin preparations in earnest. But not one day was set free for me. My inbox would be a list of tasks that needed to be done the night before. The boss delegated work and my subordinates grudgingly took it off my hands or asked incessant questions regarding things that were either the centre of my expertise or subjects so unrelated to my knowledge that I answered in guesses and hunches and shrugs and occasionally a short “I don’t know” that would momentarily stop the onrushing waves.
You see; I believe that whilst one cannot know everything, we should be able to give an answer to every question that can be asked. The latter field of knowledge is smaller than the former and I think of it as a challenge central to our work. To an outsider, an apprentice, or an ignorant employee, it would seem strange that the importance of an obscure matter is magnified by a billionfold. Yet that is the business in which we operate, believe me, and as much as this torrent of enquires buries my mind in a billion question marks, it is a necessary enterprise.
So with this constant deluge of demands there was no time in which to properly address all of the myriad points, for my project, that needed tackling. When one point would fall under a proper description, moments later it seemed to collide with another to produce a progeny of yet more complications and conundrums. I not so much burned the midnight oil as let it billow flame out across my mind until nothing else was left, yet, believe me, still more questions came. I met with my manager to argue that the allocated time of completion, from start to finish, of one working week, was not sufficient. All that happened was my manager’s brow furrowing into cumulonimbi, heavy and laden with threat, pouring scorn on the idea that my project should deserve a higher priority than his own numerous plans.
And so it came to pass that my project, my labour of love, was upon me. The moment had come about which I had dreamed, believe me, dreamed of a construction of such excellence, of such radiant success, of such perfection that it would have never been equalled. But the preparation had been rushed and the other work did not cease. The delegation, the enquiries, the important minutiae for which others never seemed to have time and yet were vital, believe me, to the tasks they were undertaking. In my pursuit of mitigating the mediocrity of others I sacrificed my own dream.
At first I thought all had gone well. After a week of feverish creation I went in on Saturday to finish off some final tasks and was confident all had was good. It wasn’t until the incident in the garden... “The devil is in the details”, that had been my mantra to others but now it had bitten me.
My manager was furious. I asked for a meeting with him to explain the error and asked if it could be rectified. He was not merciful, storming round the office thundering about how I had been like a son to him, that I carried the spirit of the enterprise. I started on excuses, went through apologies, and was onto weeping self-pity by the end. It was all pretty much downhill from there. I had sought perfection whilst others did far less, yet most people would not notice the difference between my creation and theirs. They embraced mediocrity and the manager never seemed to notice, happy with their half-finished worlds churned out one after another. My shining jewel is now just one amongst the crowd.
The creatures in my creation, men, or humans as many are calling themselves now, they just squabble and fight, mostly. Once I went down personally to try and sort things out but just got crucified, believe me. Sometimes I wonder if it is getting better, but I’ve stopped trying to improve matters. Funnily enough a lot of them do pray, quite a few of them to me, but mostly to the manager. I think I shall move on now. I have always liked working with wood and quite fancy building boats. It is a pastime upon which I can concentrate all of my attention and aim for perfection. My mediocre creation will have to get along without me.
(Interview with Jesus, Senior Creation Manager, God Inc, 12:30pm 3rd March)
But there is only so much one can do outside of the working environment, without the tools of the trade. Every time I walked in the door of the office, in the weeks leading up to the project start date, every time I hoped that I could begin preparations in earnest. But not one day was set free for me. My inbox would be a list of tasks that needed to be done the night before. The boss delegated work and my subordinates grudgingly took it off my hands or asked incessant questions regarding things that were either the centre of my expertise or subjects so unrelated to my knowledge that I answered in guesses and hunches and shrugs and occasionally a short “I don’t know” that would momentarily stop the onrushing waves.
You see; I believe that whilst one cannot know everything, we should be able to give an answer to every question that can be asked. The latter field of knowledge is smaller than the former and I think of it as a challenge central to our work. To an outsider, an apprentice, or an ignorant employee, it would seem strange that the importance of an obscure matter is magnified by a billionfold. Yet that is the business in which we operate, believe me, and as much as this torrent of enquires buries my mind in a billion question marks, it is a necessary enterprise.
So with this constant deluge of demands there was no time in which to properly address all of the myriad points, for my project, that needed tackling. When one point would fall under a proper description, moments later it seemed to collide with another to produce a progeny of yet more complications and conundrums. I not so much burned the midnight oil as let it billow flame out across my mind until nothing else was left, yet, believe me, still more questions came. I met with my manager to argue that the allocated time of completion, from start to finish, of one working week, was not sufficient. All that happened was my manager’s brow furrowing into cumulonimbi, heavy and laden with threat, pouring scorn on the idea that my project should deserve a higher priority than his own numerous plans.
And so it came to pass that my project, my labour of love, was upon me. The moment had come about which I had dreamed, believe me, dreamed of a construction of such excellence, of such radiant success, of such perfection that it would have never been equalled. But the preparation had been rushed and the other work did not cease. The delegation, the enquiries, the important minutiae for which others never seemed to have time and yet were vital, believe me, to the tasks they were undertaking. In my pursuit of mitigating the mediocrity of others I sacrificed my own dream.
At first I thought all had gone well. After a week of feverish creation I went in on Saturday to finish off some final tasks and was confident all had was good. It wasn’t until the incident in the garden... “The devil is in the details”, that had been my mantra to others but now it had bitten me.
My manager was furious. I asked for a meeting with him to explain the error and asked if it could be rectified. He was not merciful, storming round the office thundering about how I had been like a son to him, that I carried the spirit of the enterprise. I started on excuses, went through apologies, and was onto weeping self-pity by the end. It was all pretty much downhill from there. I had sought perfection whilst others did far less, yet most people would not notice the difference between my creation and theirs. They embraced mediocrity and the manager never seemed to notice, happy with their half-finished worlds churned out one after another. My shining jewel is now just one amongst the crowd.
The creatures in my creation, men, or humans as many are calling themselves now, they just squabble and fight, mostly. Once I went down personally to try and sort things out but just got crucified, believe me. Sometimes I wonder if it is getting better, but I’ve stopped trying to improve matters. Funnily enough a lot of them do pray, quite a few of them to me, but mostly to the manager. I think I shall move on now. I have always liked working with wood and quite fancy building boats. It is a pastime upon which I can concentrate all of my attention and aim for perfection. My mediocre creation will have to get along without me.
(Interview with Jesus, Senior Creation Manager, God Inc, 12:30pm 3rd March)