Thursday, September 15, 2016

I got a very lovely message in my inbox this morning from an acquaintance apologizing that her daughter would not be accepting a job I had connected her with.

I was surprised, because beyond pointing her in the right direction, I had done relatively little to help, and I certainly am not one to hold a grudge, at least not over something like that, after doing HR for years and year in the child care field, I know that people come and go, and go and come back again and that is the way of our work.

She thanked me for helping.

I like helping.

My husband calls me The Concierge 

I live to connect services and people and gifts and food and jobs and need.

I like to think of myself more as a FIXER.

I see myself as Tom from the Godfather, or Winston Wolf in Pulp Fiction.

Sometimes though, I realize I am a terrible know it all.

I try hard to be a good listener, but I also like results. 

One friend kvetches endlessly about first world problems, relentless tail chasing, and I long to say
in my best Three stooges voice, but instead I offer an endless supply of good ideas.

I come by my know it all, smarty pantness honestly.

Both of my parents are Fixers.


Brainiac types

All my grandparents were self sufficient and strong.

They could all do stuff, make stuff, get through things.

I was brought up to be both helpful and aloof.

To set myself apart from the ones that are falling apart.

Fall apart in private.

Keep that shit in cheque.

Waiting in the wings with a big net to catch, repair and release all the broken and lost life has to offer.

When I expressed my fatigue at being the boss, right before taking my current humble job, my friend Don said "But isn't bossing people around what you are really good at?"

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