I went home early on Wednesday. I only was at work for 8 hours, and I decided that my feelings were hurt.

I’d asked for help and the answer was:
“You should manage your time better.”

HMPH

manage my time better! Well, I would manage my time better by going home after eight hours, that is what I decided. So I went home and was reading a book in bed.

The phone rang. I let it ring. I enjoyed my shrugging of responsibility at work earlier, and I thought I would ride the train a little further.

But Chris didn’t know that, and he answered the phone.

“It’s for you.”

I gave him a withering look and said, “Hello?”

“Hi, this is Jane, your neighbor down the hall. Umm..Are you planning on attending the board meeting this evening?”

“I don’t know. Was something happening?”

“Well, they are discussing the CC&Rs for the complex, and this is the time we are supposed to bring up any questions we have. We are supposed to vote on them next month.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that.”

“Yes, they didn’t make it very clear. I am bringing an attorney friend of mine, because I’m very concerned about some of the changes.”

Now, I only knew Jane from the last time she called about this same thing. I had no intention whatsoever of going to this meeting. I was busy nursing hurt feelings, remember?

But I had to be polite.

And I had to get off the phone.

She was still going: “…because they have made changes that affect our lives. They have given themselves a lot of power. And the last time I tried to talk about it, they just cut me off. I don’t think that’s right.”

“Wow. Well, I’ll have to read over the notes again and take a look.”

“Yes, because we need to have the ability to speak up.”

“Thank you for calling. I will take a look.”

It took about four more exchanges before I could hang up.

And while I was trying to find a way to hang up, I knew I had to say things that would give her the impression that I might come to this meeting.

Which I wasn’t going to do.

This sort of verbal smoke and mirrors is a part of my life now. Maybe it comes with working in elevator buildings. But I often have to give answers that are noncommital and reassuring.

Maybe this should bother me. Sincerity is a commodity, to be used sparingly. Is that how I ever envisioned my life?

How much is integrity tied to sincerity? Integrity is one of my cherished values. I will be the one to keep my word, I will be the one not to drop the ball.

But a big part of that is not picking up the ball in the first place.

I have this theory about communication. You cannot simply state the facts that need to be used. You have to have communications overhead. You have to say:

Hi, How are you?

…

That’s great. Hey, I wondered if you could go to your files and
check for this one thing.

…

Yeah, I was looking for the numbers from the New York buildout.

…

You have them? Oh, good. COuld you give them to me?

…

Yeah, just forward them on.

…

Thanks!

All of that could have been done with ONE sentence, 30 seconds. But humans don’t work like that. In fact, that was a rather succinct interchange, comparatively.

But the message had to be wrapped in soft exchanges, to be recieved properly. The content had overhead. Yes, we could say, “Forward me the numbers from the New York buildout” and leave. But the likelihood of even getting a response would be lowered, because the person could say, “How rude! If she really wants that information, she can come back and ask nicely.”

We have to feel cared for, we have to know that there is kindness and goodwill involved in the exchange of information.

That’s why, there is a kind of relationship that has to be built between people who interact.

But then, maybe you can take it too far.

This guy at work, who is really a mover and shaker, has an intensely good-natured attitude. He very seldom complains, and when something is upsetting, he just laughs.

And this makes him very approachable, etc.

But then, he also makes sure to tell people what they want to hear. Once, when we were working on a project, we got a price for a particular piece of it. I said, “hey, that’s not as expensive as I thought it would be.” He nodded and said, “yeah.”

We went over to the guy who could approve the purchase, and that guy said, “Wow! That’s expensive.”

My guy pulled a face and said, “I know.”

Which is it? I noticed he does this a lot. He appears to empathize with whoever he is speaking to.

Which makes me wonder if anything he says is true. And I feel a little bad wondering that because he’s a very nice guy, works very hard, etc.

But at the same time, how can you sincerely agree with two opposite opinions?

Where is the line in sincerity and integrity? Do we sincerely have to care what our fellow humans beings did over the weekend? Why do we ask?

There are so many times when I have to paste on a smile so that I can get my job done. But getting the job done is part of my self-respect, my sense of integrity.

So when I say what I don’t mean, like “that’s alright, it’s no big deal, I’ll take care of that” that lets me mean what I say when I say (to myself at the very least) “I am really damn good at what I do.”

Funny, that sincerity should have to be sacrificed like that.

As I was leaving work TOO late on friday, I met this guy in the elevator. I had never seen him before, as far as I knew. But he knew me.

He said, “I happened to go to Alaska after I heard your story.”

“You did? How did you like it? I’m glad I inspired you to go.”

“I saw a moose, but I thought it was much different to see a moose from the outside. Much less bloody.”

I had ready my story for Diversity Day at the workplace, last spring. I prepared a speech beforehand, about diversity:

“This is a day we are taking to celebrate diversity. Leaving all stereotypical prejudices aside, diversity is just about different kinds of experiences. Experiences are like the tools of life. And the more experieces we have, the bigger the toolbox to solve our problems.”

And I read my story about the moose.

I know that’s what this guy was remembering. My story about the moose.

When I look at these people at work, with their suits and their college degrees, the gap between their experiences and mine seem vast.

I wonder if any of them got beyond the description of the butcher knives to understand that the story was about food.

That food is not always a given.

But this guy in the elevator told me about his vacation to Alaska, and his sightseeing experience about seeing a live moose.

I am amazed that he remembered the story. But I don’t think he got it.

Geez, there are so many movies around here. They are stacking up. Movie pollution.

Okay, maybe it’s not that bad. But here in Hollywood, everyone is into movies. And I’m not. I like books.

Yes, I’m feeling a bit resentful. There is no one to talk to about books anymore. Just my beloved book club.

Okay, so a friend at work gave me a book to read. It was good timing, because I was running low. I had finished Devil in the White City (I’ll talk about that later), and I hadn’t started House of Mirth (almost done, I’ll try to review it for you).

So my friend gave me this book Ask the Dust by John Fante. As soon as I opened it, I smelled Beatnik.

And I hated the main character.

When I read On the Road, I also hated Sal Paradise for his selfishness. But at least he was going stuff, moving around.

Arturo Bandini was doing nothing.

I hated him violently for most of the book, but then the book turned out to be worthwhile in the end.

I hadn’t read more of the beat genre that Kerouac, really. I kind of like what they stood for, even if I don’t like the aimless and self-centered way they went about it.

But I had a flash of insight. Arturo Bandini talked in poetic terms about his thoughts and experiences. Even if they were kind of annoying thoughts and experiences, he did talk about them in a pretty way.

And when he is coming from the 50s, that was a big deal.

The 50s was the time when John Wayne was the ideal of manhood. At least for a lot of people. John Wayne annoys the freckles off my face. I hate that he is such lump. He never talks about what he thinks or feels. He never says why he does stuff. He just shows up and rides horses, shoots things and gets the girl.

Chris has foisted different Westerns on me, including many Wayne films. The last one I watched, I only watched on the condition that he never make me watch another John Wayne movie again.

It was “She wore a yellow ribbon”. Every once in a while, I will bellow out “CALVARY!” in memory of the film. It was memorably bad.

But anyway.

IF men were walking around behaving like John Wayne in the movies…

THEN any expression of the internal thought life and emotions of men would be welcome.

ALSO the beats’ way of talking about their feelings was kind of pretty.

SO even though they were self-centered and shallow individuals in many ways, it must have seemed like a shaft of light down a dark hole to get a little bit of masculine expression.

When “Howdy Pilgrim” was the alternative…