I caught up for a long night of drinking on Friday with Cheeseboy and JV.
One of the first things discussed with JV is what was happening with the role I’d applied for at his work. They’d sent me an email midweek saying they’d be in touch by the end of the week, but I’d heard nothing. If you remember, I was one of the final two contenders. JV told me he’d spoken to the hiring manager during the week and been told they were going with the other candidate. They liked me plenty, but they thought I might get bored in the role – another case of being perceived as overqualified for the role.
There’s a possibility that another, more senior role, may become vacant which they’ll consider me for.
None of this is official and anything could happen still, but I’ll take this at face value.
Earlier in the day, I’d pulled the pin on a long-running project we couldn’t get over the line. The project had been on the books for 6 months, but progress had been marred by the vendor’s incompetence, issues with Facebook, and now, a looming black-out period. Underpinning all this was a general lack of faith or trust that the vendor could deliver and support a viable application.
I’ve had qualms for months but pressed on knowing that this was a priority for the business. It’s been an uncomfortable position. There was never a strong buy-in by those who would use the application, who were often unhelpful, and shared a lack of confidence in the vendor. For the last couple of months, I’ve had to push through that, but I had to make a call on Friday.
It’s not easy to terminate a project you’ve invested so much time and effort into, even if it’s unpopular. Often it’s the wisest thing you can do, however, because to deploy something you don’t believe in is asking for trouble.
I had to call up the big manager and explain the situation. I presented the facts to him, and he agreed we couldn’t go on. He sounded very disappointed, and I felt full of regret. I hung up the phone thinking it was the right call but wondering if there was anything I could have done to save it. It felt like a failure – this is the first time I’ve ever done this.
While I was on the phone with him, he asked how I was and reported that they were proceeding with what he called ‘option two’. He’d spoken to HR and the upshot – I believe – is that my role will be re-classified, and extra dollars will come my way as a result. That will be welcome, though I doubt it’ll be the full whack I’m hoping for come the next financial year.
Throughout all of this, I began to wonder if I had the wrong end of things. I don’t know why or how, but despite my disappointment at the failed project, or because of it, perhaps, I felt energised. I wanted to do more. Above all, I wanted to extend my brain cells. One of the things I miss is the opportunity to be creative. It’s something that comes easily to me and has been very beneficial in my career for many years.
These days, my role seems more to manage than to create things. I think it’s that lack of creative opportunity that has left me feeling a bit useless. Creativity is really my strong point – the ability to imagine how things connect and to put together the framework by which a little is leveraged into a lot. I felt as if the time was right for me to pitch those ideas again.
Work has little idea of this aspect of me because they’ve barely bothered to look. I can die far more than what they ask of me, and perhaps that’s the answer – to do more rather than less.
This impulse coincided with a return of my writing. I’ve barely been able to write for months. I’ve felt uninspired and unmotivated. Generally, I’ve been too flat to make an effort, and when I did, it was a grind. Then, in a hurry, it came back to me Thursday night as I lay in bed. I’d turned the light off to sleep, but as I lay there, fragments of the story I’m working on came to mind, where I embellished it lying the dark.
This is not the first time this has happened, and I know now that the trick is to put it on paper while you have it, for by morning, it will be gone. Three times then, I switched on the lamp beside my bed and scribbled down the words in my head. I felt illuminated and ultimately grateful.
By now, I know this is how it works for me. I go through writing seasons. It’s hard, and then it becomes easy, without any real understanding of why. I’m barren of ideas, even belief, and then I become fertile again without warning. So it is. So everything is.