Genuine plastic
Since the dawn of time, groups have tried to assimilate with others in order to belong and feel a sense of worthiness. Even after millions of years, no one has it down to a science.
If they did, do you think Adam and Eve would’ve been banned from the Garden of Eden? Uh, no. They would’ve ignored that snake and eaten some other friggin’ piece of fruit.
This history lesson does have a point. It’s leading me to the politics of personalities.
Behind every smiley face and chipper laugh there lies ulterior behaviours. There isn’t one person who is sunshine and lollipops, rainbows and everything, all the time. Even they roll their eyes (at least in their minds) at an incredibly groan-inducing joke.
Their pretence is a psychological defence. Be nice and others will want you. Be a shithead, and your chances dwindle. Chances are they’d rather be genuine plastic, even if it makes them wince on the inside.
Sadly, these behaviours are no more obvious than in the workplace.
And, here is where my crux lies: As grating as my real personality is, I am terrible at being fake.
I’ve tried to be nice. People thought I had ulterior motives.
I’ve tried to smile. People thought it was a smirk and was making fun of them.
I’ve tried to play dumb to make others feel smarter. People thought I was just stupid.
I’ve tried to flexible in every which manner possible (and believe me, there have been positions I never thought were possible). People thought I was showing off by thinking I was more capable then they were – they were right on this one, though.
None of the above has worked.
So, now I am back to being me.
Strangely enough, people are more receptive.
They stop by my desk to talk to me. They smile more often. They laugh at my bitchy jokes and comebacks. They want me to join their “group” after work.
Interesting.
You would think if you gave them what they wanted, they’d lap it up some undernourished dog, living in the street. But, no.
And, all I had to do was be myself.
Nothing fake. Nothing plastic.
Genuine me.
If they did, do you think Adam and Eve would’ve been banned from the Garden of Eden? Uh, no. They would’ve ignored that snake and eaten some other friggin’ piece of fruit.
This history lesson does have a point. It’s leading me to the politics of personalities.
Behind every smiley face and chipper laugh there lies ulterior behaviours. There isn’t one person who is sunshine and lollipops, rainbows and everything, all the time. Even they roll their eyes (at least in their minds) at an incredibly groan-inducing joke.
Their pretence is a psychological defence. Be nice and others will want you. Be a shithead, and your chances dwindle. Chances are they’d rather be genuine plastic, even if it makes them wince on the inside.
Sadly, these behaviours are no more obvious than in the workplace.
And, here is where my crux lies: As grating as my real personality is, I am terrible at being fake.
I’ve tried to be nice. People thought I had ulterior motives.
I’ve tried to smile. People thought it was a smirk and was making fun of them.
I’ve tried to play dumb to make others feel smarter. People thought I was just stupid.
I’ve tried to flexible in every which manner possible (and believe me, there have been positions I never thought were possible). People thought I was showing off by thinking I was more capable then they were – they were right on this one, though.
None of the above has worked.
So, now I am back to being me.
Strangely enough, people are more receptive.
They stop by my desk to talk to me. They smile more often. They laugh at my bitchy jokes and comebacks. They want me to join their “group” after work.
Interesting.
You would think if you gave them what they wanted, they’d lap it up some undernourished dog, living in the street. But, no.
And, all I had to do was be myself.
Nothing fake. Nothing plastic.
Genuine me.
Authored by S at 12:00 am
4 Comments:
Yeah, the real you is always more interesting. I have to disagree with there always being an ulterior motive, perhaps that's projecting a bit.
The ulterior motive behind my cheerfulness is to, for lack of better words, feel cheerful. (a good feeling)
I like you for you.
You both say that now, but before long you start to think, "Gee, I wish he'd be more..."
I'd agree with Tornwordo, sometimes I'm nice and sweet just because it feels good to be that way. Of course the same holds true when I'm being bitchy.
Post a Comment
<< Home