Selected for my first management position was an unforgettable life moment. The timing was perfect complimenting the celebration of my 40th birthday. Recognized for my tireless efforts and enduring work ethic became authenticated with my much longed for announcement. Embarking on a newly developed adventure was accelerating yet intimidating. Laboring among the ranks of the hourly had proven satisfying during my ten plus years of tenure.
Having faith I could master this new leadership role soon proved to be a noxious thought. My apprenticeship was gut-wrenching at best. As a first time supervisor I found myself standing directly in front of my new twenty-five assorted personalities. This particular group was unmanned for several weeks. They occupied traits of culpable misfit’s entertaining mischievous minds. Included in my team was the center wide most unproductive person, fighting roommates, an emotional mother with a new-born child and a proud mama whose teenage daughter had recently been discovered by Karl Lagerfeld. The mother literally ran the child’s career right from her desk. The daily hour-long expedition to and from work became my sanctuary in fixing the DYS in my dysfunctional group. Partaking in the ritual of self-help and motivational tapes moved me into producing a highly functional well-behaved team. No longer housing the bohemians of the office brought about a surreal accomplishment.
Commissioned with new priorities from the top my new director was loud and clear. Document, document, document! Written evaluations, reviews, side-by-sides confirmed banging out paper work was an absolute must. Realizing my performance assessments and compensation tied directly into my written capabilities troubled my spirit. Writing was my deficit. Scrawling clarifying sentences into well-constructed paragraphs didn’t co-exist between my brain and my fingers.
Often criticized for my lack of composition skills eventually rattled my inner self. Armed with a positive attitude I enlisted the aid of my local community college. Enrolling in many literary classes soon supported a worthwhile decision. Requesting to write our team paper in my last course scored an A for the entire group project. From that moment on my corporate future was carved. The return for my investment was well worth the risk.
So, my answer I propose to you now is no, writing with a broken pencil is not pointless. I challenge each of you struggling with your inner self to match those pencil splinter halves together, wrap some good ‘ole fashion duct tape around the cracks, sharpen the leaded point, make sure you have a good eraser and go to work on becoming the best you can be. You so deserve it.
Live Life to its Fullest and Follow Your Drems!
see you soon…