Troy Evans

I’ve been thinking lately, that as I get older, I don’t actually get smarter.

Although this has come as somewhat of a surprise, it hasn’t in fact, come as a disappointment. Smarter, is not always a good thing. Sometimes all it means, is that I start to think too much, and forget to feel enough.

So, although it might not be the cleverest thing to do, I’m going to write a little bit about feelings. Mostly, other peoples.

I’ve had the good luck to land myself countless rotten jobs in my life. Places populated by many a breed of horrible creature, where what I believed, and what I felt, weren’t just second on the list of priorities, they didn’t even make the top ten. They didn’t in fact even make the list, but ended up somewhere shoved in a dirty corner by the wastepaper bin and sometimes, down the toilet.

Most of you don’t know much of me. I don’t swim often in the waters of the community although I am very much a part of it. I am here though I’m fairly ordinary. I come to work, I’m as jolly as it’s possible to be, I go home.

Lately, I spend a lot of my time looking at the people I work with, who give of their time, of their creative energies, and give a damn if a person is feeling crappy. Even if that person is one amongst hundreds of thousands. And that should mean something.

From me, that means they will always have my respect, my tolerance, and benefit of any doubt. Not because they always do what I say, or because we always agree, but because every path taken, every exchange of ideas, every frustration encountered, is always brought to bear with the highest degree of consideration, and the largest spoonful of common courtesy for all concerned. Believe me, that’s rarer than it should be.

If the road to Hell is paved with good intentions then the road to Bullying must be at least paved with misguided defensiveness. And there has been much waving of flaming torches lately.The only way to avoid that is to see each other in the best light possible. Always. The steadier you stand, the more perspective you have. Rushing headlong into a brawl is more exciting, but not necessarily more productive…

It’s the easiest thing in the world to call yourself tolerant when nothing is there to spit in your eye, or peaceable when no one is waving burning injustice at you. But then I believe principles are there to be tried and tested, not to be stabbed in someone’s face to prove a point.

The more stabbing there is, the less community, until all we are is just another angry mob.

The office, over the past week or so, has been a bit quieter, a bit low.
Sometimes it seems, there are three sides to every story. The two opposing forces, and the one in the middle, trying their best to see all points of view and getting most of the beating as part of the bargain.
To me, that doesn’t seem fair, but then I’ve seen every person I work with take a punch that they would never allow another to take, over and over. They would never tell you that. So I am.

Something to think about, I guess.

I don’t consider myself to be much of an adult, but something that’s stuck, is to practice my counting before I shout blue bloody murder. That’s just me, though…
1….2…3…4…5…