Monday, June 16, 2014

Time. Order. Responsibility.

I suppose one of the worst things about being me is my sense of time, order and responsibility. Let's start with time.

In the 40+ years I've been paid--between summer jobs making change in a game room on the boardwalk at Playland to my myriad jobs in advertising, I can count on one hand the number of times I've come in late.

I just can't do it.

Even this morning when I was dealing with some sundry interpersonal mishigoss and the swirl that so often accompanies my spouse, I was terribly nervous about being late. I have a lot to do and I was worried that I would get scowls as I hustled in at 9:06.

Well, 9:06 came and went, and now, 20 minutes later and no one I need is even in yet.

Order is of the same order, solipsistically speaking.

I tend to knock items off my to do list the way the Germans rolled over eastern Europe. I get stuff to do and I do it.

Dilly-dallying is not a part of my modus operandi.

Finally, there's responsibility.

I like to say that I'd run through hell in a gasoline suit to get my work done, to do what's right for the job or assignment.

You can psychoanalyze me if you'd like and criticize me.

I know I should lighten up and take things a little easier on myself.

That's all well and good.

But it's not the way I am.

There are a lot of people in the business--it seems like a full one-third of my Facebook friends--who are in Cannes right now. Mainly it seems like they're there to post pictures saying they're there.

These guys and gals are the advertising winners--a club of which I am no longer a member.

For whatever reason, they are perceived as cool and cutting edged.

There's nothing cool about getting in on time, doing your work, and going home having done a job well.

There's no festival celebrating that.

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