My roommate and I are both in that place in life that old people tell us is 'oh so exciting': the point where we have to figure out what to do with our lives. Reality: this is terrifying.
Recently, we had a conversation about jobs postings. Almost every job that I look at 'requires' at least one year of experience in the field, and all of the jobs she's looking at 'require' at least five years experience in the field and a Masters degree. So much for being entry-level. While commiserating over the difficulties of finding jobs that we're 'qualified' for and the frustration at being rejected when we 'don't have enough experience' to take an entry-level position, I said that if I could just get into a room with these people, and sit down for an interview, I could prove to them that I am capable of doing that job. "Besides," I added, "I think every job is a little like working as a cashier. After a while, you know the ins and outs and it's all just another day at the office." At the time, I was thinking about my job in the store, which I was afraid to try at first. I was afraid of being off on my register; I didn't know the store; I didn't know the product; I had to answer phones; I had to deal with people I didn't know, and worse, be nice to them; the list went on and on and on. Fortunately, my need for money outweighed my irrational fear of being a miserable cashier, and I took the job, which is now boring me out of my mind. A few days later, my roommate looked at me and said, "You know, I think you're right."
Everyone knows that most of us are afraid of trying new things because we're afraid of failure. None of us like to look stupid, or feel like we look stupid (two very different things, I might add), and that's okay. That's the attitude that sparks us to try a little harder and do a little better each time around. However, I have another, shall we say, additional theory: we're afraid to try new things because we're afraid of being Dwight.
My roommate is an avid watcher of The Office, and, I have to admit, I'm hooked. Interestingly, I didn't think it was all that funny until I started paying more attention to how the workplace functions and how the people interact. My place of business definitely has a Michael, the boss who has sort-of control because he gets an awful lot of help; we have a Jim, the competent one who actually knows what's going on; we have a Pam, who works all day and goes home at night to hone her artistic talent, which very few people are privileged enough to know about; and, most often, we have several Dwights running around.
Dwight is the character that makes the TV show possible. In the real workplace, however, a character like that is downright obnoxious. Upon reflection, we all have a little bit of Dwight in us. Some of us more than others. And yes, I am willing to admit to my inner Dwight. In fact, my inner Dwight was probably what was inhibiting my ability to make life decisions for several months.
We all know what Dwight's like, and, quite frankly, it's ridiculous. I'm willing to bet that most of us would read my claim that we all have an inner Dwight and immediately say, "Not me!"
Yes, you.
Think about it: we all want a little attention from the big cheese; we all have the urge to toot our own horns in order to get the attention of the big cheese; on occasion, we all have the desire to put someone else down in order to make our accomplishments look better. We probably all have something roughly equivalent in quirk to Dwight's beet farm in our lives as well.
So here's my question: why? Why can we not be satisfied with a job well done? With doing a job to the best of our abilities? Why can't we admit that someone else is better at something than we are, or that perhaps it's not worth the trouble to make ourselves look good in comparison to others? I can think of two possible answers: 'Money' or 'We've all had this morality lesson.' Either is a valid answer, although one is more disheartening than the other. And that would be the latter.
If we've all had that lesson, why didn't we learn it? And why is it okay for us to ignore it if we have learned it? Perhaps most importantly, why can't we acknowledge that, every once in a while, we fail to live up to our own expectations of ourselves?
While I don't condone donning our volunteer sheriff uniforms in order to smoke out whoever left their cigarette butts in the parking lot, I think it might be good if we all took a step back and not only acknowledged our inner Dwight, but took a lesson from the real Dwight. When we acknowledge our Dwight moments, we should say to ourselves: "Do I regret this? No. I believe [admitting to the situation] has made me stronger." We now have the strength to not only admit to and learn from our mistakes, but make ourselves better people as a result of them as well.
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