Work in the past few days have left me with little time for blogging – not so much the office job but the horrible realization that the last IPPT (Individual Physical Proficiency Test) I took back in the Army resulted in a FAIL grade.
I suppose it didn’t seem like a big deal back then, as I was almost out of the Army and physical proficiency didn’t really associate itself with my civilian identity.
Unfortunately, despite being in the manpower business myself and having committed to memory dozens of the administrative procedures and requirements for promotions, I had somehow overlooked the fact that I was not eligible for promotion unless my previous IPPT showed me to be of at least a moderate level of fitness (as well as several other requirements, all of which I meet).
So the past few days have been in the pursuit of physical fitness, something I thought I had left behind me and could be in pursuit of mere physical pleasure. Results so far have been disappointing – that other black bar on my shoulder is in danger of never being attained.
Of actual work I have been delegated to a programming project. Now I am beholden to travel from administrative unit to administrative unit, spreading the gospel of my embarrassingly pitiful project and checking the status of (xxx) management within the units. It is a job that I rather like, as it makes me seem rather important in the eyes of those damned clerks (who will burn in hell for laughing at my hair!) and gives me some modicum of authority over their superiors in the dispensing of my knowledge, but it has once again opened my eyes to the severe administrative deficiencies of my organization. Sometimes I wonder at the peopled who are hired by the central HR. Are they so blind and idealistic about the rote training they dole out that they can imagine a half-blind, meek old lady whose voice is barely able to reach across a five-metre room will be able to control a roomful of young men burning with the frustration of boredom and entrapment?
I mean, even a young man like myself, full of the energy of life and the blush of activity, feels rather lost amongst these apes (who will burn in hell for laughing at my hair!) when trying to explain how to use software to make their lives easier.
Which is why I have respect for my own chief clerk for her command, if not her ability to actually work. At some point in life I suppose managerial skills start to count for a lot more than technical ones, though I loathe the idea and tend to stay away from any kind of leadership position. You see, I hate to depend on anyone else to do any kind of work – my particular brand of mistrust – which makes me a rather poor leader, since I almost never delegate and I have trouble thinking of things to do for idle hands (unlike YOU, eh?). I’m still wondering if there’s any way I can squirm out of society’s expectations of my management destiny, though I see precious little chance. Seet’s constant exhortations about how I should transform myself into a leader always chafe – it’s almost as if leadership, like monetary success, were the only things to be aspired for in life.
In an effort to have less to do, I avoid the higher orders like the plague. As far as I can tell, by not presenting myself to any personage of higher rank than myself (an actual possibility where I work) I can get away with doing very little. So far the strategy has worked, except that it just means I end up doing work of my own device. This week I go home early most days, but I have the sinking feeling that the old flame of industriousness burns brighter each day they feed my ego with the “Oh! Alex! So useful are you!” and soon I’ll end up like those bastard chinese overseas who do OT every day, toiling away at my tiny contribution to my organization late into the night.
But wait – I am mistaken – that level of industriousness is impossible for now. I’ve found something so much more meaningful in life than work.
Eight more days. Oh, goodness.