into my life and it’s official:
I am not a team player. Lucky for me I have blonde hair and am easily amused, because I somehow give off the impression that I certainly am “part of the team,” even when I’m seething inside as one person or another argues with which network to store a new working folder to and another person runs down the aisle, arms waving frantically, shouting “Free bagels! Free bagels in the conference room! Hurry!” which is almost but not quite as exciting as Jeans and Donuts Friday.
See, here’s the thing. I planned on starting the New Year and the New Job off on the Right Foot. I felt like last year I was somewhat, let’s say, the tiniest bit judgmental. When I went on trips I came back sort of snarky, and in my day-to-day life I found myself baffled by the actions and motivations of my coworkers. I blogged about this and wrote about this and called my mom and my girlfriends and told Sam about all of this all the while thinking I am a horrible, awful person who deserves to rot in hell because she went to and instead of falling properly in love with her tour guide, like all the other women did, instead assumed it was his desire for a big tip that encouraged him to buy you flowers off the street, as opposed to your beauty. Who does that?
Well, not the Courtney of 2007. Courtney of 2007 would SUSPEND HER DISBELIEF and be open to people and places, accepting all with the yoga-like calm she reads about it Yoga Journal.
It lasted nearly a month. And in my defense, on a day where 50 civilians were killed in , what did the morning news lead with? Barbaro, the Kentucky Derby horse that had to be put down. Now, I am all about treating animals ethically, and I appreciate the instinct and ability of animals doing what they are born to do, but the complete earnestness with which Barbaro’s death was covered was appalling. People who ‘knew” Barbaro talked about his spirit, his ability to triumph over the odds, his connection with those around him…HE WAS A HORSE. There are young men and women from both the U.S. and Iraq dying daily for a war waged on half-truths and full-lies, men and women who will never again have the opportunity to fall in love or see a movie or sleep in late on a Saturday morning or eat a cheesesteak, and our country is sharing a national obsession over a horse? You know, even that I could forgive, even then I could somehow think we all are just misdirecting our horror onto poor Barbaro because we aren’t equipped to examine our own lives, but then the next story is analysis of American Idol contestants. Now, even though I’ve never watched this show, I think I can say with some expertise that it really isn’t all that important to, say, the possibility of war with Iran. I just know I’m right about this.
So, with all due respect, I’m stepping back up on my high horse, and freely admitting that while I’ll work until my freelance career takes off, I will never, ever get excited about free food in the conference room or the latest antics conducted by Paris Hilton or Lindsay Lohan, and I won’t bemoan the loss of Applebee’s low-fat lemon whatever cheesecake.
Harumph. I grew distracted from my whole team-player discussion. So, here, also, is this: I HATE group work and I hate working with anybody else on a project. I have never liked and it’s safe to say, like brussel sprouts, cream soups and bitter mustard greens, I never will like it. Lord, I remember being in elementary school and my heart dropping into my stomach at the mere mention of group work. First of all, it meant I had to trust someone else to contribute to the project, which as we all know never, ever works out. Secondly, I much preferred (and still do prefer) working on my own instead of engaging in endless discussion, which by the time high school rolled around was always about everything but the project at hand, time we could have spent doing the work, and third, well, I don’t like breaking things down and delegating – I find it confusing. The only good group work with doing is performing a play or an instrument. There was much less group work in college – just enough to irritate me once a semester or so but now here I am, nearly 30, part of a creative team and while I actually enjoy the brainstorming sessions I hate the messy breaking-up of work afterwards, the reliance on other coworkers to do their part, and the fact I have to adhere to other working styles. I’m sure it’s good for my nature to do it, but still.
So, I am not a team player, and I can finally admit it. As my mom used to say, there may be no I in team but there’s an m and an e and that spells me, and it’s close enough.