A Change Will Do You Good

Me and change don’t really like each other. I’ve learned to tolerate him, but a prefix is still required when I address him as we are not out of the woods on formalities. Change invades my personal space. He’s always all up in my face trying to make me do things against type. I think he even talked about my mother behind my back a few times. I’ve tried telling him to back the eff up, but change is about as stubborn as my two-year-old and, if you’d ever met my two-year-old, you’d know the depth of that statement.

The recent flurry of political activity, with emphasis on what’s being stressed from the Democratic camp, is change. “No way, no how, no McCain” and, my personal favorite, “Eight is enough.” You’ve heard it no matter what your party preference. No one wants to relive the hell endured these past eight years. No one. And during this time, change and I have come to amicable terms. I am beginning to understand him and he is helping me realize that, while he may be pushy, he means well. That the pushing is only necessary because I, too, am just as stubborn as he in not giving in to my usual way of doing things. I may be drowning in a sea of bull, but it is me who is refusing his life preserver.

I have worked for the same firm for four and a half years. This is a long time for me as I’ve never been anywhere more than a year. I’m not exactly what you’d call flighty, but I require a challenge and loads of mental stimulation. If these things are absent from the equation, I am absent from the job. This company of mine has faced a booming influx of new hires recently. New hires that bring their different skills, different look, different backgrounds, different upbringings and different personalities. If you’ve ever had a Myers-Briggs-Jung personality profile done, as I have, you’ll know what I mean when I say I’m an ISTJ. The “J” in that ISTJ equals “judging”. Amongst these new hires, I have – in my mind – already judged them and given them a three month probationary period. In this time, they have to prove to me why they’re not idiots. I have no fair basis for assuming such a thing about them yet it is in the natural order of things, and the way my brain functions, which leads me down this dark path of cynicism. Most never get to three months because they’re just that nice. Or just that smart. Others are treating their three months like a bar tab.

I am judgy. The legal system loves me. Not in the picked up for prostitution running with the wrong crowd knocked over an old lady-kind of way. More like the elected Supreme Court judge-kind of way. Yet unlike a real judge, I don’t wait to hear all the evidence before making my ruling. I quietly observe the situation and take note of everything that’s not said. Body language. Eye movements. Hand gestures. The overall scent of someone. Sounds like an animal? Yeah, I know. Freaks me out, too.

When Barack Obama made the cover of Time Magazine, I instantly didn’t like him. I believe the words “antichrist” came from my lips. Before you gasp, realize I was not the only one with this thinking. I had never heard the man speak. Never knew what his voice sounded like. Never wanted to see his face. If the magazine was found lying around the house, face-up, I’d quickly flip it over. He freaked me out. In a way, he still does. I’ve never seen such a rallying around one person in my life. When he speaks, the world listens. Closely. Too closely.

[Image courtesy of Getty Images.]

Over time, I’ve come to appreciate his message, what he stands for, and his proclaimed intent for this country. Yet I am still apprehensive. Change may be good but, if forced, it can backfire. Against many a Democrat in my circle – and I am surrounded, let me tell you – I will watch the Republican National Convention just as I watched the Democratic National Convention. I do myself a disservice as an affective judge by not seeing both sides of the coin. And if I really want to make the attempt to get on a first name basis with change, I should do so fairly. Even if that means my grandmother will want to hang me on a clothesline by my nose hairs. So be it.

[Image courtesy of Barack Obama | Flickr.]

Though my judging and unwillingness to change has caused me nothing but grief in the past, I am willing to meet change halfway for the sake of my sanity. I don’t know the outcome of my decision to go this route, but blind pessimism has been my BFF and the play-cousin to change long enough. I may not be ready to jump into the deep end, but I’ll dip my toe in the fount.