The manager sat there unmoved and without emotion. This was this manager’s way, for she was, in her mind, perfect in every respect. After all, this manager had a solution for every problem. She knew exactly what strategies the company should implement, how to resolve process issues, how employees should be deployed, and those employees the company should terminate. Unlike others, this manager had an uncanny power to understand each and every employee, and was the ultimate judge of character and abilities, and best of all; she had a pigeon-hole for everyone. Yes, there was a spot for everyone and once you were placed in your special spot you were there forever. Oh, this manager was relentless in her pursuit of perfection; everything was mapped-out and in its proper place.
And there the perfect manager sat, as another manager sat across from her. The perfect manager sat motionless, indifferent to or unaffected by joy, grief, pleasure, or pain. She sat totally impassive, unwilling to accept constructive criticism from the other manager, unwilling to listen to the other manager, and unwilling to accept any effort of reconciliation. There was no need for the other manager to reach-out or attempt to reconcile their differences - none whatsoever; for the perfect manager knew all about the manager who sat across from her. She knew exactly what was in that manager’s heart and mind and she didn't care for it. She had already placed this manager in his little pigeon-hole. The die had already been cast; the game was forever played-out.
Of course, the perfect manager didn’t have to be human because she was warm and secure in her small little world. No harm could come to her. She was comforted by the knowledge she was right, always right, and the other manager was wrong. Of course, she had a plan, and this was it: She would let the other manager reach-out, apologize, and take responsibility for things. The perfect manager would allow this to happen and this would make her feel victorious. She would outlast the other manager, allow him to show his weakness, and this would reaffirm her superiority. She would do this with few words and no sign of emotion. Her coldness of expression and coldness of heart would be her guide. "In time . . . in time . . . it will happen," she thought.
. . . and it did.
The other manager reached-out and took partial responsibility for the situation. The other manager had taken the high-road, but the perfect manager refused to meet the other manager half-way. "There," she thought, "it's over." There was no smile on the perfect manager's face, no indication of emotion at all. Yet, deep inside the perfect manager was overjoyed in her perfection. In her mind, she overlooked all of her pigeon-holes, located the other manager in his special spot, and looked down upon him with a smile. She saw herself extending her hand and gently stroking the little manager’s head. "It’s okay," she said softly. "It’s okay. I understand."
As I sat watching the scene unfold before me, I was not angered by the perfect manager’s reaction. Instead, I became profoundly saddened by her behavior. For someone who was so perfect she was blind to her own faults and frailties. Here was person so warm and secure in a world she created, a world that protected her from reality and from herself. Indeed, the perfect manager had constructed the perfect world.
Then, it came to me. I remembered someone like the perfect manager. He was a young man and it was many years ago. And, he too had built a similar world. But in time, he matured and learned how to deal with people. He discovered that the perfect world he had built was not all that perfect, and that in time reality would consume him. I remember this young man because I am that person.
When the meeting was over I decided to listen to some music. I do not recall the name of the song that was playing or artist, but the first line of lyrics was this . . . I’ve learned to clip my wings, and soften my ways.
