There was a period last week—a full 36 hours—when I knew I was going to quit my job, but no one I worked with did.
I was not a fan.
I’m sure that some out there enjoy the subterfuge, the game you have to play. But I don’t much like saying things I don’t mean. Telling someone that, sure, that’s a project I’ll get around to one of these days. Maybe a sociopath would enjoy the misdirection involved, but I sure didn’t.
It reminded me of another work episode from a few months ago, when I built up a narrative for myself that wasn’t true.
I found myself, surprisingly, on the other side of it: I had the knowledge to profoundly shift my colleagues’ narratives. And the power was not in any way enjoyable.
Taylor Coe 