PTSD, Conspiracy theories and Tales by Sunrise

Good morning all.

Woke up about a dozen times in the middle of the night panting in terror, convinced I could see silhouettes of fierce Warriors advancing on my bed. I could swear they had weapons of ivory, and were clothed in Elephant hide.
So, I did some investigating on Google, and found this.

Capture.PNGExplains a lot, doesn’t it?
Still on that horrific display on Wednesday. Y’know how I put forward two theories? Well, there’s a third. It’s not even particularly novel or intuitive, and you don’t have to be Sherlock Holmes to have deduced it before now. Matter of fact, I’m very sure we have all thought this within the last couple of weeks.
Put yourself in this scenario: you have a job to do, one which looks eminently attractive from the outside. One which anyone would die to have. You get in there, but then you realise you didn’t quite have the full picture going in. It quickly dawns on you: you’ve bitten off more than you can chew, the job is bigger than you. 
As the pressure to deliver cranks up, your decision-making process becomes a little cloudier, your self-assurance begins to wear thin. You start to lose your temper a lot more frequently, and your response to honest criticism becomes snappy.

Of course your results slide. And it’s not even all your fault: those with whom you have to work aren’t exactly bringing their A-game to the table (to be honest, you weren’t even allowed free rein to get all the tools you requested), but of course you get all the flak. You’re constantly reminded of your predecessor in the role, whose shoes are pretty big, all things considered. What makes it worse is that even when you manage to outdo him, it is barely acknowledged. You feel, not just underappreciated, but unloved: nothing you do will ever be good enough.

As the time passes, you begin to resent the job. You resent those with whom you have to work, you resent the organisation for not understanding that you cannot make caviar out of cassava. Then comes paranoia. What if they don’t really want you there, but don’t want to be seen as admitting a mistake? What if they’ve simply decided to make the job untenable for you, in the hopes that you fail so abysmally that public outcry makes keeping you impossible?

Who can you trust now? Come to think of it, is there anyone you can aver is looking after your interests solely, on whose assurances you can lean? Every smile looks a bit more crooked, every comment carries a double meaning, every burst of laughter has your name on it. It’s a lonely place to be, old friend.

So, you decide. They can’t hurt you if you stop fighting. It’s the love that kills you, after all. If I show them i don’t care anymore, I’ll at least ruin their fun. Let’s see them laugh then.
You introduce a bit of sloppiness to the workplace. Let standards slip, leave out the best and include the least effective and committed in the most onerous tasks. You pop your collar, fly your shirt, stop sweating the little details. Let it all slide. They can’t hurt you anymore. They can’t hurt you anymore.

Oh wow. That’s a lot of words already. Forgive me. Once i get a hold of a good story, I find it hard to let go. 

Have a splendid day, y’all.
‘EnyimbaEnyi

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