Hippie Corp was doing my head in last week. We have been set a challenge at our next 'annual general work-play group festival' that includes all the offices. Our main task this year is to sing something - anything, the choice is ours - in the form of a choir.
My company loves setting challenges. I usually view them as a form of torture. I have been in a play, I have punted down the Oxford river, I have performed in gladiator competitions, I have done circus tricks, golf, beach volleyball, written poems, you name it, I have done it. Every year I roll my eyes and recite, "OMG. Torture. Torture. Really?" when the annual email pops through.
Once the moment comes though, I must admit, I thoroughly enjoy them. This year, I chose to view the challenge as a form of spiritual growth. I don't think our CEO ever realizes what he puts his employees through, but he assured me one year: "Lucy, trust in the process. Keep the faith." He has been right, so far.
I love singing. I have a terrible voice. This is rather ironic as I have a melodious speaking voice, apart from when I get hyped up: then I sound a bit squeaky and shrill (not nice!)
My first attempt at karaoke, a few months ago, will be forever embedded in my mind when my friends looked at me in utter shock from across the bar as I trilled through "Barbie Girl" like a strangled cat. I was truthfully: Very Very Bad. Their expressions were exactly like the picture below.
But I cheerfully reasoned with myself: you gotta start somewhere! And, quite frankly, I was starting to get pissed off with my pathetically weak voice. For some reason, I woke up one day and decided that absolutely everyone CAN sing. If we can talk, then we can all sing. I figured that I must have an emotional block that simply prevents me from singing, it's all in my head, and deep down, I really can sing beautifully.
However, removing this emotional block, I soon found out is rather tricky: first you have to learn how to sing, especially when you've avoided singing for decades. The path was trial, error and the dispension of earplugs while I went about this new business of overcoming emotional singing blocks.
In the interim, friends have gleefully taken the piss. One threatened to shoot himself next time I sang. Another even embellished a story during coffee with the girls, to get in on the "Let's Make Fun of Lucy" action, regaling to the crowd that when a chap walked in while I was mid-tune(less) he gave me a filthy look and she helpfully gave him a filthy look back. From her angle, it might have been a filthy look. From my angle, the guy came up and flirted with me while I was belting out 'Honey Honey'. Whether it was to help me out with singing ... because I was so awful ... well, let's focus on the positive: he was flirting! (That's always a good sign).
Yet another friend remarked that there was no hope to me ever improving but nothing could top my passion, it was A+ for passion and enthusiasm, just not the singing.
Another reminded me of the death looks I got one night from a woman sitting in front of me one evening, but I am quite sure that was because she was dying to sing with the MC who had been ignoring her all night and instead was trying his best to make me sound better by singing with me.
(Erm...he didn't make me sound better. I simply managed to make him sound vile, as he was trying to harmonize with my strangled-cat-non-dulcet tones). Mind you, that was probably the reason why the woman was giving me evil looks. The MC did sound better with her ... so perhaps my friend was right in this case ...
Said MC, who sings like an angel, casually explained to a group of people one evening that the point of karaoke was to get up there and do something that no one else is doing and with a slip of the tongue to emphasize his point said: "Even Lucy gets up and sings." Pfff. Cheers for that.
Yes. So we have established that I have wonderfully supportive friends. I love them. I really, really do. But I also really, really want to throw a drink in their faces and storm off Alexis Carrington style when they all harp on about my dreadful singing as I don't see any of them rocking up to the front with a mic. The unfortunate thing is because I've agreed with them that I'm terrible, they all get on the bandwagon and thoroughly enjoy the ribbing. I can't blame them now. I just have to take it on the chin and plod on.
But despite it all, in a remarkably short space of time, I have improved. I went from 'diabolical' to 'eh' and now I am in the never been before territory of 'OK'. This is awesome!
Progress of any sort can be likened to climbing over the rainbow to find the proverbial pot of gold (i.e., your dream). It's not easy, there's the uphill climb first (and to be good at anything you need to apply at least 10,000 hours on it, so they say. Personally I don't believe that: youtube, mate, youtube). Then there's the 'camel hump' (the pinnacle curve of the rainbow) where you're 'kinda ok' and things get better, then the slide downhill, which is the smooth sailing bit when everything comes together.
Interestingly though, since I've quit the dastardly diet coke, my voice has improved. Hmmm ... perhaps because the dreadful stuff isn't poking holes in my intestines? There is that dictum about 'singing with your stomach'. This might be more than an emotional block, you know. My leaky gut needs to seal the cracks first and then magnificence will radiate through my golden pipes. (Allow me to merrily daydream for a wee moment please ... OK, I'm done).
In any case, back to Hippie Corp. There has been a flurry of emails surrounding the choice of songs. We have our own group email address, aptly named "Nicosia-Choir". The Choir Master is a controlling sort of fellow, albeit with a terrific sense of humour. He was quite enamored by one suggestion of Mozart's Requiem as "Kyri Eleison" morphing into Britney's "Hit Me Baby One More Time,' signing off his email with "Mozart and Britney together? I always knew those two would have hit it off."
As is the case, whenever any decisions are made in a group setting, on email, people will revert to being babies. It's the inevitable pattern of throwing up roadblocks, not making a commitment, arguing over insignificant details and stymying the process because no one wants to make a choice, especially when most have been railroaded into taking part. We've all been guilty of it and I inadvertently started off this second round of voting by remarking that perhaps the first choice of song wasn't the best. It was unintentional and I truly wish I hadn't.
The Choir Master, as I said, has a need to control and the roadblocks rev up his need to explain every detail, every process and this then sends him into what I call 'panicked-control-mode', where he can't see the wood for the trees and completely forgets about the big picture. To give him credit, though, he is doing something that no one else volunteered to do by taking on the role of Choir Master.
We have since been lectured on the 10 different voting methods for single-method voting. We have been informed that we are going with the Schultze method. As one colleague put it: "Who gives a crap about the Schultze, Condorcet, Heimlich or Freimlich method? As if we are voting for the US Presidential elections ffs."
Feelings have been hurt via the written word zooming electronically back and forth between everyone. There's been sarcasm. There's been temper tantrums. There's been tears. When I casually joked around to make another colleague feel better, I got sworn at and a bathroom door slammed in my face. Cor! Over a bloody song? Initially that didn't bother me, but then everything combined bothered me, once the flurry of emails reached a crescendo.
My boiling point was reached when the colleague across from me, who took pleasure in being the self-named 'Email Troll', sent an email with a mathematical hypothesis that I couldn't make head or tail of, which annoyed me even further since I am, admittedly, an intellectual snob. I erupted in a John-Cleese-like explosion and sent a scathing reply in the form of: "I have sat, read and listened to a bunch of self-righteous individuals pontificating on every ruddy, little, insignificant point ... all over a bloody song."
Gosh. I obviously need some sex. I repeat: this was over song choices. But to be fair, this was a discussion that had gone on for weeks, complete with algorithms, detailed voting methods and we were still no closer to making a decision, so it would've tried anyone's patience.
I admonished that there was zero team spirit and zero enthusiasm (except for criticism and showing off each other's remarkable intellect in proving themselves right). "No wonder we never win these challenges. We have no clue how to loosen up and have fun." I sternly reminded them that we were lucky to travel and should be more bloody grateful for these opportunities.
It was pretty amusing once the email came through. My colleagues sat in utter shock, apart from laughter from one, and a groan from the Email Troll, who realized I had just made life very difficult for him and his trolling desires. I honestly thought I was going to be in for a massive bollocking from the higher-ups but instead I got some significant thank yous.
This got me thinking: we do put up with an awful lot. The problem is with work stuff, everyone has to maintain a certain level of respectful decorum. There is the fear of being fired if one is too honest. This creates an imbalance, it restricts your natural personality and it creates a fear culture because you are never being true to yourself. Companies are strange places. Same with friends, though: it's natural to take some stuff in your stride even if it bothers you deep down. There is the fear of being ridiculed further for complaining or causing a drama. I am the sort that does anything for a quiet life and will let a lot of things slide.
The problem is when you keep shutting up about it, then you either descend into passive-aggressiveness or you explode. Thankfully my work explosion did no harm, and the good it did was to set the boundaries of what is acceptable behavior and what isn't. Since then, there have been no problems.
Passive-aggressiveness rears its head a lot in the workplace. People become very afraid to speak up when something is wrong. I noticed this years ago when I was given a completely unreasonable deadline last minute. I was advised to complain to HR but I thought better of it and spoke to the individuals directly. I figured if the same situation happened with one of my friends, I would speak to them about it. I wouldn't get a third party to step in. In fact, that approach worked wonderfully and it had a pleasant effect for the rest of the team: unreasonable deadlines dwindled, after that.
While companies have the power to put pressure on, set challenges and generally inflict some form of torture on us, on a daily basis: there is a limit. The limit is closer than you think. It's like dealing with playground bullies. They get scared easily when people stand up to them. Half the fun is in the jostling people along and pinpointing their weak spots. Turn it around, respect yourself, be strong and set realistic boundaries of what is acceptable and what isn't and the bullies soon slink away in shame. It's just how it works.
I am not advising anyone to act like an ogre at the first whiff of a red flag encroaching on their personal boundaries. But there are a few reasons why most people I talk to are unhappy with their jobs: people not always doing what they really want to do and most likely, they are putting up with far more than they should.
This is our own doing and if we move past our fears a little bit and start speaking up, it's surprising how much you will get listened to. If, in the event you don't, and people object to any sort of boundary setting, then these are the very people with whom you need to practice setting boundaries with. It really is that simple.
In love and light,
Lucy xxx
My company loves setting challenges. I usually view them as a form of torture. I have been in a play, I have punted down the Oxford river, I have performed in gladiator competitions, I have done circus tricks, golf, beach volleyball, written poems, you name it, I have done it. Every year I roll my eyes and recite, "OMG. Torture. Torture. Really?" when the annual email pops through.
Once the moment comes though, I must admit, I thoroughly enjoy them. This year, I chose to view the challenge as a form of spiritual growth. I don't think our CEO ever realizes what he puts his employees through, but he assured me one year: "Lucy, trust in the process. Keep the faith." He has been right, so far.
I love singing. I have a terrible voice. This is rather ironic as I have a melodious speaking voice, apart from when I get hyped up: then I sound a bit squeaky and shrill (not nice!)
My first attempt at karaoke, a few months ago, will be forever embedded in my mind when my friends looked at me in utter shock from across the bar as I trilled through "Barbie Girl" like a strangled cat. I was truthfully: Very Very Bad. Their expressions were exactly like the picture below.
But I cheerfully reasoned with myself: you gotta start somewhere! And, quite frankly, I was starting to get pissed off with my pathetically weak voice. For some reason, I woke up one day and decided that absolutely everyone CAN sing. If we can talk, then we can all sing. I figured that I must have an emotional block that simply prevents me from singing, it's all in my head, and deep down, I really can sing beautifully.
However, removing this emotional block, I soon found out is rather tricky: first you have to learn how to sing, especially when you've avoided singing for decades. The path was trial, error and the dispension of earplugs while I went about this new business of overcoming emotional singing blocks.
In the interim, friends have gleefully taken the piss. One threatened to shoot himself next time I sang. Another even embellished a story during coffee with the girls, to get in on the "Let's Make Fun of Lucy" action, regaling to the crowd that when a chap walked in while I was mid-tune(less) he gave me a filthy look and she helpfully gave him a filthy look back. From her angle, it might have been a filthy look. From my angle, the guy came up and flirted with me while I was belting out 'Honey Honey'. Whether it was to help me out with singing ... because I was so awful ... well, let's focus on the positive: he was flirting! (That's always a good sign).
Yet another friend remarked that there was no hope to me ever improving but nothing could top my passion, it was A+ for passion and enthusiasm, just not the singing.
Another reminded me of the death looks I got one night from a woman sitting in front of me one evening, but I am quite sure that was because she was dying to sing with the MC who had been ignoring her all night and instead was trying his best to make me sound better by singing with me.
(Erm...he didn't make me sound better. I simply managed to make him sound vile, as he was trying to harmonize with my strangled-cat-non-dulcet tones). Mind you, that was probably the reason why the woman was giving me evil looks. The MC did sound better with her ... so perhaps my friend was right in this case ...
Said MC, who sings like an angel, casually explained to a group of people one evening that the point of karaoke was to get up there and do something that no one else is doing and with a slip of the tongue to emphasize his point said: "Even Lucy gets up and sings." Pfff. Cheers for that.
Yes. So we have established that I have wonderfully supportive friends. I love them. I really, really do. But I also really, really want to throw a drink in their faces and storm off Alexis Carrington style when they all harp on about my dreadful singing as I don't see any of them rocking up to the front with a mic. The unfortunate thing is because I've agreed with them that I'm terrible, they all get on the bandwagon and thoroughly enjoy the ribbing. I can't blame them now. I just have to take it on the chin and plod on.
But despite it all, in a remarkably short space of time, I have improved. I went from 'diabolical' to 'eh' and now I am in the never been before territory of 'OK'. This is awesome!
Progress of any sort can be likened to climbing over the rainbow to find the proverbial pot of gold (i.e., your dream). It's not easy, there's the uphill climb first (and to be good at anything you need to apply at least 10,000 hours on it, so they say. Personally I don't believe that: youtube, mate, youtube). Then there's the 'camel hump' (the pinnacle curve of the rainbow) where you're 'kinda ok' and things get better, then the slide downhill, which is the smooth sailing bit when everything comes together.
Interestingly though, since I've quit the dastardly diet coke, my voice has improved. Hmmm ... perhaps because the dreadful stuff isn't poking holes in my intestines? There is that dictum about 'singing with your stomach'. This might be more than an emotional block, you know. My leaky gut needs to seal the cracks first and then magnificence will radiate through my golden pipes. (Allow me to merrily daydream for a wee moment please ... OK, I'm done).
In any case, back to Hippie Corp. There has been a flurry of emails surrounding the choice of songs. We have our own group email address, aptly named "Nicosia-Choir". The Choir Master is a controlling sort of fellow, albeit with a terrific sense of humour. He was quite enamored by one suggestion of Mozart's Requiem as "Kyri Eleison" morphing into Britney's "Hit Me Baby One More Time,' signing off his email with "Mozart and Britney together? I always knew those two would have hit it off."
As is the case, whenever any decisions are made in a group setting, on email, people will revert to being babies. It's the inevitable pattern of throwing up roadblocks, not making a commitment, arguing over insignificant details and stymying the process because no one wants to make a choice, especially when most have been railroaded into taking part. We've all been guilty of it and I inadvertently started off this second round of voting by remarking that perhaps the first choice of song wasn't the best. It was unintentional and I truly wish I hadn't.
The Choir Master, as I said, has a need to control and the roadblocks rev up his need to explain every detail, every process and this then sends him into what I call 'panicked-control-mode', where he can't see the wood for the trees and completely forgets about the big picture. To give him credit, though, he is doing something that no one else volunteered to do by taking on the role of Choir Master.
We have since been lectured on the 10 different voting methods for single-method voting. We have been informed that we are going with the Schultze method. As one colleague put it: "Who gives a crap about the Schultze, Condorcet, Heimlich or Freimlich method? As if we are voting for the US Presidential elections ffs."
Feelings have been hurt via the written word zooming electronically back and forth between everyone. There's been sarcasm. There's been temper tantrums. There's been tears. When I casually joked around to make another colleague feel better, I got sworn at and a bathroom door slammed in my face. Cor! Over a bloody song? Initially that didn't bother me, but then everything combined bothered me, once the flurry of emails reached a crescendo.
My boiling point was reached when the colleague across from me, who took pleasure in being the self-named 'Email Troll', sent an email with a mathematical hypothesis that I couldn't make head or tail of, which annoyed me even further since I am, admittedly, an intellectual snob. I erupted in a John-Cleese-like explosion and sent a scathing reply in the form of: "I have sat, read and listened to a bunch of self-righteous individuals pontificating on every ruddy, little, insignificant point ... all over a bloody song."
Gosh. I obviously need some sex. I repeat: this was over song choices. But to be fair, this was a discussion that had gone on for weeks, complete with algorithms, detailed voting methods and we were still no closer to making a decision, so it would've tried anyone's patience.
I admonished that there was zero team spirit and zero enthusiasm (except for criticism and showing off each other's remarkable intellect in proving themselves right). "No wonder we never win these challenges. We have no clue how to loosen up and have fun." I sternly reminded them that we were lucky to travel and should be more bloody grateful for these opportunities.
It was pretty amusing once the email came through. My colleagues sat in utter shock, apart from laughter from one, and a groan from the Email Troll, who realized I had just made life very difficult for him and his trolling desires. I honestly thought I was going to be in for a massive bollocking from the higher-ups but instead I got some significant thank yous.
This got me thinking: we do put up with an awful lot. The problem is with work stuff, everyone has to maintain a certain level of respectful decorum. There is the fear of being fired if one is too honest. This creates an imbalance, it restricts your natural personality and it creates a fear culture because you are never being true to yourself. Companies are strange places. Same with friends, though: it's natural to take some stuff in your stride even if it bothers you deep down. There is the fear of being ridiculed further for complaining or causing a drama. I am the sort that does anything for a quiet life and will let a lot of things slide.
The problem is when you keep shutting up about it, then you either descend into passive-aggressiveness or you explode. Thankfully my work explosion did no harm, and the good it did was to set the boundaries of what is acceptable behavior and what isn't. Since then, there have been no problems.
Passive-aggressiveness rears its head a lot in the workplace. People become very afraid to speak up when something is wrong. I noticed this years ago when I was given a completely unreasonable deadline last minute. I was advised to complain to HR but I thought better of it and spoke to the individuals directly. I figured if the same situation happened with one of my friends, I would speak to them about it. I wouldn't get a third party to step in. In fact, that approach worked wonderfully and it had a pleasant effect for the rest of the team: unreasonable deadlines dwindled, after that.
While companies have the power to put pressure on, set challenges and generally inflict some form of torture on us, on a daily basis: there is a limit. The limit is closer than you think. It's like dealing with playground bullies. They get scared easily when people stand up to them. Half the fun is in the jostling people along and pinpointing their weak spots. Turn it around, respect yourself, be strong and set realistic boundaries of what is acceptable and what isn't and the bullies soon slink away in shame. It's just how it works.
I am not advising anyone to act like an ogre at the first whiff of a red flag encroaching on their personal boundaries. But there are a few reasons why most people I talk to are unhappy with their jobs: people not always doing what they really want to do and most likely, they are putting up with far more than they should.
This is our own doing and if we move past our fears a little bit and start speaking up, it's surprising how much you will get listened to. If, in the event you don't, and people object to any sort of boundary setting, then these are the very people with whom you need to practice setting boundaries with. It really is that simple.
Oh and don't let anyone dull your sparkle, ever! Even if your singing sucks ;-)
In love and light,
Lucy xxx
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