KEEPING SCORE
by Val Leichtman
Taking a deep breath, I push open the frosted glass door to the office with my hip. I walk in diagonally, weighed down by my briefcase on my shoulder and my arms full of binders and reports. If I hurry, no one will notice. I put my burden down on my desk and take a moment to catch my breath, pushing the stray strands of hair that had fallen in my eyes back behind my ear and—
BUZZZZZ!
I jump at the jarring alarm and look up to see the numbers next to my name decrease by “5” on the Beauty column. The judges had seen the small red zit at my hairline and decreased my Beauty Score.
—
$27.90 in Office Supplies. Papers rustle as I flip the receipt over to the second pile on my desk after I enter the amount in the accounting software. $76.27 in Gas. Rustle. $378.14 at the fancy steakhouse. I wonder how many people ate that night? I would love a thick juicy porterhouse with peppercorn sauce and a side of—
BUZZZZZ!
I look up as the numbered tiles in the “Focus” column click down by “3.”
—
“We appreciate your patience. Your call will be answered in the order in which it was received.”
Staccato notes that sound like BB gun pellets being dropped into an empty tin can in a beat only the musician could identify begin to play.
I tap my pen on my keyboard to the beat. Okay, maybe 45 minutes of listening to their hold “music” gave me the magical ability to identify the “beat” too.
“Thank you for calling tech support, my name is—”
I excitedly pick up my phone and take it off speaker in one swift motion. “Yes, hi. I’m calling about my printer. It doesn’t seem to—” I cut myself off. The other end of the line is disturbingly quiet. “Hello? Hello?” I look at my phone. No active call. “Argh!” slips out under my breath.
I hear my Frustration Score dropping even before the buzzer goes off.
—
I don’t know about you, but the above scenario is fairly true for me. I’m often walking around with an entire panel of judges in my head, keeping score of my every move, thought, and action. And somehow, they always seem to be decreasing my score—I don’t know if it’s even possible to earn points. The game is most definitely rigged.
The funny thing is that I’m the one who rigged it and I’m the only one playing. Very few people around me notice all of, what I consider to be, my numerous “mistakes” or “problems.” No one will notice that small zit you think is huge, the millisecond mental break you took while on deadline, or that moment you got a little frustrated—unless you call attention to it.
The days when I get a little frustrated and am then able to let it go and joke around with my team afterwards, all my coworkers remember the next day are the laughs. However, the days where I allow my frustration to eat at me mentally and make me cranky with my team, my coworkers remember the bad mood the next day and keep their distance for awhile.
Neither you nor I are so important that everyone around us notices every single “misstep” we make. The only one noticing and keeping track is ourselves. Everyone has “hiccups”—bouts of frustration, bad moods, headaches—it’s how long we choose to allow those circumstances to affect us that matters.
I’m ready to put down my score card and just play the game. Want to join?
JUN