The Sum of the Tasks
One of the many tasks that fall under the umbrella of my work responsibilities used to include sending files to K. K was a diminutive woman with cat photos and drawings in her cube. The files that went to K were labeled with her name over and over and over - her name becoming synonymous with her part of the process - the hole to kick the work to.
I got to know K a little bit - brought her some Kombucha and chatted. She liked lavender.
I remember K staring at me blankly when I openly wept at the work cafeteria's televisions blaring Hilary Clinton's concession speech. We didn't agree, but we still worked together well.
K lost her job to an outsource but stayed on longer than the rest - she had institutional knowledge that wasn't respected, but respected enough to buy her time. She shared about what she'd do afterwards. It was a superficial conversation about gardening and resting. I knew that I'd likely never see her again.Two weeks ago, I found out that K died. She was diagnosed with Cancer shortly after her job was over and the fighting could not overcome the disease - the case for many. This isn't about how unfair that is.
K's name is still all over our excel spreadsheets. Is still synonymous with the process. Is still reminiscent of the hole to kick the work to. It is disheartening to know that instead of the ashes to ashes - K is the byte to byte. The record to record, for me. I cannot seem to delete it. I cannot seem to delete her name.
It is easy to say that we are not the sum of our output - the sum of our product. But, only the closest to us really feel it...maybe. I cannot delete K, but I cannot sum her, either, other than this. It brings to mind that we touch people that cannot sum us often. That there are times when we will be reduced to a fleeting realization of the superficial sum.
I received many recognition awards last year. So many, that I was awarded the recognition of receiving the most recognition awards for a quarter (it's a thing). All stemmed around the work I was doing outside of the work I was doing. The tallies were summed - and the greatest was on display. The recognition being very appreciated and very deserved, but not expected.
People recognized what I could organize, what I could produce, what I could tell them - my output. I knew it, too. When I was alone (without the clawing of needy hands), and sometimes when I wasn't, I was confronted with the realities of the sum. It didn't feel like a lot. Or, I should say - it didn't feel like anything other than the pain of what I couldn't do. I carry that with me all of the time. When K died, I wondered if my name would be representative of a process - a hole to kick the work to. The fleeting reality of summation of a life reaching a life. If I would be remembered like K - an output that was valued by eventually forgotten and transformed into something else.
The arc of this story would lead to an empowering platitude. I'm not sure that it works here. Sometimes, there isn't a lesson to be learned, but a reality of living. K came and went through my life as a fleeting representation: the sum of her life in mine being her name repeated over and over in remembrance. Sometimes, it just is.
If this is truly a cathartic process and I cannot escape an empowering platitude, it is the peace of knowing that there are times that being a hole to kick the work to is okay and times when letting go of all that couldn't be done is okay. Knowing the power of your summation. And, knowing that there are times when all that is given and all that is recognized is enriching. Not everything is a sum, but if it is - make it the biggest without any irreversible subtraction. Even that doesn't feel like enough when I see her name again and again.
I got to know K a little bit - brought her some Kombucha and chatted. She liked lavender.
I remember K staring at me blankly when I openly wept at the work cafeteria's televisions blaring Hilary Clinton's concession speech. We didn't agree, but we still worked together well.
K lost her job to an outsource but stayed on longer than the rest - she had institutional knowledge that wasn't respected, but respected enough to buy her time. She shared about what she'd do afterwards. It was a superficial conversation about gardening and resting. I knew that I'd likely never see her again.Two weeks ago, I found out that K died. She was diagnosed with Cancer shortly after her job was over and the fighting could not overcome the disease - the case for many. This isn't about how unfair that is.
K's name is still all over our excel spreadsheets. Is still synonymous with the process. Is still reminiscent of the hole to kick the work to. It is disheartening to know that instead of the ashes to ashes - K is the byte to byte. The record to record, for me. I cannot seem to delete it. I cannot seem to delete her name.
Thank Heavens Ray Charles gave us a version of, "Eleanor Rigby." It's always been much more than the sum of its original .
It is easy to say that we are not the sum of our output - the sum of our product. But, only the closest to us really feel it...maybe. I cannot delete K, but I cannot sum her, either, other than this. It brings to mind that we touch people that cannot sum us often. That there are times when we will be reduced to a fleeting realization of the superficial sum.
I received many recognition awards last year. So many, that I was awarded the recognition of receiving the most recognition awards for a quarter (it's a thing). All stemmed around the work I was doing outside of the work I was doing. The tallies were summed - and the greatest was on display. The recognition being very appreciated and very deserved, but not expected.
People recognized what I could organize, what I could produce, what I could tell them - my output. I knew it, too. When I was alone (without the clawing of needy hands), and sometimes when I wasn't, I was confronted with the realities of the sum. It didn't feel like a lot. Or, I should say - it didn't feel like anything other than the pain of what I couldn't do. I carry that with me all of the time. When K died, I wondered if my name would be representative of a process - a hole to kick the work to. The fleeting reality of summation of a life reaching a life. If I would be remembered like K - an output that was valued by eventually forgotten and transformed into something else.
The arc of this story would lead to an empowering platitude. I'm not sure that it works here. Sometimes, there isn't a lesson to be learned, but a reality of living. K came and went through my life as a fleeting representation: the sum of her life in mine being her name repeated over and over in remembrance. Sometimes, it just is.
If this is truly a cathartic process and I cannot escape an empowering platitude, it is the peace of knowing that there are times that being a hole to kick the work to is okay and times when letting go of all that couldn't be done is okay. Knowing the power of your summation. And, knowing that there are times when all that is given and all that is recognized is enriching. Not everything is a sum, but if it is - make it the biggest without any irreversible subtraction. Even that doesn't feel like enough when I see her name again and again.
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