I have spent most of my career thinking about Betty and attempting to avoid being her. Picture a graying, but energetic 5 foot 1 inch woman who wears elastic-back jeans, white tennis shoes and a flowered cotton shirt that smells of her latest cigarette. Picture a talker. Her raspy voice echoes in my ears as I think back to my many conversations with her. When she talked, she usually complained and when she complained she inspired the feeling of doom. There was an unwritten rule known universally by everyone in the office. Avoid Betty.
One of the first bright spots in my career was when I was handpicked to help create a process for data entry in our new customized billing system. I was working for Sprint in their customized billing department. Many of Sprint’s high-end business customers had special contracts that were not compatible with the generic billing system. The new system was a welcome relief to the manual work that the department had been doing for years. I was thrilled to be part of the new process and was flattered to be chosen to help with the transition. I was told that I would be working with one other person who was also handpicked for the job. Imagine how shocked I was when I learned that the other person was Betty.
I quickly learned that Betty had a wealth of knowledge. She knew the business and knew how to get things done. After a month or two, it became obvious that we were a good pair. I was quiet but ambitious and naive but determined. Betty was cautious but realistic and tired but watchful. She was half-empty and I was half full. I worked side by side with Betty for 2 years and rejoiced with her when she finally retired. She was finally free from her 8 to 5 hell. And I was free from Betty’s 98 pounds of negative weight.
Betty left a lasting impression on me. Although I had grown to love and respect her, she was my inspiration of what not to be. We spend 1/3 of our life at work. Why make it a miserable experience? I promised myself that if I ever found myself consumed with pain over my 8 to 5 life, I would remember Betty and lighten-up.
Then last week after a closed-door yelling match with my boss and a few sleepless nights thinking about this hell that I call a job, I finally realized the truth. I couldn’t avoid being Betty, because I have been Betty all along. We are one and the same. Sure, my footwear of choice is a high-heeled boot and I prefer silence to chatter and Diet Pepsi to Virginia Slims. But we share the same heart. We have an instinct that allows us to clearly distinguish between right and wrong in the workplace. That which is right is what drives our passions and fuels our ambitions. Our biggest fear is mediocrity. And when we are forced to comply with such silliness as design by committee, we are driven to a state of craziness that cannot be avoided. We have learned that hope in the form of “CQI”, “Robust dialog” and “Entrepreneurial Leadership” is simply a facade. We know that when the boss tells you, “We care about usability and want you to be our usability product manager” it must be built on a platform of something other than straw, or it is guaranteed to dissolve into the wind.
Betty’s pursuit of quality, simplicity and common sense was beaten by corporate think. Her wins were eclipsed by her loses and she ended up with a broken heart. Betty’s defense was to complain.
So there you have it. Sure as the gravity that has taken over my aging body, there is no disputing that I have become my worst nightmare. The groundwork is laid and there’s no stopping it. My only option is to admit I have the problem and deal with it. “I am Janet and I am destined to be bitter and angry.” From here I have to choose. Do I continue to listen to my heart and let my ambitions rule? Or, do I simply check out now and force myself not to care? I choose the latter. To quote a fellow co-worker who has faced this decision previously, “I feel much better now that I have lost all hope.”
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For the last year, I have enjoyed posting to this blog. In light of my new attitude, I have opted not to continue the hosting service contract. This will be my last post. “You say you want usability? Talk to the committee!”
Thanks for listening. It was fun.